It’s Monday morning and I have decided to walk down the street for some picture taking. I bring my big lens so I can really get up close and personal with my photos without having anyone know I am taking their picture. Now keep in mind that most people actually like having their picture taken, especially by a foreigner, but it alters their behavior and they start posing for the pictures. By staying far away, I am able to get more authentic street scenes, so I just pick a busy street corner and stand there taking pictures for close to half an hour. As I suspected, no one seems to care… that is until a police officer taps me on the shoulder. He asks me if I am a press reporter and I tell him that I am not. Seeming satisfied he walks away. At this point I am fairly well acclimated to Indian culture and nothing about this seems more strange than anything else that happens here, so I continue clicking my shutter in peace. A few minutes later and I hear someone yelling from a rickshaw, and who should it be but Kumar, the guy I met the other day. He asks if I need to go somewhere and I tell him that I need to find a place with internet, to which he says that he will take me there. Great.
I head back to the hotel, get Grace, and then we head for the internet. We get to an internet café and find that they are in the middle of a rolling blackout, and that they will not have power for the next two hours. Super. I ask the driver if he knows of another place with internet, and says that he does. We start driving and he says he can take us to some very good stores. This of course means that they get gas coupons for taking foreigners to these recently opened stores to look around, regardless of whether we buy anything. We say that we are not interested in going to stores to look around, and that we just want to find the internet. He replies that he knows a place and off we go. A few minutes later and we are back at the same place we started. Clearly there is some sort of communication breakdown here. They offer to take us all over town to the tourist destinations. I am not particularly thrilled about tourist destinations, but Grace had wanted to see one of the Hindu temples, so we agree to go to the temple.
We get to the temple a few minutes later and we are instructed to leave our shoes outside. We walk into the temple and are approached by a guide. I tell him that we don’t need a guide, to which he replies that our driver arranged for a guide. Grace tells me to go along with it, so I do. He then proceeds to order us around, tells us where to stand, and even tells me what to take pictures of. This guy is really starting to get on my nerves. If it were not for Grace I would have long since ditched this guy. He then orders us to donate 500 rupees for the poor. Now I am all for helping the poor, but this guy is an asshole. Screw it. I give the guy 500 rupees, which he takes inside the temple and supposedly places at the base of the alter (there is a big sign that says “Non-Hindu not allowed inside”). We try to ditch the guy, but nine days after hip surgery and Grace is not moving too quickly. He quickly catches up and continues trying to give us a “tour.” At this point I am pretty much just ignoring the guy and trying to get out of this tourist hell. After what seems like an eternity, we finally make it back to the rickshaw. I start walking over to get our shoes and am quickly diverted back to the rickshaw and told that our shoes will be brought to us. The “tour guide” then asks us for 500 rupees each. Is this guy for real? I flatly refuse and tell him that I did not like the tour. He continues to demand money for his “valuable service,” so I eventually give him 200 rupees just to go away… money well spent.
At this point Grace is more than worn out and just wants to go back to the hotel. The driver keeps insisting that he can take me to “very nice shop” to which we have to keep reminding him that we want to go back to the hotel. Eventually we get back to the hotel, which never seemed quite so nice. Grace is about to pass out or puke, and I am exhausted from trying to take care of Grace. I get Grace back up to the room, where she pretty much collapses on the bed. I need to have a drink and get some more pictures, so I go back downstairs and ask the driver if he knows where a “wineshop” is. He says that he does and that he would be happy to take me there. I agree and hop in. We get to this place, and go to the window to order a beer. The driver asks if I will buy him some brandy, to which I foolishly agree. He then leads me down into an air-conditioned room with really poor lighting. A few minutes later and his brother shows up. A few minutes after that and his brother’s best friend shows up. I foolishly agree to buy them drinks as well. Soon they start ordering food and more drinks, and I am expected to pay. I tell them that I am not paying for any more drinks, and if they want more drinks they can pay for them, to which they quickly stop ordering. I cut my losses, finish my drink, and get out.
Once outside they ask me where I want to go next. I think for a minute then tell them that I want to go to a fishing village. They drive me to a nearby village and I start taking pictures. I ask some people in the village if I can take their pictures, which they actually seem quite happy about. I click some shots and give them each a couple rupees for their trouble. All of a sudden, several people start asking to have their picture taken again. It equates to nothing but shutter clicks for me, so I oblige them. They then ask for more money. Although I feel like a complete asshole, I tell them that I will not give them more money, and continue walking. At this point it is becoming clear that being a foreigner is equivalent to having “sucker” written across my forehead, and that giving anyone money is like verifying the fact. I decide that tipping people for taking their picture it is just going to cause problems, so I start saying “no money” while I ask to take their picture. This apparently has no effect on their desire to have their picture taken and I proceed down the beach clicking my shutter freely.
About a kilometer down the beach and I meet up with the rickshaw driver who is waiting for me with another beer and some food. I join him for some refreshments and then get up to continue my walk down the beach. He tells me that he knows a really nice place further down the beach and that he will drive me there. I jump in the rickshaw and we head further down the coast. I get out, walk down to the water, and after counting my money and making a mental inventory of all the items in my bag, ask the driver to hold my stuff while I go for a swim. I keep an eye on him, but the water feels fantastic and the sun is beginning to set. Over all, a fantastic end to a more than bizarre day.
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