So I would be walking down the street and stop at a shop to ask the shopkeeper if he has something I need. "Yes, please", he would say (I don't know why this english error bothers me so much in particular, but I really hate it) and he would say his friend is bringing it and it will only be a minute. It would take 20 minutes and he would use the time with me as a hostage to ask me which country I am from, how Canada is, how I like India, whether I am married, and why I am travelling alone. When my responses are inevitably less than enthusiastic at the two-hundredth time I have had to respond to these exact questions, he would ask me if I hate all Indians.
Despite this rough start, he would begin hitting on me like my opinion doesn't matter, smiling no matter how bitchy and rude I get, and saying with an opportunistic grin that he isn't married either. He would then proceed to tell me what to do, with comments that aren't explicitly offensive but have serious undertones of severe sexism.
Next he would proceed to start preaching about his religion, saying it was the only valid option and trying to convert me. When his friend finally arrives with the item, it would not be what I asked for.
When I storm out in anger and start walking down the street, there would be packs of men staring and smiling like I am into it and taking pictures of me. "What country...", they would begin in the usual manner. This would be broken up only by the chorus of shopkeepers, each beginning their verse as I pass their entrance: "yes...hello...madam...hello...welcome...please come...hello...", and the cars pushing through the crowds and blasting their horns as soon as they are next to me.
It is funny how much you learn about what pushes your buttons when you are travelling. I have been spit on, peed on, shit on; stepped in shit and had my bed shit on; been pushed, punched, slapped on the ass, smacked on the boob, head butted by cows, attacked my monkeys, snarled at by dogs; had my tooth chipped; experienced the coldest weather of my life and the hottest; been scammed; lost my camera, my phone, and my computer charger; been ambushed by cockroaches; and seen two dead and bloated bodies and innumerable burning ones...
But if this scenario ever happened all at one time, you would be hearing about it on the news. There would be few survivors.
Despite this rough start, he would begin hitting on me like my opinion doesn't matter, smiling no matter how bitchy and rude I get, and saying with an opportunistic grin that he isn't married either. He would then proceed to tell me what to do, with comments that aren't explicitly offensive but have serious undertones of severe sexism.
Next he would proceed to start preaching about his religion, saying it was the only valid option and trying to convert me. When his friend finally arrives with the item, it would not be what I asked for.
When I storm out in anger and start walking down the street, there would be packs of men staring and smiling like I am into it and taking pictures of me. "What country...", they would begin in the usual manner. This would be broken up only by the chorus of shopkeepers, each beginning their verse as I pass their entrance: "yes...hello...madam...hello...welcome...please come...hello...", and the cars pushing through the crowds and blasting their horns as soon as they are next to me.
It is funny how much you learn about what pushes your buttons when you are travelling. I have been spit on, peed on, shit on; stepped in shit and had my bed shit on; been pushed, punched, slapped on the ass, smacked on the boob, head butted by cows, attacked my monkeys, snarled at by dogs; had my tooth chipped; experienced the coldest weather of my life and the hottest; been scammed; lost my camera, my phone, and my computer charger; been ambushed by cockroaches; and seen two dead and bloated bodies and innumerable burning ones...
But if this scenario ever happened all at one time, you would be hearing about it on the news. There would be few survivors.
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