This street sold both saris and wedding papers. Set up among the rainbow bolts of fabric and used textbooks spilling into the "sidewalk" were food vendors cooking savory snacks in metal urns of boiling oil. I glanced up and saw my first dangerous looking monkey sitting on the balcony of a decrepit haveli.
It's a pity that the touts don't understand western women. The last person I'll buy anything from is a pushy in-your-face type who announces that he loves me. The range of gaudy wedding bling is beyond overwhelming. I might buy something if the approach is acceptable, but I really don't give a damn about haggling and I find this type of shopping totally exhausting. However, I've surprised myself with just how good I am about not making eye contact and treating the sleeve pulling like some sort of lightly irritating insect. The hard sell freaked me out in 2011, when I stayed in Kathmandu for several days. Not anymore. I guess I've toughened up considerably.
No comments:
Post a Comment