Be in My Photo, Miss!

My senses were so overwhelmed today by so much stimulation that, like a sponge that absorbed its capacity in water, they lost their ability to fully comprehend their surroundings. The sights, the smells and the sounds... Culinary aromas like cumin and curry wafted in the air, intermingling with unpleasant odors both recognized and unfamiliar to my olfactory glands. My retinas took in sights of desperation in the form of ragged people and homeless animals but also excitement and beauty represented by extravagant colors splashed on clothes and other items for sale. I saw a goat scampering on a balcony, pondered about the taste of a strange food resembling an orange rubber pretzel, almost got run over by tuk-tuks and motorcycles, wrinkled my nose at the scent of urine wafting along the air and tried to tune out the incessant honks of every tone emanating from every vehicle.

In other news, we got henna last night. Both my arms are now stained in an intricate design and will remain so for a couple of weeks.

I felt like a Hollywood celebrity hassled by paparazzi all day when being asked repeatedly to be in photos by Indians. It was fine the first few times, but eventually I just wanted to shout that there would be no more photos and to call my agent. It was sweet when it clearly made someone's day, but not so sweet when they would swarm around us snapping photos like we were some freak show act and not even ask. At one point, a couple literally handed their baby to my blonde friend and snapped her picture. Seriously?? What if they handed their child to a kidnapper? Not good parenting, people! So, I will be appearing in numerous Facebook photos of Indians, and perhaps a framed shot or two on a mantle, depending on how the pictures came out.

I don't think I will ever get used to the gawking, ogling and staring. The fascination with my skin color by the locals here is unfathomable to me. We made the mistake of wandering over to a group of kids playing some game after our curiosities were piqued only to turn and walk the other way once they saw us and came running out of sheer fascination. I am just glad I'm not blonde; they view the golden hair of my volunteer friend as an irresistible beacon. The men especially want photos with her at all times and in various poses, shaking hands a particular favorite.