Talk too much.

Jaipur is a heavily touristed town. The travel agents call it a vertex on the Golden Triangle. Golden because they charge a lot, and triangle because Delhi and Agra are situated as thus. Frankly it, nor Delhi, are comparable to Agra, but convenience has done away with that concern.

I came across a nice young man who asked me a question, 'why don't the tourists stop to speak with me?' I said, 'I don't know, ask a tourist.' I seemed friendly enough so he asked to have tea with me. I accepted on the condition that we make it a dhaba instead of a tea stall since I was on my way to eat. He didn't quite understand the tourists. So much it seems that he was trying to write a book about them. I thought that was a rather novel idea and was willing to help despite not being a standard tourist. I tried to explain a bit about time and money, but he had an excellent counter. By this time we were walking down side streets, an India I'm familiar with, although we agreed many tourists are not. He argued that the whole point of India is to see this side of it. It was a favorable exchange, tourists get to meet and see the locals, and locals get to learn about cultures they can not normally go see for themselves. Fair enough.

We babbled about other stuff, but made absolutely no progress towards finding anyhing. We passed one restaurant but the young man, Sunni, said it was too expensive for him, but seemed to be of no help finding something in his budget. After a few kilometers I finally stopped talking and did nothing but look for a place. This iritated my companion quite a bit. Eventually I found a place. Sunni complained about the earlier price yet didn't get anything at the place we ended up at. I tried to help him out. I knew his problems with the tourists and explained that he should be patient. If he asks someone to tea and they say no, don't go on pestering them as to why. This was difficult to be understood. He felt that if they can't answer why, then they are not doing anything and therefore have nothing to lose by having tea with him. He also didn't understand that doing nothing is often something. Eventually I argued him until he changed his defense, saying that in his culture you can't refuse tea. I responded that in other cultures you have every right to, and when cultures clash, someone must bend or both sides are to blame.

After a while I noticed we were nearly shouting and had become quite the focus of the restaurant. It was clear that Sunni had become quite irritated since the hypothetical tourist conversation was actually about whether I would go with him for tea. I really didn't mean to refuse, but by argueing so agressively I sent such a signal. He asked me straight forward if I would go with him to have tea and talk. I said no and inside I smiled. He approached me desiring to have conversation. We may not have had tea, but we did speak for over an hour. Not all was about local-tourist rights and grievances. We spoke of who I was and who he was. I really had to know, and it was clear he really wasn't after conversation, and tea really cannot be that important. Sunni wasn't the first to offer. I'd already accepted three others and refused a few dozen and it was barely 2 o'clock. It took me all day to figure out exactly what was going on. I knew there was a scam somewhere down the road but it was the young men pulling people in that fascinated me. They all spoke the same. Not only was the approach the same, but they had cute catch phrases like 'Sunday-Funday' and 'Junky-Funky,' that seemed exclusive to these shockingly similar young men. I knew from the get go, early this morning that it was a scam, but the honesty just didn't fit the picture. The only thing I can think of is that these kids are picked because they really want to meet tourists and I really believe he does want to write a book. But they are aware of the scam, and unfortunately too preoccupied with the immediate future to get any benefit from the present.

After Sunni I'd learned what I needed and just had to get rude. 'Excuse me, can I ask you a question?' 'No!' I did smile though. Some folks just smiled back. Others started accusing me of being racist. They'd all been taught the buttons to push on foreigners, except I can't imagine that it helps gain confidence. I was heading home when I saw someone cut my way. Had he been a young man I'd probably have negotiated the traffic to put a few people in the way, but he wasn't. An older Indian man, rather drunk, walked up in the park and shouted, 'I AM JOSEPH DAVID AND I AM A GOOD CHRISTIAN!' Mind you he shouted; he always shouted. As if this wasn't strange enough, his accent was a rolled R away from Scottish. After 5 hours of arguing with clones I needed a break, but this was more like a rupture. I stood there with no idea what to make of anything. At first I didn't believe him. I couldn't believe him, but when he remarked that I was from the new testament and he from the old, I had to. After a moment I realized that had I been coming from the South, rather than the North, I would be much more acquainted with the presence of Christianity in India, although I didn't expect the names to change as well.

Although his name is rather rememberable, he continued to reinforce it by starting most phrases with 'I am Joseph David.' There was 'I am Joseph David and I am from Goa,' as well as from Kerala. He had a lot of contradictions, but 'I am Joseph David and I am a bad man,' was never placed near the repetition of his opening line. We were speaking in the park, and although I was accustomed to drawing crowds of several dozen whenever I spoke in public, Joseph David was not. He was very suspicious and began shouting at everyone. As I would soon learn, again and again, Jaipur was filled with nothing but 'bastards.' In fact bastard was far too kind a word for Joseph David and he often included some colorful adjectives.

As soon as he learned I was headed to the train station it became Joseph David's mission to get me on a bus and protect me from the vicious onslaught of bastards. Along the way to the bus stop was a sub mission. It was imperative that I weigh myself. In fact I already had, and in fact at the scale we were standing near. Joseph David did not believe me, but the scale man verified that I had indeed weighed myself just a few minutes before. He said, 'ahh, very good,' and we continued. He then asked me for tea. Given my day I was not at all amused, and had it been any other day I would've understood the secret code of a too-proud beggar. After some dodging on my part, Joseph David stopped and looked down at me, if that were a choice, and sad, 'Matthew, I have been drinking all day and now I would like some tea. It's only 2 Rupees, and for it I will help you get on the right bus.' Honesty, even from a drunk, is always welcome. I gave a vendor the equivalent of a nickel and waited while Joseph David enjoyed his cup. He later confided in me that the tea vendor was in fact a bastard but he refrained from expressing that opinion because he needed tea. Soon the bus came. Joseph David asked if he wanted me to accompany him on the perilous voyage but I refused the offer. In his own special way he helped by informing everyone on the bus that they were bastards. He smiled and waved and the bus sped away. I'm sure I would've been much more embarassed but in the midst of the shock I had forgotten that most of the bastards understood English - oh well.

I was glad to have met him in Jaipur because had it been anywhere else I would not have enjoyed him at all. After 5 hours of dealing with hustlers in the old city, I couldn't even find piece of mind in my hotel. Two more experienced con-men were waiting in the lobby when I returned from my bus trip with the bastards of Jaipur. Hotel management, which always turns a blind eye to anything outside their doors, usually never lets a hustler even accompany a guest to the front desk, but I guess that only works when the hustler is not the cab driver that recommended the place - oh well.