Conversation at Charminar

We’ve been to the Charminar several times now (video postings to come), and every time people ask if they can take pictures with us, or we see them sneaking pictures.  I’ve gotten used to it, but I still get a bit nervous every time we go.  I’m mostly just uncomfortable with the constant begging (they will put their hands on you and tug on your clothes) and people following us around trying to sell their wares.  One visit, however, while we were waiting for our car, I had a little chat with a couple of boys trying to sell sunglasses.  Their English was amazingly good, especially for that part of the city, and they were very curious about my face.

Boys: Are you from America?
Me: yes. [still trying to ignore them]
Boys: Do you speak English?
Me: yes. [finally stopped to wait for our car; there was no where for me to go]
Boys: Do you speak French?
Me: no.
Boys: Italian?
Me: no.
Boys: German?
Me: no, only English [by this time, I’m laughing]
Boys: Why is your face red?
Me [pointing to the sun]: It’s very hot here for me!
Boys: But your face is so red!
Me: I’m just very hot!
Woman passing on street looks at me curiously.  I see the boys pointing to the sun and at my face, apparently explaining to her why I’m so red.  This of course, makes me blush, and subsequently, I get redder.
Our car arrives, so we begin climbing in.

Boys: You are very pretty.
Me: Thank you.
We wave goodbye to them from the car.

On our next trip to the Charminar, I met up with one of the same boys again, and he remembered me!  This was quite amazing to me, because there are thousands upon thousands of people at this little junction in the city.  It just goes to show how few Americans they see there.  He offered to sell me sunglasses again, but seeing I was already wearing them, tried to sell them to Ryan instead.  We should have just bought a pair from him.  After all, he did say I was pretty.

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~ by Amy on April 5, 2009.

One Response to “Conversation at Charminar”

  1. […] Conversation at Charminar – This just strokes my ego. […]

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