Goa, India: March
“Sister, I make good price for you, very cheap. Please buy one piece. No business today.”
I am on the beach in Goa slowly baking under the blazing sun. Next to me is a nice young lady with a bundle of sarongs and bags of jewellery. Parker comes out of the sea and laughs when he sees me. Deepa has arranged at least ten pieces of jewellery all the way down my leg: anklets, bracelets, necklaces. I never let it go this far but the heat has paralyzed me. We are always very polite but firm. Someone comes by every five minutes and if you show any interest you are instantly surrounded. We just really don’t want any sarongs, dress, jewellery, fruit, peanuts, pirated cds, pirated movies, drums, ice cream, flowers, stickers or henna tattoos.
Deepa was nice. It was hot and I felt bad for her. But I wanted absolutely nothing. Parker felt bad for her too and told me to buy something small. I found a pair of earrings that I could wear for a few days. She tried to charge me 150 ($3) rupees which was ridiculous. I told her not only were they not worth 150 rupees but I was only buying them because I liked her. She agreed to 50 rupees. So I ended up with a pair of earrings worth 5 rupees (less than a penny) that I didn’t even want in the first place.
This is the craziest beach we’ve visited when it comes to people trying to sell us crap all day. Not only can you shop all day without moving from your lounge chair and you can get your leg shaved (via string method), your ears cleaned, a manicure, a pedicure, a foot massage or full body massage, all while you are sun bathing and drinking your cocktail.
After six weeks we didn’t get bothered as much but they still tried. We grew fond of the beautiful Indian ladies in their colourful saris. Sometimes we pretended to be asleep but the kids would wake you up and the ice cream guy kept ringing his bell until you looked at him. It was a small price to pay to be in Goa.
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