I asked for a Sprite from a vendor and how much it cost. I didn't hear what he said and asked the guy next to me. He said 24 rupees. I gave the vendor a dirty look. Turns out the guy next to me misheard; it was 22. The vendor said, "22 rupees. That's Indian price. Not foreigner price. I only charge Indian price," smiling, knowingly lying (I paid less than that across the street). I responded, "What about handsome price?" showcasing my face a la the Price is Right girls. I got a laugh. I still had to pay 22 rupees.
The street I'm on is called the Main Bazaar. This place smells like urine. In fairness to Delhiites, it smells like my urine.*
I found out that yesterday was Mohandas Gandhi's birthday, which is why everything was closed. Today, I went to the place where Gandhi was murdered. It was emotional. The only problem was, I walked in the wrong way. You are supposed to follow in his footsteps (literally) to the spot where he was shot and take off your shoes at some point. Unfortunately, because I went the wrong way, I didn't realize my shoes were suppose to come off and I got in trouble.
I also visited Indira Gandhi's house, which displays the blood soaked sari that she was shot in. It also has pieces of Rajiv Gandhi's clothes that he was wearing when he was blown up. Keeping in the family line of past Prime Ministers, I next saw Jawarhalal Nehru's house. Let's just say it pays to be the Prime Minister of India.
*- In fairness to the reader, I should note that while it does smell like urine, it's not really mine.
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