Target vs. Privilege

In India in general, foreigners are both targets yet enjoy privilege. No matter how shabby my clothes, I can walk into any store because of the color of my skin. Last night, I ate at Pizza Hut. I've eaten there, at Subway, and at McDonald's; that's only three non-Indian meals in a week, give me a break. The drinks were really expensive, so I didn't order one. The waiter gave me filtered water, but I didn't touch it. Then he kept giving me Pepsis for free. I'm still not sure why, but it was very nice. The guy at the internet place, when filling out the form, asked if I was male. "Good guess." He laughed. Then he guessed I was 23 years old. I thanked him.

Foreigners are also targets. As you know, targets of scams. Targets of shocked stares. Jaipur is the capital of Rajasthan, supposedly a heavily traveled area. It sits on the Delhi-Jaipur-Agra triangle. Yet, whenever I walk by, I'm gawked at as if this was a remote part of India. Maybe it's just me. Targets of beggars. Targets of overzealous rickshaw drivers. After I told one I was from America, he said he had three friends from America and named a few cities in a bid to get me to go with him. I said, "Tell them to come here!" He said, "They are coming. They are coming in summer." I said, "That doesn't help me now," and walked away.

Jaipur is decorated with garbage. There are hoards of animals wondering about. Camels, pigs, goats, cows, hump-backed oxen, and dogs. They feast on the garbage. They seldom go hungry here. There is supposed to be a beautiful palace. I still haven't found it. Jaipur is called the Pink City. I was anticipating everything painted pink. Not quite. Maybe they should call it the Garbage City instead (no disrespect intended). Or the Stare at me like I'm a clothed monkey City (a little disrespect intended).