Dharamsala 2: I am a tourist!!!

Weekend travelling brings a feeling of an absolute liberation. Liberation in many senses. From work responsibilities and daily routines, from sticking to people and places you know… But even more importantly for the case of living in a foreign country, weekend travelling liberates you from the necessity to strive for the identity of the local, the necessity that your whole expatriate life is revolving around otherwise. There is a indescribable pleasure in associating with the crowd of tourists besieging a hottest destination. This simple act becomes a denial or a rebellion for you: “That’s what I am – A FOREIGNER in this country, a foreigner like many who come for some time and do not bother to comply with the rules defining social dynamics here”… However illusive the thought is, let me indulge it in the few coming days.

I carry my camera and do not hesitate to take pictures of the strangers sitting right next to me. I wear a carefree top on the thin shoulder-straps and walk by the countryside road without much concern for the stares and comments. Without thinking twice I am asking for the directions to a tourist sight: I do not know where it is – I have just arrived. I am discussing the peculiarities of Indian culture in a bus full of (Indian) people. I go easy on two rupees that I am getting ripped off for anytime I am getting some chai from a dhaba. I am shopping for beautiful presents at a government shop and take the word of the shopkeeper that he cannot give me any discount. I am spending half of my monthly food expenditures on the crafts made by mentally handicapped children and I do not regret a single peso.

Please, please, please, let me feel rich, clueless, and strange in this country.
Please, please, please, let me feel like a tourist.
Please, please, please…
…this is so rare I get a chance to.