Shopping in India: the Madness

LOCATION: JAIPUR
TIME: 7:50 p.m., Sept. 4

Before I begin tonight's update, I'd like to take just a moment to talk about shopping in India.

As I dreamed about this trip over the past several months, I practically drooled over photographs of Jaipur's markets. I imagined myself strolling past mounds of fruits and vegetables, sipping a cup of chai, slowly browsing through the goods: beautifully beaded and ornamented skirts, hand-dyed kurtas and wooden, sculpted elephants.

Not a chance that ever actually happens here. As soon as I step anywhere near a street vendor, he or she starts calling, “Madam! Madam! Just 500 rupees!” Today, one vendor even yelled at us through the gate at Jantar Mantar, the garden full of astrological instruments in old Jaipur. "Hats, madam!"

Really, though, the vendors that yell from a distance are becoming my favorites. I don't even have to look up or answer them. The worst ones are the ones who shamelessly get in my face and walk along with me as I try to get down the street. The farther we walk, the better the deal gets – and no matter how uninterested I am, no matter how many times I say, “No,” they stay with me.

Stores, too, are generally not enjoyable here. I'm a browser. I like to see what's available and make an informed decision, carefully balancing price against value. Never did I realize I did these things, however, until I found a salesman or saleswoman standing between me and the goods, steering me toward this pair of pants or that set of frames for my lenses. I went shopping today for a camera (after my much prized digicam fell victim to the heat and sunlight), and I literally had to ask the price of every Canon camera in the shop to figure out which one I wanted, since they were all behind the counter. As I would inquire, the salesman would pull each one down from the shelf and put it on a velvet mat on the counter – a highly unnecessary move.

At the same complex, I made the mistake of attempting to take a look around a textiles shop. As soon as I entered the clerk when into another room to retrieve someone I can only guess was the owner, who then stood watch, asking Vivek if I was “looking for anything in particular.”

To add icing to this bitter cake, nearly everyone here works on commission. So even the tourguides we've hired at spots like Amber Fort add a “Part Two” to whatever tour they're giving, during which they take us to a shop or shops where everything will be not only authentic but also half the price of anywhere else. It's all nonsense.

I just want to shop! Can't they just let me be? It's especially frustrating in places like Jaipur, one of the country's textiles capitals, where I would have loved just to walk through the market and admire the goods, ask about how they are made and, yes, make a few purchases. After a long day of sightseeing and camera trouble, however, I just didn't have the energy to do battle. I'll visit a select handful of shops in Bombay when we return there, or bargain my way down Colaba Causeway with a native Mumbai-ite who can make sure I'm not getting ripped off.

That small rant, I do believe, has become this evening's dispatch. We'll be off soon to find dinner and then catch our 11:10 p.m. train for Delhi, where we'll fly out in the morning for Goa.