Reverse Tourism

I don't have a photo to prove what I'm about to say, so you're just gonna have to take my word for it.

During our stay in Chandigarh, Greg and I had a few encounters with reverse tourism -- where we became the attraction, at least for a brief moment, shaking hands with small children or posing for photos.

At the Rose Garden, the guardians -- I assume family -- of the poor little guy above brought him over to shake our hands while we sat, enjoying -- what else? -- the smell of the roses.

When the little guy was unphased by the handshake, the folks I can only assume were his parents went in for another step: They picked up him, sat him between us on our bench, put one hand on Greg's lap, one on mine, and took his photo. His photo, with the Americans. The poor guy smiled not once during the entire event. I couldn't tell if he was frightened of just annoyed.

Incidentally, I'm reading 'Eat, Pray, Love,' Elizabeth Gilbert's book about traveling through Italy, India and Indonesia. In a chapter about how she makes for a not-so-great traveler, Gilbert mentions that she dealt with this same phenomenon -- being pointed out by parents to young children -- in China. There, she said, the

"... children -- who had never seen anything quite like this pink-faced yellow-headed phantom person -- would often burst into tears at the sight of me. I really hated that about China." (Penguin Books, 2006)

I don't think my experience makes me hate India. In fact, it was sort of interesting to be, for a moment, on the other side of the lens.

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