Most embarrassing moment in India?

ChrisJ

Hello all,

Well, I seem to make a regular habit of making a fool of myself - no exception if I happen to be in India.

So come on then - I'm sure some of you have all been there too!

Here is one of mine. (There are several!)

Taj Korean coach party:

I roll up to the taj with one of my mates and we start strolling around. Cue coachparty of Koreans - they arrive at the main entrance where we are sitting. Some members of the party enthusiatically ask me for a group photo.

No problemo! I am more than happy to oblige! "Just assemble in front! OK - now move in a bit - I need to get you all in"

"No no! - You join us in photo please"

I soon realise that they are as interested in me as they are the Taj...

After posing for photos and lots of smiles and handshakes with them they move on.

(I ought to point out at this point that I am 6' 4" and very well built)

I can only imagine the discussion when some of them got home: "Yeah - this is the Famous Taj Mahal. But hey - check out the size of this English guy we saw!!"

I have had various times when other people have asked for photos - but never like this! (My mate still likes to make fun of me about it to this day )



Chris.

camelgirl

On a long public bus trip, when it stopped for a loo break I followed the ladies to......a low wall at the side of the road. They squatted behind it and when I did, EVERYONE stopped and stared at me. Hmmm, her butt is white too? I instantly got "bashful bladder syndrome" Yeow

snowcrab

Didn't know a dupetta is an integral part of a salwar kameeze. Walked around without one for nearly a week until a nice english lady pointed out that it was the eqivalent of walking down High Street in a bra. Ouch!

camelgirl

Uh Oh....I never knew that! I never wear a dupatta, they get in my way. Oh well, knowadays women seem to be walking around in their underwear anyway (though not in India).

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dupatta

steven_ber

OK, here we go, long story time, (and if it sounds like I'm making excuses for my embarrassing moment, I'm not, I was just a typical spoilt western tourist who couldn’t see the forest for the trees.)

I had gone to my friend’s village in Gujarat and found his family (he was in London), they were so friendly and welcoming and kept asking me to stay longer (I eventually stayed for 7 days).

It was an absolutely amazing experience in far more ways than I could ever explain, so I will only mention the things that are relevant to this post.

I was taken around the village about 4 times a day by the father, each time I would be introduced to one of my friends 'best friends', I would be sat down, given water, then given loads of delicious food, I was always told by the father that it was impolite to refuse the food, as soon as I accepted the food he would usually refuse the same.

Now I'm a very big eater, and this was the best food I'd ever had, but I was also being given 3 big meals (including desserts) a day by my friends mother, and needles to say, I was beginning to struggle.

When the father had to work I was invited to go everywhere with one or both of his daughters (one was 26, the other about 15), this was always good fun, normally starting with a visit to the temple before 6 in the morning.

I had tried to go for a walk on my own on many occasions and was (politely) not allowed, after about 5 days I managed to get away for a while, I went for a shave and sat in the chair and closed my eyes (as I always do when I have a shave), as I opened my eyes, the father was smiling (and had paid for the shave).

I was beginning to feel trapped, I couldn’t go anywhere alone.

Later in the day I managed to persuade the father to let me go for a walk on my own, I walked to the temple to relax for a bit, as I got to the temple I heard a motorbike, as the motorbike approached I realised it was a friend of the family, he said "telephone, daughter", I asked him to say again (he spoke virtually no English, so I was shocked at these words), he repeated the same words, so I got on the bike and we headed back to the house.

It was only a 2 or 3-minute ride, but you could never imagine the things that went through my mind, (my wife must have contacted my friend and he's calling to tell me something’s happened to my daughter, how am I gonna get home from here).

We got to the house to find that the father wanted me to telephone my daughter so that his daughter could talk to her, I smiled at first, relieved there wasn't a problem in England, but then had to sit down for yet another meal, I felt myself getting really angry inside and knew that I had to get away for a few hours.

Not being allowed out alone, and the (by now) serious food problems were really beginning to get me angry.

I persuaded the father to let me go for a walk again, this time I got a rickshaw to the nearest big town (9 Kms away), I knew that the family would know the rickshaw driver, so I got out at the railway station and walked through part of the town before catching another rickshaw and getting him to take me to a place with a pool table, I knew that I could calm down and see things from the families point of view if I could just play pool for an hour or so.

Not 10 minutes had passes and the older daughter and a friend walked into the pool hall looking for me, I snapped, I threw the pool cue on to the table (it bounced off the other end, so it must have looked like I'd thrown it across the room) and started shouting at this poor girl, she couldn't understand me and started crying.

I felt like such a spoilt, nasty brat, the whole family were just trying to make me feel welcome and look after me, and I'd reacted in such a nasty way.

There was no way of apologising, each time I tried the daughter just insisted it was her fault.

I talked to the father about it, and the rest of the stay was great, but I never forgot that outburst.

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machadinha

Hmmm OK here goes, I'd thought of bringing this up on previous threads regarding touts & general money hassles but was frankly too embarassed:

Having traveled around India for quite a bit me and some people I had hooked up with along the way stayed in Madras for a while. We were headed to the Poste Restante one day when without consulting the map we got into a rickshaw and I asked the driver to take us to the post office at Street X where I positively knew it was located, in that "hey I know how to get around and what a street is called so don't tell me anything new" kind of fashion that you may develop after a while. To my meek and slight defense let me add that it's an attitude you develop because the slightest doubt as to where you want to go will often work as a tout magnet & heavily inflated prices and so.

Now I don't remember the exact names but let's say in the local language a street could be called X or Z, like our road and lane for instance. It so happened there were two streets of the same name, only with different extensions -- as in Town Road and Town Lane -- both of which happened to feature a major post office moreover, only one of which was our poste restante of course. (Ah look I've looked it up and let's lay part of the blame with ol' Lonely Toney, it's called Anna Road in the LP but the real name is Anna Salai, I must have asked for Anna Marg or something.)

Well you guessed it, unflinchingly the driver sped off onto this lengthy ride in the wrong direction, with us starting to get more and more upset with him that he was leading us in circles and this was not right etc. You get so used to having to argue endlessly about "No sir, the hotel has burned down, yes sir this a shortcut, I give you good price sir" and whatnot that it becomes second nature. Sure enough he brought us to the other post office at the wrong end of town and a real argument broke out over his having brought us to the wrong place. Halfway through the argument and him being convinced as he was it started to dawn on me what might have happened, but at this point it had developed to a point where there was no way we could have backed off and admit our defeat. Moreover my friends didn't realize that it had been my mistake to ask for the wrong street in the first place and they were so involved in the argument that it hardly seemed like the right time to inform them. The guy even called on some fellow rickshaw drivers to convince us he was right -- a situation that can easily be a prelude for more nasty developments, only as it was he must have been perfectly sincere about it. In the end of it and after much exhaustive haggling for both parties we got him to bring us to the other place for the price we had agreed upon from the start and I made sure to leave him with a tip to the effect of the price he had wanted for the ride he actually gave us, so it was sort of settled, but I've never felt so bad in my life, I think we actually convinced the poor guy that he had been wrong. I'm not even sure if I ever told my friends what had really just happened.

The morale of it all: before getting upset about exorbitant money demands, do not rule out your own stupidity for embarking on the wrong deal to begin with.

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ChrisJ

I have had similar experiences with food when staying with friends. I always used to accept anything for fear of offending - but after a while I just had to explain and say "Thank you - but I am not hungry" or "sorry - I really don't like okra" Even after knowing the family for many years and them understanding my eating haits "Mum" would still moan at me that I didnt eat enough!

Mind you - I made up for it when the old man got the whiskey out!

Rob_The_Pom

Don't worry Steve, it's called being human.

Mine was basically breaking down in the middle of Hyderabad. I couldn't handle the heat, the hassle, the dead bloke (or maybe just dead drunk, but looking dead) in the middle of the path, the amount of people, the culture shock.
I went to a international phone call shop, phoned home, and bawled down the phone to my parents. I don't know what they must have thought, or the blokes working in the shop. Well, I know what they thought, they took the opportunity to palm off the worst 50rps note you've ever seen on me, which I couldn't get rid of (until I gave it to a rickshaw as a tip - and he still didn't want it!).
I did the decent thing after that and went to the pub - at Hotel Residency I believe.
And there, my trip was saved by a Sikh gentleman, who bought me several beers because he saw I was looking depressed, told me all about his family, life, Sikhism, and why India was a great place.
So, the worst and most embarrassing day of all the travelling I've ever done was turned into a great day.
So, Mr S***** Y***** Singh of CLB Colony, I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

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camelgirl

Now Macha has reminded me of another:

Arrive in Bhopal, guidebook in hand, directions to hotel. Rickshaw driver keeps saying, no hotel, no hotel. Well, we've heard & fallen for this before (they all seem to have a "relative" with a better/cheaper, etc. one) and we are VERY insistant. Arrive at address: hotel has been turned into a hospital, he was right .

tikrit

This is a fun thread.
I have found that being embarrassed in India was almost a daily thing for me. I was constantly doing things wrong.

Learning to barter in a Calcutta market place:
I was looking at a dress. I didn't want the dress. When asked how much I want to pay for the dress, I replied "oh, no thank you, I'm just looking". And I was. The dress seller kept on me "madam, how much will you pay..." and I'm sure you know how that goes. Well, I kept replying "no thanks, I do not want this dress". This went on for a bit. Finally I said "well, if I did want this dress I would only pay you 50rp" (thinking: low-ball so I would be left alone). I was just making the seller angrier and angrier, his price finally dropped to my 50rp. And, I said "no, I was being hypothetical with you, I do not want the dress". When I went to turn around there was a HUGE crowd of people watching me and I paused because I could not get out of the seller's stall. Anyhow, the angry seller started to yell for me to "get out now" and came out grabbed me by the arm and I was escorted out of the market place. The crowd of on-lookers followed the scene. Once around the corner I cried and never entered that market until the next time I was in India.

I don't hypothetically barter anymore either.

Tik

SitaParityaga

pull off wearing a sari like the locals.

After being taught how to wrap myself, my Indian lady friends got out some safety pins to keep it all together.

I asked them if THEY wore safety pins: "Of course not!"

Well, no one is going to out do me at wearing a sari. (hey, I was really young and full of it)

Did fine for about ten minutes, just long enough to immerse myself in a big crowd.

It didn't just fall off. It virtually sprung off me. (all those folds acted like some kind of coiled spring)

The ladies just made a big circle around me to shield me from the crowd, re-wrapped AND pinned me up in seconds flat.

bijapuri

really stoned, caught by granny doing number 2 out of the loft window of the farm I was staying at in Manali in 1972. What an eaerful she had for me!
. . . or was it Swayambu . . . Kitne achchi charas!

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Focusing your life solely on making a buck shows a certain poverty of ambition. It asks too little of yourself. Because it's only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you realize your true potential.
Barack Obama

lookit me!!!: http://www.flickr.com/photos/bijapuri/

Utube fuzzy logic:
http://youtube.com/profile_videos?user=bijapuri&p =r

darthmilmo

LOL! Excellent thread.... my biggest blooper happend at a train station in Mathura. I had stopped for the day and so left my luggage at the station storage room. I went on my business having a wonderful day touring the temples in town. When I returned that afternoon I submited my receipt and grabbed my bag. The attendant came running asking for the 10 IRps (day fee). I was like, huh? I had already paid. After all I did show my receipt when I picked up my bag. He insisted until I lost my cool and yelled at the poor man. About an hour later on the train I recalled that I never paid for the storage fee. Apparently, the receipt was just to prove it was my bag, not that I had paid... Oops! I'm glad I never went back there, cause I felt like shit!

In regard to bartering down at the market. I lost count on how many trinkets I ended up buying cause I was doing a playful hypothetical barter. A seller will offer a trinket for say 100 IRps and I will joke saying i'd give 5 IRps.... lo and behold, he came down and said ok right away. Argh! Thus, I ended with tons of trinkets. They do look great on my room though .

skell

If anyone is keeping score, I'd say that you were in first place so far!

Rob_The_Pom

I think Bijapuri is not just in first place, but simply miles ahead!
A fantastic ancedote!