When I first arrived I thought it was so wonderful that every single shopkeeper said hello to me.

I loved that they asked me my name. It was so sweet to be asked how I was doing today. It felt good to be acknowledged. As a single traveler it helped me feel connected and not lonely.

BUT after fourteen days of “Hello Kristin! How you doing today? You come look in my shop?” I began to grow weary.

Because it wasn’t just one shopkeeper.
Here’s what happens so you can get an accurate picture:

Each time I do the 15-minute walk to my Ayurvedic treatment I have to pass as least a hundred shopkeepers who call out to me. Then on the way back to my room the same hundred shopkeepers will call out to me:

“You got the Ayurveda today, Kristin? You not talking today, Kristin? Why not? You not happy today Kristin? You not feeling well, Kristin? You come look in my shop, that make you very happy Kristin!”

(I am happy, I am feeling well, I’m just too relaxed to chat with hundreds of you shopkeepers after getting my oil massage and I will not be looking in your shop, thank you very much.)

AGGHHHHHHH.

And then there is Bitty, the eleven-fingered fruit woman –she’s got two thumbs on one hand- who I bought fruit from the first few days I arrived and now she acts like she owns me.

I think she’s part of the Indian mafia.

“You buy fruit from someone else yesterday?” She scowls at me as I walk by her fruit stand.

“No Biddy, I needed a break from fruit yesterday.”

Fruit interrogation. Lovely.

This is a new experience. Lucky me.

“You no buy fruit from other fruit lady. Only from me. You understand?” She smiles but her eyes are cold and piercing.

If she had a pistol in her sari I think she would have pulled it out to prove her point.

So a couple of days ago I began wearing a big hat and sunglasses, trying to be incognito but damn if the shopkeepers and (Old) Biddy didn’t recognized me in my disguise.

Shopkeepers:

“You so white you need the big hat, Kristin? You feeling okay today, Kristin? You very quiet today. You okay? You come look in my shop. You buy my hat. Better than your hat. Your hat too big. You little. You need the little hat. I have little hat. Come on. Just look. Looking is free, Kristin. Come on!”

And Biddy:

“You buy fruit from other fruit lady today? You no buy from the other fruit ladies. You buy from me. Okay? Only Biddy. You buy! No buying from the other fruit ladies. Biddy has the best fruit. Why you not buying today? You looking tired. Fruit help you be strong. You don’t buy from other fruit lady (or I kill you).” <– I added that last part.

Angry piercing look from Biddy and I wither and buy a banana from her just to get her off my back.

Holy crap.

Next time I’ll bring a strap-on beard. Seriously. I’ve already added that item to next year’s packing list should I come to Kovalam again.

But until then I pulled my hat down low and began putting a hand up to acknowledge when they said hello or Biddy gave me the Indian Mafia Fruit Interrogation.

Then I stopped even putting my hand up and began just walking by with no acknowledgment but that made it worse:

Shopkeepers:

“You no talk with me anymore, Kristin. You were so happy a few days ago. Now you so quiet. You sad? You no talking anymore. You okay? Come look in my shop. That make you happy, happy. Very happy. Nice silk scarf. Only two hundred rupees but for you, one fifty. Special for you today, special lady! It’s free to look in my shop! Come on in, Kristin. Get happy in my shop.”

And Biddy, Fruit Lady from Hell:

“You buy the fruit from other fruit lady? Good girl, you only buy from Biddy. You very white, fruit make you healthy. You tired, fruit give you the energy. No buying from the other fruit ladies. Bad fruit from those ladies. My fruit the best, only buy from Biddy. Come back here. Where you going?”

And what is said with the eyes but not with the mouth: Buy my fruit, American lady, or I will hunt you down in my rickshaw and kill you with this pistol I have hidden in my sari.

But again, just so you get the accurate picture and don’t think I’m a wimp for freaking out about all of this: it’s not one shopkeeper and one Biddy. Oh no. That I could handle.

It’s at least four hundred shopkeepers a day plus Biddy who, lucky me, I get to see four times a day (walking back and forth to my treatment twice a day).

Oh joy.

A few days ago I began hiding in my room. I would walk –silently- back and forth to my treatments and then hunker down in my room just to be away from all the endless questions from shopkeepers + Biddy (who is like 100 shopkeepers rolled into one eleven-fingered package).

But then I began feeling pretty lonely.

I missed connecting with Lakshmi and her family and some of the shopkeepers that I have had nice chats with.

I even stopped connecting with the hotel staff during breakfast and when I’d come back from my treatments.

I would pick up my key and walk straight up to my room.

I needed quiet. No questions.  No selling me things.

I was on overload.

I had a talk with Allen about it.

Me (said with exasperation): “I can’t take this anymore, Allen. These shopkeepers saying hello every time I walk out of my room, every ten seconds, trying to sell me something. Biddy giving me the fruit interrogation. It’s driving me crazy. I could take a rickshaw to my treatment but I want to walk to get exercise and the safe places to walk are where the shopkeepers and Biddy are. Help!”

Now Allen, like most Indians, is a talker. He can go on and on with his wise Indian parables and his great dream interpretations, etc.

But when he has something especially important to say he becomes a zen master with his words.

“They are just doing their job.”

I stared at him.

Damn. He’s right.

“In America you do your job the way you do it. In India this the way we do business. You a businesswoman, Kristin, you should understand this.”

I should. Why don’t I understand this? Why is it so challenging for me to let people be the way they are?

“And besides, they like you. You here for a month, they want to get to know you. Most tourists not here as long as you are. You can make this a problem, a big problem, or just accept it. You choose. But this is the way we do business in India. You can’t change India.”

True.

And would I really want to change India?

India is growing on me in a way I never anticipated and I like the way India is even though it can be chaotic and so very annoying sometimes.

So here is how I’m now gearing up for my twice-daily walks to my Ayurvedic treatment so I don’t implode:  I tell myself to breathe, to not take the endless question-asking and the Indian hard-sell so personally.

I have a little pep talk with myself before I walk down the street which goes something like this: “When you get back to America you are going to miss this, Kristin. You are even going to miss Old Biddy. You are going to miss being seen. Because the Indians do see you.  They look right into your soul. They see the essence of you even if they also want your business and your money.”

Indians are honest and direct. They are good people. They like to talk and ask questions. They are interested in who I am. And they want to sell me things. I need to not take it so personally and to not let it affect me so much and just let them be.

End of story.

And as I’m making peace with who the Indians are I’m noticing that I’m already missing them even though I haven’t even left yet.

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