“You know, many people come here in a car, get out and shoot many pictures. This Slum is very famous. They just come, shoot, leave and sell the pictures. This is why many people here are suspicious about people with cameras.” I felt bad.
I am a total novice to India. Everything that I know about it stems from a long-standing obsession with the beautiful verbal tapestries woven by a handful of my favourite authors. But life is stranger, more colourful and complicated than fiction:
Oh yes, the backpackers. Completely individually they are traveling the country with the Lonely Planet in their hand. They meet outer backpackers in the Blue Lassi Shop in Varanasi, after they have “done” the South. They tell you how amazing everything is, whom they have met and discuss peace and freedom. Yes, I am also guilty.
I am waiting at a bus stand in a city in Haryana. With a lot of luggage. Two backpacks: A big one on my back and a small on in front of me on the floor. If I had not carried presents for my hosts it would have been just one and a lot anger less. But I got acquainted with the culture, as the good anthropologist or human that I am.
My mum came to visit me in India and for some days, I am a very normal tourist. This brings advantages and disadvantages. The biggest problem is that I am not a guest anymore, but a pocket full of money.