Gettin' Scammed, Jodhpur-style

One day in Jodhpur, we allowed ourselves to be scammed (a little). It was a guy from the hotel who we had struck up several interesting conversations with, and we let him take us to a couple shops (and yes, we do know better!).*

The first one was an eight-floor Aladdin’s cavern of finely-woven textiles, carpets, pashminas, glittering wall-hangings. The quality was by far the finest we’d yet seen in India. While sipping chai masala, the young men unfolded blanket after blanket, almost reverently describing the qualities of each one. They were stunning. Delicate swirls of silk and wool, all different and all very special. He showed us a scrapbook filled with newspaper cuttings and pictures of themselves with celebrities and designers. There was an old one of Valentino. Richard Gere (in all his eastern mystic glory). The entire cast of Darjeeling Limited. Bill Murray was wearing his familiar expression: that combination of crestfallen yet slightly hopeful.

We bought a number of things there (and we didn’t need any prompting from Richard Gere), including a gorgeous throw (more like an enormous pashmina) flowing with intricate patterns and peacock feather colors (my favorite). We were actually happy with our friend Mr. Commission from the hotel for taking us there, because the prices were still half what they’d be anywhere else. And the quality surpassed everything we’ve seen.

However, we should have said no to the spice shop, which was in the touristy area of town. Yes, we knew better. It was so apparent that this place was exclusively meant for tourists. Everything was nicely packaged and labeled… unlike the real spice markets where the spices are piled up in burlap bags and the spice seller weighs everything on a silver scale.

Oh, well. These spices and teas were meant for western convenience. Like the Jodhpuri tea, which includes the black tea, nutmeg, cardamom, anis, and vanilla all together. An Indian would never buy that. The saffron was about triple what we could have paid in the spice market. But again… oh, well. We allowed ourselves to get ripped off, and when you put it into perspective, it all amounted to about 10 bucks. Nothing to us, a lot to him.
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But later in the day, we were reminded again of the inherent generosity and hospitality of Indians. While taking photos of an extravagantly painted haveli in a back street, a nice man struck up a conversation with us and invited us in for tea. We sat down and he shouted out of the window to a chai wallah, who brought it in a plastic bag! After the tea was poured (or, more like squirted from a hole in the bag), our host opened a book about Jodhpur and explained each picture in the book (all 200 pages of it) in very halting English, giving us a bit of history about the city. Then he gave us a thorough tour of his narrow, creaking old house, and finally, with a burst of energy, he rushed up the final little set of stairs, which opened onto a rooftop. From there, you could see the whole city and the fort. He was positively glowing with pride.

When we left the house, we met an aunt, a grandmother, and a little girl. They wanted their picture taken, and I was happy to oblige. Clearly, they weren’t accustomed to being the subjects of photos, so they just sat there looking off or sucking their gums (particularly the one who had no teeth). We parted with an exchange of mobile numbers, email addresses, and general goodwill.

We were warned that Jodhpur would be a mass of hustlers and hassle, but we found the people to be very obliging and helpful (even Mr. Commission). They were always happy to point us in the right direction (in that maze of streets), or have their picture taken, or offer us a smile and a friendly “namaste”. We were equally happy to lose ourselves in the commotion of the bazaars or the quiet, winding back streets. Again… it was magic.

*These guys get a commission for taking you to a shop/hotel/whatever. They act like they're just showing you around, being nice. But they come back later to get a percentage of whatever you bought. I'm pretty sure this is common practice all over the developing world.