I make you happy happy

With a view of the magnificent Taj I order breakfast on the roof top of my hotel in Agra.

"Sir, I'll have a stuffed paratha with curd and chai please."

"Yes madam. Paratha is chapati, you know chapati? Chapati with potato insice."

"Yes, I know." (This information would have been welcomed 3 months ago, but now after having eaten chapati every day for 12 weeks I find it irritating). "I'll have paratha please, and curd."

"Yes, yes, curd means yoghurt."

"Yes, yes. Thank you." I was afraid he would tell me chai meant tea next.

"Ok, madam. What would you like for breakfast?"

AHHHHH. I miss the Indians who just don't speak english. The cities are draining with the constant badgering from rickshaws, "tour guides" and vendors.

There is something to be said though to the fact that I seem to manage to shake them off far faster then fellow tourists, especially those that are new to India. It's a good feeling I guess, to know that I am recognized for knowing my way around and have confidence in my "no."