pain

So.
Bagan.
Temples.
Phagodas.
Monastries.
Royal grounds.
Not less traders, switching to beggars. Cycled around, which still is pain in the ass on this dollhouse bikes, but enough to escape. But not from this girl, following me. Didn´t want to, true. Her cycling on her oversized bike more looked like wading through the massiness of gravity.
– Hey Mister! Hello! Where are your from?
– What is your name?
– Where are you going?
Two more shy kids at about the same age in her tow. We were still cycling.
– You want to buy postcards? I have!
– No. No shopping, only looking.
– Why not?
Looking puppy.
– You buy me candies?
– Yes?! Follow me, shop nearly. You buy me candies, please?
– Yes I share.
At the shop.
– Can I have Coca Cola?
– Yes, Coca Cola and Candies!
– Hm. Ok. Candies.
She choosed a box of cookies.
– You buy two!
– Ok. One.
– Thank you, Mister!
In front of the shop, I couldn´t stop laughing about here. The cookies she stored in her bag, maybe offering the next tourist.
– And now you look my postcards, only looking.
– You buy postcards, price up to you. Please, I need money for school.
– Yes i do!
Of course she doesn´t. Basic school is for free. But I was so impressed by her acting, in this charming kind way, playing with her infacy like with cards and at the same time rude and saucy, punching me in my belly with a sweetened smile.
– Please!
Shwoing me her self-drawn postcards.
– Present for your friends.
– Yes. I will share.
– Bye Bye!
Waving, with a satisfied smile, following me a couple of corners chuckling among each other.
Of course they beaten me up. And of course this kids are a thorn in the pockets of the traidors, selling copied books, paintings, handcraft and postcards at the gates of the sightseeing spots, trying to pretend something like an honest and non-bothering standing. Some are really, some… whatever, not my business, but, I stabbed then in their backs by prejudice, that was my revenge.
After the first temple, my first meeting with a traidor, presenting me his paintings and all the other souvenir stuff, not accepting my “NO!”, trying still to be polite, don´t want to judge their kind of business, they have to. Took me one hour. So, i was getting pissed.
– No good business today. Please. Look, you can fold it, no problem.
FUCK YOU! I don´t want your fucking souvenirs, HELL DAMN IT!
– Everybody say sorry today. Don´t want to hear.
I understand, I really do and I really feel sorry for them, that they delivered to the moods of complaning, bargaining and stupid tourists. I don´t feel sorry about not to buy something. It is still not the pushy way the do business, but it will gets worst. And again! I don´t need that Bagan religious Disney World junk. I even don´t know how to hang it upside down. I don´t even own a wall!
Today, at Bagan, they are still building phagodas and temples, donated by a “minister and his wife” and self-sacrificing jerks around the world, to immortalize their bounty. – Donating a place, where the locals can do business? Really?
I DON`T WANNA BUY SOMETHING!!!
But, of course, I met some really nice guys as well, up on the phagodas, chatting and listening to their stories about stupid tourists, spending their money on fakes and copies.
I am templed out.
But climbing them is fun and enjoying the view amazing.
Praise my piles!