Friday, May 6, 2011

Papa, Paparazzi

The Indian tourists loved me.  (Not that I can blame them).  Dave, on the other hand, they were not so impressed with.  When they weren't speaking to him in Hindi, they were relegating him to camera duty, probably assuming that he was merely my local guide ("Kashmiri boy?") and sherpa (a surprisingly accurate assessment).  The distinction can be summed up as follows:

To cries of, "photo, photo, please photo!" I happily flashed my most winning smile, hoping that it would in some way compensate for my un-blow-dried hair and lack of makeup.  Here are just a few of the photos memorialized in countless photo albums, scrapbooks, and cellphones throughout India.

I don't know how Dave managed to sneak into that one.
He certainly looks like he's more a part of their family than my family.

Everyone's in orange! I fit right in here!
There were so many camera flashes going off I didn't even know where to look.
Dave and Russ started getting invited into photos after they shaved their heads. 
On the other hand, I no longer wanted them in any of my pictures.
I love the long reach to Dave's shoulder.  Does he have the longest arm ever?
An oldy but goody from Luxor, Egypt.
Love the guy to my right.  Heyyyyyyy.
What better way to capture the love and intimacy of an arranged-marriage honeymoon
than to pose for photos with three American strangers?

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