I love bargains. I come alive when street shopping. Therefore, it is but natural that I thrive when in India – going down the cramped streets, stopping at stores selling wares in shallow little stalls, talking my very best in regional language to stop myself from being duped by a shopkeeper charging me 200% more for a shirt. I never lose the battle and always come out on top. Except when getting those damn chappals (flip-flops).
Chappals. Pretty Mojris (heels). Sigh. Always approach them with the hope that maybe this time, I’ll win. Nope, I always lose. And not because my bargaining skills are somehow compromised.
I am Bigfoot reincarnated. I ask for the maximum size possible at a variety of stores (small and big). Excitedly, I slip my foot in. Stuck. My foot is half in and can go no further.
Ciao Commoner, You’re no Cinderella
Say both the shoe and the shop-owner.
I have been losing the shoe battle for 10 years straight (that’s when I started tracking). It’s not just with shoe size — my average American height of 5’6 too stands out like a sore thumb amidst cute Gujarati women. And I am left with a hunch because I always have to bend due to low ceilings. OK – in that I exaggerate, but you get the point!