Lost in Interpretation

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When traveling by myself I get a lot of quirky visitors and questions.

  • “What country do you come from?”
  • “Where do you work?”
  • “How much does a house cost in the US?”
  • “Are you married?”
  • “Do you like Indian culture?”
  • “How much does a Civil Engineer II make in the US?”
  • “Can you deliver something to my cousin in New Jersey for me?”

This past week I found myself alone on a train in Rajasthan and got one of my favorite questions yet.  A man stopped to ask me the usual questions while eagerly looking over my belongings on my seat table. He picked up the paper below that Evan and I had been using to keep score while playing cards.

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“This is your home written language?” He asked with awe. I paused and smiled, responding, “No, it’s just numbers.” But I don’t think he bought it.  He spent a good two minutes admiring the foreign paper before finally continuing his way to the back of the train.

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