When we got stuck at this place, I was told the news while eating soup sold to me by a woman who lived and sold food out of a giant white tent. She overheard the news and I think she felt sorry for me. I think she felt sorry for me because I was clueless white guy in a sea of Indians. Or it could be because of my ridiculous attire (mis matched, thick wool socks with flip flops, fly in pants broken) lead her to believe believe I was mentally handicapped, or at least really confused. Either way, she told me I could stay with her and her family in their giant white tent house as long as I like. I ended up staying just a few hours, but I appreciated the sentiment very much. Here are some photos of my would-be home:
The Camp Site.
The home.
My bed.
My foster mother.
1 comment:
Yes, Dave, the world is full of mothers. I'm quite sure that, had you stayed, she would have found you some "real shoes" in no time. L
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