Instead she watches my bag as I wade into negotiations with the sandwich lady, her daughter and several close friends.
"What have you got?" I ask
"OK, one please."
The women find this hysterical. "What, for a big man like you?"
This isn't a compliment, it's good salesmanship. It's also a fact. I am bigger than the average Indian woman. Let's face it – in a rational world – you see someone twice your size, you do not sell them baked goods – you run away and hide.
She adds, "We have pollo also."
I take a look, "OK two lomo." The sandwich ladies nod at my wisdom.
I ask the French photographer if she wants one. She purses her face, "It's too late."
Now that's just plain crazy. It's never too late for a sandwich. But, of course, I'd think that. I'm American.