Don Curry gets into the Christmas spirit

Don Curry is not easily surprised. He sees life soberly and loves it finely regulated. Everything has to be in its place, where it belongs. And if something gets mixed up, it's a disruption, not a surprise.

But today, there were things happening that Don Curry didn't see coming. And yet, it couldn't be classified as a disruption. No, today Don Curry was in for more than just a surprise.

It started on the way to breakfast. In the elevator, Don Curry heard a choir singing a familiar melody. He didn't pay much attention to it - elevator music, after all. But in the dining room, the choir continued to sing loudly: 'Ding, dong, merrily on high', a well-known English Christmas carol. Had Don Curry missed something? Or traveled back in time? Sure, the birth of Christ was just 3 weeks ago. But in Jaipur? In the heat? In mid-January? Christmas songs!!??!! Mercilessly, the choir continued to sing about the manger and the stable, about angels and shepherds. And Don Curry drank a freshly squeezed grass-green cucumber-mint juice from the breakfast buffet to accompany it: Cheerio! Surely a British drink that could only get better after Brexit, had to get better.... Some muesli and 2 walnut-sized mini muffins completed the first cautious breakfast after the forced colon cleansing. 'Ding, dong, merrily on high' Don Curry forced himself not to hum.

The room was quickly vacated, too quickly, as it would soon show, the check-out went smoothly, and Mr. Sanjay was already waiting for new honking frenzies.

On the way, there were no sights this time, but various landscapes of Rajasthan to admire: sometimes desert-like, sometimes rocky, sometimes North German flat. Mr. Sanjay once again stopped at one of the obscure midway restaurants, apparently only used by drivers and their tourists. As a precaution, Don Curry decided against another lunch experience and instead headed for the toilets. At the door, a small elderly gentleman greeted him joyfully with an adorable radiant smile and handed Don Curry a napkin with the inscription 'Welcome' as if it were a personally selected Christmas gift. No toilet had ever been so excited to see Don Curry. Slightly confused but determined, he proceeded with his task, only to realize the purpose of the thin paper napkin: there was nothing else. When Don Curry turned on the faucet of the sink, the little gentleman suddenly stood right next to him, beaming, and handed Don Curry two napkins with the inscription 'Welcome' with a grand gesture. Indians are really logical: after all, humans have two hands, but only one..., Don Curry resolutely didn't think it through.

Towards the end of the journey, Mr. Sanjay came up with a small contribution to liven up the otherwise tedious drive, a visit to a women's cooperative. 'Just look, don't buy!' Mr. Sanjay said faithfully. But Don Curry knew what awaited him now. He had been dragged to many carpet shops in this world.

He was greeted kindly, was allowed to watch the women doing their handicrafts outside, got some information, and was then ushered into the shop.

A smooth-talking man was already there and surprised Don Curry with an extremely original introduction: Unfortunately, the salesman was not available at the moment, he and the others present were artists who contributed their works for sale. Of course, they could tell a lot about their products, but he had to consider: We know how to work, but we don't know how to sell...

How many customers may have thought after this opening that they could make real bargains with inexperienced salespeople? That it was completely different, Don Curry would quickly find out, because the game began according to all the rules of art. And today, Don Curry felt like playing...

The greeting artist referred to a young colleague who started a harmless conversation about the exhibited tiger pictures. After about 10 minutes, a second 'artist' joined them, then an old man, whom Don Curry mentally called 'the echo' because his only contributions were the occasional weighty repetition of the last sentence of one of his two colleagues. And finally, a very young man without a speaking role, who only helped with pointing and who had to tidy up afterwards.

A game of 1 to 4, so it could be exciting. Slowly, the tour through the various sales areas developed: tablecloths, table runners, bed linen, duvets, T-shirts, jackets, wall tapestries, etc. New in the offer were throws for king-size beds, which could also be used as tablecloths. Don Curry briefly thought about buying a new house to accommodate a king-size bed or a table of the same size...

Following the classic rules of civilized trading, tea was served, the extremely low prices were pointed out, the absence of middlemen emphasized, and the heavy fate of poor women who only wanted to feed their children with the proceeds was lamented...

The four of them knew the entire repertoire from teary-eyed to indignant. The products were spread out on the floor and formed stacks upon stacks at a minute's notice. 'Just look!' said the young artist. 'Just look!' echoed the echo weightily.

At some point, one of the wall tapestries caught Don Curry's attention, which did not go unnoticed by the experienced observers. Of course, this particular piece was antique, 100 years old, sometimes even 200 years. Nevertheless, Don Curry asked about the price, and after a long look, he initiated the final phase of the game. The price tag demanded a considerable amount.

Don Curry showed horror and turned away, but now the best prices came one after another, specially for him. According to the unwritten rules of bargaining, the actual price is about half of the initially stated price. So now Don Curry knew what the piece would cost. That was clearly too much for him. So he tried a very specific variation of the game. When asked about his price expectation, he gave a quarter of the initial price.

General outrage on the side of the non-salespeople, even the boy without a speaking role looked disgustedly at Don Curry. He shrugged and was about to go to the next department when the price started moving again, going below half of the initial price. Actually, Don Curry should have increased his offer now, but he made it clear: at his price, or not at all. Once again, there was outrage, disgusted looks, and even the echo fell silent. The game was over.

But when Don Curry had finished with the carpet section, there suddenly was a new, best and final price: about a third of the initial price. Don Curry politely declined, whereupon the main negotiator said he had to ask the manager if he could go even lower with the price. 'He has to ask the manager', the echo solemnly explained. Meanwhile, Don Curry had his head skillfully wrapped in a turban in the Maharaja style, which he didn't want to buy.

The manager set one final limit, Don Curry declined, and the game was over. After going through the souvenir section, Don Curry approached the exit. At the cashier's desk, the manager happened to have Don Curry's carpet lying there. He could make one last offer: it was now only slightly below Don Curry's price expectation. But once again, he declined, and with a smile, the manager sold him the good piece at Don Curry's price - a quarter of the initial price, something he had never managed before.  'Ding, dong, merrily on high'

However, the 'artists' didn't seem discouraged at all, the young artist even gave him a small wooden cow, and the women outside waved happily to Don Curry as he left the women's cooperative with Mr. Sanjay.

Now he was going to the hotel where Don Curry would spend the next two nights. Beyond the village of Ranthambore, the snow-white domes of an extensive building soon stood out: the Nahargarh Hotel. It had been built about 20 years ago in the style of a Maharaja summer palace and stretched over four inner courtyards, with the rooms located on the inner two courtyards. It looked like a livable fairy tale from Arabian Nights to Don Curry.

The reception had once again assigned him a particularly spacious room on the top floor, with a wide view of the nearby national park and its own terrace. However, it had also become apparent at the reception that his passport was no longer there: it must have stayed in Jaipur together with his jacket. The reception wanted to take care of it...

Although it was already shortly after 4:00 pm, Don Curry still got something from the lunch buffet: potato-pepper curry and a particularly delicious guava curry. In the evening, there was even a barbecue, and Don Curry finally sank blissfully into the pillows of his huge bed. 'Ding, dong, merrily on high' What would he dream of today?