Signs, signs, everywhere there're signs . . . .

I really should be in bed now, but I just downloaded some pictures from visiting Jaipur (the "pink city") over the past couple of days, and I wanted to share some of the MANY entertaining signs here. One that does not appear here, because sometimes things happen when you don't have your camera ready, is the sign we passed in a rickshaw advertising "Guru Placement Services." Tom Fink, apply here for your next placement.

Anyone reading this must realize already that I have a fondness for grammar and usage errors when it comes to signs, though I have less tolerance for those issues in papers my students write.
Here's a Mumbai park sign that shows a simple and direct approach to writing - no grammar errors for this author. It tells you exactly what you're supposed to pick up "after your dog." Don't you wonder what non English-speakers think when they see our euphemistic signs in the U.S.? Pick up my dog? Stand up taller like my dog?

Here's one that suggests the ultimate coffee experience, in the Bandra neighborhood of Mumbai, for those of you who would like to try it out. I had not thought of combining these two activities before, but apparently these two nubile maidens approve, so maybe this can be my new source of caffeine (Does anyone need or want caffeine when getting a tattoo?)

By the way, I discovered by accidentally clicking on one of the blog pictures that if you do so, you will see every detail, including close-ups of skin pores, inappropriate language, or the type of cappucino that "Al" serves, in the picture.

Last but not least, this one's for the girls. If you've been looking for this, then now you know that Jaipur's the place. Apparently, though, he's closed on Sundays. Wouldn't you know that that's the day I visited his place? Oh well, if anyone gets there while he's available, tell me about the experience.
Fortunately, Raymond was not there to witness what we had just seen, which was a motorbike rider crashing into an old man (age is actually sometimes hard to discern here) and knocking him down. A couple of men next to him helped him get up, which was difficult for him to do - even with his cane - but neither the motorbike operator or passenger got off the bike. In fact, as soon as it appeared that the man would not need hospitalization (though he looked like he needed food, clothing, and a health plan), they took off. Not that I'm generalizing, but I now hate motorbike riders - at least those who hit old disabled men and then ride off without even helping him back up.

But, and this is especially for Aunt Lilli (aka "Anonymous"), or others who may think that India is not beautiful, here's the view from outside our hotel room, only a mile from Raymond's place, on Sat. evening. Imagine hearing the call to prayer (ok, it was a sound system, but it was still cool) while seeing this view.