Money Exchange and Ma$$age...

India is just a different world. I mean, it's a different planet. Yaya, a different planet in a different universe.

Yaya, um hum, uh huh.ok.kk.k.k.k.ya ya ya (this is how you say good bye on the phone)

I have a Foreign Exchange Executive I call when I need to exchange my currency. We've been talking all week waiting for a rate that pleases me. I finally got a rate I wanted so he just stopped by. After our exchange he asked why I was so serious. I told him I had a headache that was making me feel bad and sad. He offered a head massage. Basically, he insisted on the head massage. The doors were open in my guest room so I figured, why not.

I know, I know, silly Debsy....don't let strange men massage your head ;-) What was I thinking you might ask? I wasn't. That's the thing here:. Don't worry, don't think, just relax and be happy. Happy? Yaya happy.

So, he massages my temples then my forehead then my eyes then my jaw. All I could think of is what would people think. I realized he managed to take half my pain away. This is good, very very good. Then he took his helmet and phone and left.

Why don't American's do business this way?