Near sunset, horsecarts run tourists to the most popular temples to view the end of the day from. I found a smaller place, one where there were no hawkers, and where you were still allowed to climb up to the top. About a half hour after I got there, two hawkers saw me and climbed up to chat and try to sell me paintings. I said no. Then one of the most poignant moments of the trip. One of them asked me "Why doesn't anyone buy our things? I sold nothing today." "Because at every single temple there are at least twenty people selling pretty much the same thing," I said. "And people don't like to be bothered too much when they just want to see sights." I pretty much felt ashamed of my life when they left...at my luck and at my relative prosperity. And now when I say, I realize how horribly condescending and faux-concernced it sounds. Being faced with poverty is enough to make you want to curl up in your house and pretend the rest of the world does not exist.