It’s the old adage that time is money made manifest. My relationship with the rickshaw driver is such: I have money, he has time. When he charges me ten times the amount he would a local I pay. Ultimately, the extra money is worth less to me than the half hour I would have to spend searching and fighting for a reasonable price.

I try to comfort myself with this thought, instead of screaming with frustration at being ripped off wherever I go. I daydream about taking a day off so I can haggle for hours at an end.