Learn the language – much less grief.
Kiss, kiss; hello, goodbye; one for each cheek.
Some markets are not safe for you to shop.
Don’t walk alone in the street.
Don’t run along the beach out of sight of people.
Try the food.
Become as invisible as possible in the crowd.
Your diamonds and gold beacon irresistibly,
Don’t take photos of people holding guns,
better yet, don’t even look a soldier’s way.
You will see things you wish you’d never seen.
No pictures of the street vendors either; ask or buy goods.
Know the going exchange rate for dollars.
Bargain for everything.
Get used to unfamiliar odors, sweet, rank, or mildly salty, like sweat.
Hire on whatever help you can afford.
Drink bottled water. Check the seal on the cap.
You’ll lose your appetite if you name the chicken carried home clucking.
Let the locals lead you to the dance floor.
Comfort comes when you learn the rhythm of the city.
You’ll discover faded beauty you alone are unable to restore.
Street urchins will heckle.
One day’s gift becomes expected ever after.
Know your limits.
Seek beyond what you can see.
Don’t feed wild animals.
If the wild dogs catch you, they’ll tear right in,
devour all evidence.