Standing on the side of the road my guide Iqbal stops one rickshaw for a price quote on a destination. As this happens a few other rickshaws queue up behind him. He asks for a few more quotes. They give him gringo prices, inflated foreign rates on account of his pale friend, me. Finally he find one offering an acceptable fare. All verbal exchanges are made with poker faces unable to betray any emotion. I have no clue as to which rickshaw will take us until Iqbal waves me forward.