Summer holiday and getting coffee

Coffee halfway up in palm leaf roofed hut : Four police officers playing cards at the next table : The knowledge that we have no Vietnamese driving license, we know that the know, and who know that we know that they know... The eye contact is extensive, the uniformed estimate how much trouble we would do in case of doubt, and my face trying to say a lot of trouble, a lot of trouble, so much trouble that the dong some not worth the stress. Full seriousness we nod to us, the card game goes on, we will get : lucky and take a look at the cost Ferry Dublin Liverpool.
Again, trying to coffee a few glass beads to sell ( maybe we wear grass skirts and garlands ? ). An old sitting on floor and chews something red : lips and teeth discoloured bloody, as if she had just bitten into something alive. As it is clear that our consumption potential was exhausted with coffee, mineral water and mints, the hysterical friendliness turned into our trip: Even our polite Bye-bye remains unrequited.
The problem is : Hello- hello- country makes a slowly but surely blunted Idiots : In the evening I spoke a young girl in order kindly pointed out to me that I have just a pack of cigarettes has fallen out of the bag: it says " Excuse me " - I look in the first pulse in the other direction and accelerating the pace. And could even slap me then but looked at cost Ferry Harwich Hook of Holland>.
Just because parts of the population play as pushing a button, the trickster - record, as they are a non - Vietnamese sight, as far as I 'm soon to refuse any normal everyday communication. I find myself, as I stop the people to look at the faces : fear I lower my gaze to the floor, if eye contact is threatening : for fear of how- are-you -today -buy -some- peanuts - attack. The mercantile interests, however, does a disservice to the intrusiveness : Hello- hello has been sold to us by the reliable input of each clothes store and Summer Ferry Dublin Holyhead .
Censorship is there to handle it, especially the self-imposed : As at breakfast in the hotel three female chunks suddenly turn out to be those young New Zealanders, with her penetrating "It's just like me on the bus to Ha Long, you know, like, I mean Wow ! " have driven to madness, a renewed reflection on the phenomenon of tourists and tourism is inevitable. So go ahead : Why we hate the German tourism like the plague ?
Why reduce the voice of German abroad when other German locations in the café at the next table ? Why do they hide in the most beautiful places, photographing and get lost rather, to be recognized as by the use of a map as a tourist ? Why do they wear muted colors, subtle hairstyles and long linen pants and furtively eyeing the sights from the corner of his eye, while Spanish, English, Chinese, Japanese and Australians bring legs and cheerful in their Hawaiian shirts and shorts giga - big camera in position ? Is it the Mallorca Trauma in Kiel?
Or are we still afraid to come as conquerors, invaders, invaders in foreign countries ? Basically we are ashamed of the German- being, and because his own German - striking, especially abroad, we are being German with Tourism same.