The Shopkeeper always knew a month in advance how many cruise ships would be docking on a given day. It was a constant source of gossip amongst her circle of friends – the size of the ship, country of origin, length of stay. She would laugh with friends about how “Germans never speak and buy nothing, and Americans talk a lot and want everything for nothing.” She was repulsed by the way they’d walk through the main town square with an air of unearned superiority. How they feel at home wherever they are. Distant cities and towns bending to their will, turning culture into commodity. A ready-made third-world backdrop of blue sky and sand for the social media selfie of a tourist’s dreams and their friend’s envy or scorn or indifference. The days in the shop were long and hot and mostly a waste of time when nobody wanted to buy. Playing the island curiosity was easy, dealing with the tourist’s sense of entitlement was not.