Quick message and a story
Hola everyone!
Here's a real quick note,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARIA!!!
I miss you Paige!
I hope everything is going well for everyone these past few days.
I needed to post that b-day message and I would like to say that here is a small segment I wrote in class about Cambodia. Its a small part, but this is what happened and hopefully some of you will understand.
For One Dollar
I remember when I was a kid I thought my five dollars in my pocket meant I was richer than any other kids around my age. I always believed that no matter how much money I had, my parents were the richest of them all.
When I grew older I figured out that my parents are not as rich as I thought. I actually believed that we were poor. I try to give them my money from my jobs instead I got a big lecture saying that we are not poor. My parents told me that they are fine, and not to worry about it. I do worry about money. I feel that I should give away my money to those who are more in need. I remember couple of times I gave homeless people my dinner, but I got a lecture from my friends how dangerous and stupid that was and probably the homeless and beggars are liars.
We should never give any of the homeless or beggars money because they will follow any one until they give them more. I should not be so naive into thinking that they are only asking for food. I should think that they must be drug addicts and it’s their fault for being on the streets.
When I went to Cambodia to visit Angor Wat temples I got mobbed with little kids and adults on buying their product in order to go to school, eat, buy clothing, all for one dollar. I wondered if they knew how American’s view one dollar as a priceless thing that doesn’t buy them a drink at a vending machine. I knew that a dollar means more to the people who are selling to the tourists and buying themselves rice for a week.
There were two experiences both bad and good in my stay in Cambodia about the shoppers. At one temple, I did want a tee-shirt and walked into one of the many shops that they offered at the end of the tour. I picked a random one, thinking that I couldn’t buy anything because I didn’t have exactly one dollar but couple of twenty dollar bills. When I walked in to the hut, with grass roofs and dirt floor, I kindly asked where do you sell tee-shirts. The wife of the owner showed me and pointed me to the good ones. She left me alone while I picked and choose. I noticed her two little kids were hiding behind their mother and peaking between her legs. They were curious and I smiled, waved at them. They waved back and in a shy voice said, “Hello.”
I grinned and in my bad Cambodian I replied hello back. The older man of the store which I presumed to be the father laughed and tried to teach me the proper way to say hello in Cambodian, unfortunately I forgot how to say it.
Though in English I asked how they were and if I can take a picture of them which made the children ran to get in front of my camera. The little boy with just a tee-shirt on ran to the store hammock next to the tee shirt, while the sister ran and jumped in front of her brother showing her fingers in a ‘v’ sign. They were fighting by the sister trying to cover his face, while the brother was pushing his sister out of the way. My first thought has been fighting for attention is cross cultural in any type of country amongst siblings.
The mother came up to make sure everything was okay. I pointed which tee-shirts I wanted and asked if she had change on her. She said that she does have change, so I picked out my tee-shirt and post cards while playing more with the kids, by smiling and trying to convince them that I want a picture of two of them together, doesn’t need to be separate.
The mother came back sad looking and told me, that she didn’t have enough change and brought along a scarf to make it up. I did not want a scarf or better yet, I didn’t have enough room to fit any more things and the bus was leaving in any second. I asked her to give me some of the change and could she be in my picture and we will be even. She smiled and said thank you. I know that she was a sincere woman with her, her kids, and her husband and again in my bad Cambodian I replaied thank you and ran to the bus. I hoped that they will succeed and my twenty dollars will feed them for many months.
As an American I felt two ways, I was happy to have them save couple of dollars and be able to use the twenty more productively then I can. I did a mental check to make sure that couple of dollars will not hurt me, but felt disgusted that just giving away couple of dollars is natural for my budget. It made me wonder if a dollar means so much in Cambodia and in other countries, than why can’t Americans put away a dollar each day to give away to people who need it the most. After the day of visiting the other temples and coming back again to the main campus of Angor Wat, I walked to the area where the Buddhist monks lived. The area was filled with vendors who were again trying to sell their stuff. While debating if I should get a guide book about the temples, a women who looked in her thirties with her hair tied back in a bun caring everything in her bag with arms hugging books. She came to me and asked if I wanted the guide book.
“I’m debating about that.”
“For fifteen dollar. See cheaper than the asking price at the back.”
“How about ten dollar.”
“No. Fifteen.”
“Well, let me think about it. You see I don’t know if I want it or not. Will I read it? Will I have the use for it?” I was becoming wishy-washy with the product she was trying to sell. I can see the hint of annoyance in her face that I wasn’t cooperating with her. I told her,
“Let me walk around for a bit and think about it. Okay?”
“No. You are going to buy it from someone else and not from me!”
“I don’t want to do that, I do want to help you, but let me THINK about it.” My patience exploded from this point. The annoyance of people telling me to buy, buy, buy just got to my nerves and I couldn’t help it any more. I needed time to think in silence without the commercials or telling me that a thing will coast one dollar or more. I just needed room to think. Its cross-cultural again, sales people hate it when people are thinking and want the customer to buy now. After my explosion I told the saleslady, “I will be walking up and down on the other side with no vendors, let me think about it.” So I turned my heels and started to walk away.
She yelled, “eight dollar!” I sighed and just agreed to pay for it. I know she has family and need to survive eight dollars will be fine. Then I saw her partner who was selling scarf’s. She told me that I bought from her that I should buy from her too. I told her,
“let me think about it.” I truly thought about couple of women in my life that means a lot for me. Though I remember that I don’t have much money left in the first place, and felt I went over my budget on souvenirs in Cambodia. I think I politely said no but she still keep telling me about profits, feeding, selling, and buying from someone else. My patience was lost again, so I took out a dollar and told her,
“Just leave me alone! I will give a dollar for free, just leave me alone please!”
Then I walked away and she didn’t bother me from there. I went back onto the bus and saw couple of the adult passengers talking with the kids who were selling materials again for one dollar. I realized that treating the sale lady that way wasn’t the best, that I should try and to think in their shoes. While trying to understand how the dollar means so much to many people, I looked outside and amazed how people can just talk to the sellers on a personal level and not feel the need to buy from the sellers. I go out and try to follow their example and succeed just a little by asking a girl what is her dream. She dreams to own her own little store. I told her good luck and I will visit her store one day. I again get on the bus to go back to the hotel and digest what happened in Cambodia in my mind.
The American buck I figured out has two meaning, it is less important for the States to give away freely just like what I did, and not be affected at all. The dollar can be the most important things in countries that a person can buy with the dollar. A buck can provide them food, shelter, clothing, and anything that they need which they can’t get with their own currency. The dollar has a double edge sword that can’t be gone away with, even though it’s just a dollar.
Here's a real quick note,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARIA!!!
I miss you Paige!
I hope everything is going well for everyone these past few days.
I needed to post that b-day message and I would like to say that here is a small segment I wrote in class about Cambodia. Its a small part, but this is what happened and hopefully some of you will understand.
For One Dollar
I remember when I was a kid I thought my five dollars in my pocket meant I was richer than any other kids around my age. I always believed that no matter how much money I had, my parents were the richest of them all.
When I grew older I figured out that my parents are not as rich as I thought. I actually believed that we were poor. I try to give them my money from my jobs instead I got a big lecture saying that we are not poor. My parents told me that they are fine, and not to worry about it. I do worry about money. I feel that I should give away my money to those who are more in need. I remember couple of times I gave homeless people my dinner, but I got a lecture from my friends how dangerous and stupid that was and probably the homeless and beggars are liars.
We should never give any of the homeless or beggars money because they will follow any one until they give them more. I should not be so naive into thinking that they are only asking for food. I should think that they must be drug addicts and it’s their fault for being on the streets.
When I went to Cambodia to visit Angor Wat temples I got mobbed with little kids and adults on buying their product in order to go to school, eat, buy clothing, all for one dollar. I wondered if they knew how American’s view one dollar as a priceless thing that doesn’t buy them a drink at a vending machine. I knew that a dollar means more to the people who are selling to the tourists and buying themselves rice for a week.
There were two experiences both bad and good in my stay in Cambodia about the shoppers. At one temple, I did want a tee-shirt and walked into one of the many shops that they offered at the end of the tour. I picked a random one, thinking that I couldn’t buy anything because I didn’t have exactly one dollar but couple of twenty dollar bills. When I walked in to the hut, with grass roofs and dirt floor, I kindly asked where do you sell tee-shirts. The wife of the owner showed me and pointed me to the good ones. She left me alone while I picked and choose. I noticed her two little kids were hiding behind their mother and peaking between her legs. They were curious and I smiled, waved at them. They waved back and in a shy voice said, “Hello.”
I grinned and in my bad Cambodian I replied hello back. The older man of the store which I presumed to be the father laughed and tried to teach me the proper way to say hello in Cambodian, unfortunately I forgot how to say it.
Though in English I asked how they were and if I can take a picture of them which made the children ran to get in front of my camera. The little boy with just a tee-shirt on ran to the store hammock next to the tee shirt, while the sister ran and jumped in front of her brother showing her fingers in a ‘v’ sign. They were fighting by the sister trying to cover his face, while the brother was pushing his sister out of the way. My first thought has been fighting for attention is cross cultural in any type of country amongst siblings.
The mother came up to make sure everything was okay. I pointed which tee-shirts I wanted and asked if she had change on her. She said that she does have change, so I picked out my tee-shirt and post cards while playing more with the kids, by smiling and trying to convince them that I want a picture of two of them together, doesn’t need to be separate.
The mother came back sad looking and told me, that she didn’t have enough change and brought along a scarf to make it up. I did not want a scarf or better yet, I didn’t have enough room to fit any more things and the bus was leaving in any second. I asked her to give me some of the change and could she be in my picture and we will be even. She smiled and said thank you. I know that she was a sincere woman with her, her kids, and her husband and again in my bad Cambodian I replaied thank you and ran to the bus. I hoped that they will succeed and my twenty dollars will feed them for many months.
As an American I felt two ways, I was happy to have them save couple of dollars and be able to use the twenty more productively then I can. I did a mental check to make sure that couple of dollars will not hurt me, but felt disgusted that just giving away couple of dollars is natural for my budget. It made me wonder if a dollar means so much in Cambodia and in other countries, than why can’t Americans put away a dollar each day to give away to people who need it the most. After the day of visiting the other temples and coming back again to the main campus of Angor Wat, I walked to the area where the Buddhist monks lived. The area was filled with vendors who were again trying to sell their stuff. While debating if I should get a guide book about the temples, a women who looked in her thirties with her hair tied back in a bun caring everything in her bag with arms hugging books. She came to me and asked if I wanted the guide book.
“I’m debating about that.”
“For fifteen dollar. See cheaper than the asking price at the back.”
“How about ten dollar.”
“No. Fifteen.”
“Well, let me think about it. You see I don’t know if I want it or not. Will I read it? Will I have the use for it?” I was becoming wishy-washy with the product she was trying to sell. I can see the hint of annoyance in her face that I wasn’t cooperating with her. I told her,
“Let me walk around for a bit and think about it. Okay?”
“No. You are going to buy it from someone else and not from me!”
“I don’t want to do that, I do want to help you, but let me THINK about it.” My patience exploded from this point. The annoyance of people telling me to buy, buy, buy just got to my nerves and I couldn’t help it any more. I needed time to think in silence without the commercials or telling me that a thing will coast one dollar or more. I just needed room to think. Its cross-cultural again, sales people hate it when people are thinking and want the customer to buy now. After my explosion I told the saleslady, “I will be walking up and down on the other side with no vendors, let me think about it.” So I turned my heels and started to walk away.
She yelled, “eight dollar!” I sighed and just agreed to pay for it. I know she has family and need to survive eight dollars will be fine. Then I saw her partner who was selling scarf’s. She told me that I bought from her that I should buy from her too. I told her,
“let me think about it.” I truly thought about couple of women in my life that means a lot for me. Though I remember that I don’t have much money left in the first place, and felt I went over my budget on souvenirs in Cambodia. I think I politely said no but she still keep telling me about profits, feeding, selling, and buying from someone else. My patience was lost again, so I took out a dollar and told her,
“Just leave me alone! I will give a dollar for free, just leave me alone please!”
Then I walked away and she didn’t bother me from there. I went back onto the bus and saw couple of the adult passengers talking with the kids who were selling materials again for one dollar. I realized that treating the sale lady that way wasn’t the best, that I should try and to think in their shoes. While trying to understand how the dollar means so much to many people, I looked outside and amazed how people can just talk to the sellers on a personal level and not feel the need to buy from the sellers. I go out and try to follow their example and succeed just a little by asking a girl what is her dream. She dreams to own her own little store. I told her good luck and I will visit her store one day. I again get on the bus to go back to the hotel and digest what happened in Cambodia in my mind.
The American buck I figured out has two meaning, it is less important for the States to give away freely just like what I did, and not be affected at all. The dollar can be the most important things in countries that a person can buy with the dollar. A buck can provide them food, shelter, clothing, and anything that they need which they can’t get with their own currency. The dollar has a double edge sword that can’t be gone away with, even though it’s just a dollar.