One of the most memorable part of my trip to Honduras was my first horseback riding tour. We rode up the mountains and through coffee plantations from the Copan Valley to La Pintada, a Maya-Chorti village known for the production of corn-husk dolls. I don’t remember ever going through so many emotions in such a short period of time, even during my time of the month.
I was terrified that my horse would throw me off the edge of the cliff or run me into the barbed wires. I was in pain from gripping the saddle so hard with my hands and thighs. I was pissed at Renaldo, my tour guide, for repeatedly making my horse gallop by whipping its behind when I told him not to. I’m sure Renaldo did it for his own entertainment. I was heartbroken to see the little girls in the village chase us on our horses so they can sell us their corn-husk dolls. But most of all, I was heated that Renaldo treated these girls as if they were part of another show-and-tell routine.
When I got off my horse at La Pintada, a swarm of little girls surrounded me and shoved their beautifully crafted corn-husk dolls in my face. No matter how many times I said, “No gracias,” they were extremely persistent in asking me to buy one of their dolls. Renaldo seemed to know them well as I’m sure this is not the first time he has brought foreigners up to La Pintada.
The village is situated on top of a hill with a beautiful view of the Acropolis at the Copan Ruins. We took a 10 minute hike to Los Sapos, a Maya site dedicated to women and fertility. While I was slipping and sliding and huffing away carrying a dinky little book bag, a girl about 6 or 7 ran happily next to me without any shoes. She made me look like a pansy.
The little girl climbed with us all the way to the top to Los Sapos where an eroded stone had been carved into a shape of a frog by the Mayans. Right next to it was an extremely rough carving of a woman carrying a baby. While Renaldo spoke to us about the ruins, the little girl climbed up and down the rocks holding on to the one corn-husk doll she was trying to sell me.
As we made our way down from Los Sapos, we saw the rest of the girls waiting eagerly for us at the base of the hill. Knowing that we’d be leaving the village soon, Renaldo asked my friend and I one more time if we wanted to purchase a doll from the girls. “No pressure,” he said but I’m sure that’s not what he meant. What he did next was something I resented him for.
Renaldo asked the girls to gather around us and sing Honduras’ national anthem. Now, you might think it’s no big deal and that I’m just being overly sensitive but at that moment, I wanted to be anywhere but there. Renaldo probably thought he was helping the girls but in reality, he was doing them more harm than good by exploiting them. What he was essentially teaching them was this: Sing for the gringos, or in our case the chinas, and they will buy your dolls.
These girls aren’t for show and tell. I felt like he guilted us into buying a doll and I’m ashamed to say that it worked. I bought one. I was upset that these girls were being exploited and they didn’t even know it. I don’t mind giving money to those who need it but I much rather give my time and effort because as soon as I handed one of the girls a dollar, they all disappeared as if they have been conditioned to countless times before.
As hard as I tried to fight it, I didn’t want to buy a doll from these girls. It’s not because I’m cheap or heartless. I just don’t want these children growing up thinking that this is a reliable the way to make a living. It’s not. Buying a doll from them only reinforces the idea that selling corn-husk dolls is better than going to school and getting an education. I don’t want them to be dependent on tourists to buy their dolls for the rest of their lives. I much rather these girls be independent and self-sufficient.
Here’s a brief history lesson: According to US government records, the first Chinese immigrants arrived in 1820. However, it has been documented that on August 9th, 1785 three Chinese seamen arrived aboard the Pallas from Canton (now Guangzhou), China . They first stepped foot on Baltimore’s Inner Harbor 225 years ago.
Today Baltimore is known as Charm City where the Inner Harbor is filled with fine seafood dining, the museums are all free and their maritime heritage is just as pervasive now as it was then. It makes perfect sense to have the National Aquarium here in Baltimore along with the world’s best crab cakes ever at Phillips Seafood.
JC and I strolled around the Inner Harbor Saturday night and saw a massive line snaked around the admission booths. We sauntered over to see what the buzz was all about and discovered that the National Aquarium was having an amazing deal. They were offering a dolphin show, aquarium admission and a 4D movie screening for just $16! The aquarium has enough exhibits to keep you entertained for the entire day. The best part of the aquarium was “Jellies Invasion: Oceans Out of Balance.” It was captivating the way these creatures moved and remarkable how their physique is designed to glide through water.
Image via WikiCommons
Baltimore might be known as Charm City but it also has the highest murder rates in the country. Not so far away from the harbor is the apparent poverty. Baltimore’s Inner Harbor was once the second leading port of entry for immigrants to the United States and a major manufacturing center. I spent my New Years in Baltimore. Not a place you’d associate ringing in the New Year with but JC and I went to watch the annual fireworks at the Inner Harbor. It was quite a view for a small city like Baltimore. On our way back to the hotel, we stopped by a 7-Eleven to pick up some water. In front of the convenient store was a black man sitting in the middle of the sidewalk on a 10 degree night, obliviously drunk and discombobulated.
When we left the convenient store a black guy approached us and told us this long (and I mean long) drawn out story that went something likes this:
Hey my brotha, can you spare some change? I parked my car ova thea but lost my keys so I asked the 5-0 to use their carjack to open ma door but then it broke and naw I gotta hop on the bus home except I ain’t got ’nuff change and I know in this parta town wheneva a black man asks for change, people automatically think he a bum. But I ain’t no bum. I just needa get home. Look’a hea, I got my ID. Imma give you ma ID and you can hold on to it till I come back. Hea, why don’t you hold on to that and imma be right back.
By that time, we just wanted to give him the money so we could all get on with our night. In hindsight, I’m pretty sure his game plan for a long- drawn out story was to make the person feel as uncomfortable as possible so that they’d just give the money and have him leave. JC gave him some change and told him not to worry about paying him back. When we got back to our hotel room, we turned on the TV and the first thing we hear is that Baltimore just had their first murder of 2010. Nice.
But hey! Don’t let that deter you from visiting Baltimore. There’s plenty to see and do in Charm City. There’s a reason they call it that. You just have to go and find out why.
Those who know me well, or well enough, know that I’ve been looking to work with a non-profit for a very long time. Many NGOs I’ve come across were looking for someone to work in-house on a daily basis. I have a 9-7 so that wasn’t going to work.
Then, I received an email newsletter from FXB International, a non-profit organization that aims to deliver sustainable results for children affected by poverty and AIDS. FXB was looking for a volunteer communications intern to work from home. The hours were flexible and it was only 5-12 hours a week. I saw it and said, “That is mine.”
Two days later, I signed some papers and was brought on board. I’m currently working to promote World AIDS Orphans Day, a grassroots campaign to draw attention to and advocate on behalf of the 15+ million children orphaned by AIDS. World AIDS Orphans Day is founded by FXB International and supported by a network of partners. We commemorate this day every year on May 7th.
This year, children in 4-8th are encouraged to enter in the 2010 World AIDS Orphans Day Essay Contest by submitting a letter on the following topic:
Millions of kids around the world have lost their parents to AIDS. Write a letter to Albina du Boisrouvray, founder of World AIDS Orphans Day, explaining what you think should be done to help these kids live better lives.
If you have a little one or know of someone who does, please feel free to pass this along. The winning essay will be posted on the World AIDS Orphans Day website. The author will receive a certificate from Albina du Boisrouvray, international humanitarian and founder of World AIDS Orphans Day, and $200 to be donated in their name to a charity benefiting children. For more information please visit, 2010 World AIDS Orphans Day Essay Contest.
If you have some extra room in your heart and on your blog to share this message with your readers, please let me know. I’d really appreciate your help.
The effect of the earthquake in Haiti has rippled through countless countries & ignited a storm of action from aid agencies, relief organizations, charities and everyday people like you and I who are scrambling to deliver much needed resources to the poorest country in the western hemisphere.
Hands For Haiti is not asking for donations. Hands For Haiti is not asking for clothes. Hands For Haiti is asking the world not to forget that Haiti has been for a long time in dire need of our love and attention. This earthquake has brought Haiti to the front pages but every day prior to this earthquake, the people of Haiti suffer with treatable diseases, struggle with poverty and spend their lives fighting to live.
Hands For Haiti is dedicated to bringing you updates about New York City’s on-going events that aid in the rebuilding of Haiti so that we, as New Yorkers, can contribute what we can. Please visit www.handsforhaiti.us for a short, but growing, list of events that are occurring in the New York City area. These events are aimed at raising aid and resources for the people of Haiti.
If you have an event or know of one, please leave the information below and it will be added to the listing.
My New Year’s Resolution: To be happy & healthy in mind, body & spirit. And travel a crap load more.
I started A Pair of Panties & Boxers as a reminder to myself to never conform to society’s norm in the daily grind of a 9-5. I didn’t want my job to be the reason I stopped seeing beyond four walls and I didn’t want the burden of saving for grad school keep me from seeing the world. I figured the best way to travel as much as I can is to start a travel blog because in order to write about my travels, I’d actually have to go and travel. When I start running out of things to write, that means I need to get on a plane, train, bus, boat or any type of transportation fast – not that I don’t get that urge to just jet every single day. But sometimes, we do what we have to do and not what we want to do.
It hasn’t been a year since I started blogging but I thought I’d still wrap up 2009 featuring my top 10 most popular blog posts of the year. I hope all my readers enjoyed growing this blog with me these past 6 months. Thanks for sticking around.
So without further adieu, here are the top 10 posts for 2009.
The one thing I absolutely loathe about China is the lack of Western toilets. Those hole-in-the-ground-you-have-to-pee-by-squatting apparatuses make me cringe every time. I’m a girl — how am I supposed to pee that way?!
So when my roommates and I decided to trek westward for fall break, towards rural Yunnan and Sichuan, I had to put on a brave face and come to terms with the fact that I’d be using nothing but “squatties.”
Five hours into the bumpy bus ride and two bottles of water later, I was bursting with thoughts of shiny automatic-flush toilets and marble sinks.
Alas, what greeted me at the makeshift rest stop was an outhouse made out of mud and three little children asking for a 50 cents fee for using their “bathroom.”
The travel bug bit somewhere between Wuzhen and Suzhou. We returned from Suzhou Saturday night. But by Sunday morning, JC and I already had our bags packed and a one-way ticket in our hand.
We took the next departing train from Shanghai to Hangzhou. It was an hour and a half of smooth sailing.
The Blue Mosque sits directly across from the Hagia Sophia on the Hippodrome, also known as the Sultanahmet Square. It’s hard to say which is more impressive. They both rival in beauty. With six towering minarets, The Blue Mosque dominates the Istanbul skyline.
I paid ¥20 for a cab ride down to People’s Park (人民公园), ¥10 to see the Gaudi exhibit at the MOCA, ¥40 for lunch at Pizza Hut, ¥50 for a shuttle ride to the Oriental Pearl Tower, another ¥50 for dinner and ¥1o for extraneous expenses. I dropped ¥170 like it was nothing because in my mind that was only $10.
My friend (at the time) JC and I walked along the Huangpu River that night. We saw a boy in ripped rags and torn slippers. He looked about 10 years old. He approached us raising a flower in his hand and said…
“一块，一块。要不要花？”(One dollar, one dollar. Do you want flowers?)
He haggled a little. We politely declined. I turned around and watched him zig-zag his way down the path. He made sure not to miss a single couple. JC and I sat down on the stone-rimmed flowerbed and watched the boy pace back and forth under the moon light.
JC and I walked non-stop these past two days. It was either restless leg syndrome or it was the excitement of being in Madrid. I thought we would take it a little slower on the third day but nope – not when traveling with JC.He only knows one speed – and it’s just go, go, go, go, go!
This was Kaifeng’s welcome to us. Fog? Pollution? Combination? I don’t know but it was one hell of a welcome. I held out my hand and saw nothing. I looked down and I had no feet. We blindly walked forward – away from the train station and closer to the sound of the road. We had a hard time crossing the street. We couldn’t see the cars and bicycles and they couldn’t see us. We played it by ear. Literally. And hailing a cab? I want to say, “Fuggedaboutit,” but we managed to do so. Till this day, it still puzzles me.
I’m a nerd. I like math and I like to plan. Excel is my best friend. I can’t live without my planner. When it comes to traveling, I get excited at the thought of creating a new spreadsheet. Budgeting is my favorite part. How low can I go?
I conquered 7,200 steps to the top of Taishan and trekked 4 hours around the West Lake in Hangzhou. Climbing The Great Wall? Sure! No problem. Except I forgot to factor in the high altitude and nearly freezing temperature. Read more…
Interview with Kate Harris, Operations Director of One Day’s Wages
“If I look at the mass, I will never act. If I look at the one, I will.” – Mother Teresa
Nicholas Kristof, two-time Pulitzer Prize winning columnist for The New York Times, created a documentary about the Congo called “The Reporter.” In it he cited research which reveals that people are more inclined to donate money to a single child than to 20 million people in poverty. Psychology professor Paul Slovic, from the University of Oregon, calls it “psychic numbing” – the tendency to care less about global atrocities when people are bombarded with statistics.
So what does that mean for non-profits? It means that they have to get personal. Donors want visual proof, not just pie charts. Therefore, a growing number of grassroot organizations are utilizing Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and various social media platforms to provide transparency and one-to-one dialog with current and potential donors. Among them is One Day’s Wages, an international grassroot movement dedicated to eliminating extreme global poverty. The idea isn’t too far of a stretched. Jeffrey Sachs, American economist and author of “The End of Poverty,” argues that global povertycan beeliminated by 2025.
The founders of One Day’s Wages, Eugene and Minhee Cho, were inspired after traveling and witnessing first hand the disparity in the world. Their vision for ODW is to inspire others to donate one day of their wages (0.4% of their annual income) to people in need. ODW promotes awareness, invites giving and supports sustainable relief through partnerships; especially with smaller organizations in developing regions. 100% of the donations (minus transactions) go to projects and causes. Donors select the project or organization they want to invest in and ODW will show how these funds are used via reports, photos and videos.
Kate Harris, Operations Director at One Day's Wages
Kate Harris, Operations Director at One Day’s Wages, graciously granted me some of her time for this exclusive interview.
About Kate:
How did your career path lead you to One Day’s Wages?
Prior to coming on staff with ODW, I worked for a Seattle-based non-profit that focuses on sustainable development in Africa and India. There, I trained and managed volunteers who were traveling abroad to work alongside local organizations on a variety of community development projects. For the past few years, I’ve also served as a co-founder and board member for an organization that focuses on community development and education access for children in Southeastern Uganda. Both of these positions, combined with time spent volunteering abroad and studying theory and practice of international development during college rounded out my journey prior to coming on staff here at ODW.
What did you learn about yourself and about the world from your experiences working in East Africa?
The most impactful lesson from my time abroad has been to learn that the West has many lessons to learn from countries that we often see as ‘poor.’ They are incredibly rich in culture, practices of hospitality, joy, faith, and much else. Both developed and developing nations have issues that we need to come together as a global community to address – the most significant, in my opinion, being the overconsumption of many Western countries, and subsequent under-consumption and lack of access to basic resources of developing countries.
There are resources and protections such as clean water, education, healthcare, the right to work in fair conditions, and more – which every citizen of the world deserves, no matter where they happen to be born. As an international community, we agreed that everyone deserved access to those through the Universal Declaration of Human Rights back in 1948. Sadly, we have yet to come close to actually achieving the rights set forth in that declaration.
Can you describe one life changing moment you had while working in third world countries?
I got to know to a beautiful baby boy named Sam during my first trip to Uganda. Sam’s mother had died shortly after his birth from a similar complication – excessive bleeding – that my own mother had when I was born. However, in the U.S., it’s a highly treatable complication, so my mother lived. Sam’s mother didn’t have access to the medical care or medication needed to treat it, and so she died at the age of 18.
Sam was suffering from severe malnutrition when we met, as his extended family didn’t have enough money to buy milk for him. After spending weeks with Sam in the local hospital, some days watching children in his ward being carried to the morgue literally every hour, it finally hit me: that watching children die of diseases such as malnutrition, malaria, HIV/AIDS, and other diseases was a complete normality in this hospital, and for the local community. Sam wasn’t able to recover from the malnutrition, and died at the age of 4 months.
Further than that, if we look at statistics from UNICEF and other aid organizations, we see that Sam’s story is happening all over the world, to somewhere around 25,000 children every day. It’s nothing short of heartbreaking.
About One Day’s Wages:
What distinguishes ODW from other NPOs that raise funds to allocate to various projects?
Amongst a culture that constantly elevates the new and the better, I think one of the most unique things about ODW is that we’re not claiming to be either of those. We’re new as an organization, but there are many other great organizations that have done similar work for decades. We hope to work alongside other NPO’s that are doing great work in the fight against global poverty, learn from them – and hopefully, they from us.
What is the most valuable aspect of the organization?
I think that the most valuable aspect of ODW is the accessibility. It doesn’t matter your income level – everyone can make a significant impact in the fight against global poverty by donating 0.4% of their annual income.
What are some of the obstacles that inhibit fundraising? How has ODW overcome them?
We definitely didn’t originally plan to launch the organization in the midst of a severe economic downturn. I think that has been a huge struggle for all NPO’s right now. An encouragement for me personally is to see the smaller donations – $5, $10, that arrive in our mailbox with notes of well wishes. We hang them up in our office to remind us of the growing community of support that has come in from around the world. We’ll continue to invite folks to join in the fight against poverty in whatever way they’re able.
What are some of the 2010 goals for ODW?
One of our main goals for 2010 is to continue to build our presence as an organization. We’re barely 2 months old, and have been fortunate to receive some great support and media attention thus far. We’re hoping to continue building on that, as well as complete the 3 $25,000 grants that we’re currently raising funds for. We’ll work towards being able to regularly award grants to smaller and lesser-known NGO’s and CBO’s around the world. We’re looking forward to highlighting some great work being done around the world that those in the ODW community may not have heard of before.
About ODW in Social Media:
As more and more NPOs migrant to various social media platforms, how is ODW staying ahead of the curve?
I think it’s important to note that we aren’t looking to compete with anyone. The more NPOs that choose to utilize social media, the better. Increased awareness and support for the important work that non-profits are doing is vital to the entire NPO community. That said, I think ODW is actually relying, in part, on the social media users through the community we’ve already built to help connect us with new and innovative ways to get the word out about how truly simple it can be to get involved in global issues of injustice.
What has ODW implemented on Facebook and Twitter to help raise donations? How successful have they been?
A commonality between FB and Twitter is that we’re utilizing both to share stories. Stories of injustice, stories of hope, stories surrounding issues of extreme global poverty. It’s in sharing those stories through both mediums that donors are able to journey alongside ODW by making a donation, reposting a blog entry, or sharing their own stories of fighting poverty. Success can be difficult to define in the world of social media, but I’d say that we’re seeing increasing website traffic and numbers of donations, which are good indicators that FB and twitter are continuing to grow the community of supporters.
What mistakes and best practices has ODW learned working with social media platforms?
I think a best practice for us has been to simply keep the conversation going. To keep sharing our journey and continually inviting others to join us will be a vital component to the long-term mission of ODW. I think a difficulty in social media usage is that it has a steep learning curve for NPOs who haven’t integrated it into their normal marketing strategies. With that, I think it’s easy to make the mistake of not investing the amount of time and resources into utilizing social media well. We’re still learning.
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For additional information about One Day’s Wages, check out the following:
Videos: ODW Launch Video can be found on both Vimeo and YouTube
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Once a week for five months ten of us, sometimes twelve, were herded into a dark van with tinted windows and ragged carpets. The smallest one of us contorted ourselves into the most uncomfortable positions and driven to the outskirts of Shanghai. The driver dropped us off on the side of the dusty highway and like clockwork, there was always someone waiting there to take us through the dark, narrow alley.
We passed by a middle aged couple who’s brown leather skin was the result of years of toiling in the sun. They baked bread on the side of the highway – salty ones and unsalted ones. Behind them was a dirt road carved between two dug out vegetables fields, which were being tended to by residents in straw hats and hunched backs.
We passed by tattered wood houses battered by the heavy rain and the harsh sun. The women chatted on small wooden stools and gawked as we passed by. Some of them were nursing. They looked tired and lifeless. Dirty toddlers with cracked red cheeks laughed innocently around them, as if they harbored all their mother’s life and energy. The men were no were to be found.
We entered a white two-story building. The children present looked eager, curious and afraid – all at the same time. I was assigned a room on the ground floor. It was a tiny room big enough for only 15 people but overcrowded with 50. My hands were tugged along the way as I squeezed to the front of the room. I introduced myself.
“小朋友，你好。我是黄老师。你的英语老师。”(How are you kids? My name is Miss Wong. I’m your English teacher.)
“黄老师好！”(Good morning Miss Wong!)
They shouted in unison.
This was the QiDi Migrant School. These were migrant children. Their families live like nomads, moving from place to place in search of work. Men leave before the sun rises and return long after the sun sets. The children here know nothing of consistency. The people they know and the friends they make come and go. It’s as fleeting as their education, but their desire to learn is stronger than all the children I’ve ever taught back home.
These migrant children were not only hungry for food. They were hungry to learn. They shouted answers with bright eyes and they fought to come to the board. For them, enough was never enough. They always wanted more. At the end of each class they tugged at my hands and asked,
“黄老师，你会回来吗？”(Miss Wong, will you be back?)
I always said yes and they would gleam with joy but I knew that the more I said yes, the closer I was to saying no. Eventually I had to leave. Just like everyone else in their lives.
Migrant families who live in poverty know that education is the key to economic mobility but their children’s education is hindered when kids are pulled from school to harvest the land and scrounge for scrap metal. My students don’t know it but what they taught me was much more valuable than the English I taught them. Kids in the States say, “I hate school. School sucks. It’s boring.” But many children around the world walk barefoot for miles to attend school. We get driven.
This opportunity I had to teach and travel abroad was all due to the Fudan Foreign Students Volunteering Association. It was the most rewarding experience at Fudan University. The dedicated principal of QiDi Migrant School provided door to door service from Fudan’s Foreign Dormitory to the dilapidated school building in the outskirts of Shanghai. He himself was a former migrant student who saw that education was his way out of a migrant lifestyle. He built the school at QiDi for the children, and for the future, of the migrant community. He’s proof that education is the way out of poverty.
In Shanghai, I wasn’t Chinese. I was dollar bills. And sure enough, I acted like it. Dining at ritzy restaurants, dancing in decadent clubs, partying away pompously. I wasn’t the only one. But that’s no excuse. Those with Euros and dollars fling it like toilet paper. Like paying 100 kuai to get in the door of the hottest clubs tossing bills for drinks as if money really does grow on trees. Because in our minds that’s about $14 USD or 9 Euros. Unlike the man who lives on 10 kuai a day – that’s less than $2 – or the 10-year-old boy hustling to feed his family and the L-shaped granny begging for money. And what about that toddler who rattles his paper cup at you?
There’s the Western influence of fine dining, glamorous nightlife and a flamboyant wallet for the deep pockets. But down the street, it’s a hard hustle at birth for those with no pockets. That’s Shanghai in a nutshell. The haves and the have-nots live in juxtaposition. It’s a dog eat dog world. Pun intended. Shanghai is known as the New York City of the West. But wait – why do we need a cheap imitation when we have the original? Where is the authenticity? First fake goods and now fake cities. Tomorrow fake Chinese?
There’s something about Shanghai that is very nostalgic for me. Perhaps it’s because it was the door for all my China travels. But there is a part of Shanghai that doesn’t sit right with me. It’s the vast divide between the have and the have nots and how easily the Chinese turn a blind eye to their own people. I would assume the vast contrast would shed light to many, but it doesn’t.
I paid ¥20 for a cab ride down to People’s Park (人民公园), ¥10 to see the Gaudi exhibit at the MOCA, ¥40 for lunch at Pizza Hut, ¥50 for a shuttle ride to the Oriental Pearl Tower, another ¥50 for dinner and ¥1o for extraneous expenses. I dropped ¥170 like it was nothing because in my mind that was only $10.
My friend (at the time) JC and I walked along the Huangpu River that night. We saw a boy in ripped rags and torn slippers. He looked about 10 years old. He approached us raising a flower in his hand and said,
“一块，一块。要不要花？”(One dollar, one dollar. Do you want flowers?)
He haggled a little. We politely declined. I turned around and watched him zig-zag his way down the path. He made sure not to miss a single couple. JC and I sat down on the stone-rimmed flowerbed and watched the boy pace back and forth under the moon light.
“一块，一块，” he would say, “一块，一块， 要不要花？”
一块 (yi kuai) was less than 15¢.
He approached us again. This time, we took the time to talk to him. Actually, JC did all the talking. I sat there while the boy told us his story. I don’t remember the details but it’s not the details that matter. It’s the bigger picture. He lived across the river. His family was poor. He sold flowers to make a living. He worked from sun up until his uncle came to get him. But it was already past 10pm. How much longer did he have to work? Then I had an epiphany. That could have been my little brother. That could have been me. It was only by chance I wasn’t born into poverty. That was the bigger picture. It could have been any of us.
Before we left JC slipped ¥50 into the boy’s hand. The boy left and I cried. For whatever reason, I’m still not sure. JC and I made plans to meet up with some friends at Attica. So I put on my happy face, paid the ¥100 cover charge and headed straight to the bar. At that particular moment, I was ashamed of myself for living the way I did. Something in me began to change. I felt it that night.
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