The difficulties of travelling

My sister is worried about me. She says that hearing the way I've been getting angry at people, like with the guy honking at me for crossing the street, makes her worry and wonder how long it is before I get strangle-mugged by one of these people. Well, first of all, let me say that in my experience bad things happen usually in seemingly random ways - like because someone thinks you're gay, or just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time - not for running your mouth at a pushy hotel owner. But my sister is right when she told me that these people don't have to be nice to me, and that they don't owe me anything. In fact, I probably owe them a lot more than they owe me. She also reminded me that as a rich white person in a poor, non-white world, I would obviously be taken advantage of, and she would do the same thing if she were in the shoes of a poor Bolivian. And I have to remember that much of the world's current economic inbalences and injustices are based on historical racism, whether or not I had anything to do with it. And now, I'm suffering from reverse racism, because I am so obviously the one with money, and a symbol of historical injustice. I agree with those things too.

I guess I think that this is one of the real opportunities that come with the Adventure Grant - coming to terms with these issues. Because it's really, really hard to be here and be dealing with these things. Just to remind the reader of some of the difficulties I face: poor language skills - never being able to express myself the way I want, never knowing what I'm ordering to eat, never being able to tell jokes, even having a hard time just making friends; cultural and economic differences which leave me isolated and excluded; regular threat of theft or assault; being so alone - the thought of going ten months without the kiss of a lover or the embrace of a family member, missing ten months of my niece growing up, having no outlet to talk about what's so funny or absurd or hard about being in a totally different culture. I think all the little things that have happened to me have been building up, and now every little thing is starting to appear in my mind as not only a cut at the Rich Western World, but me personally. And it makes me angry. And of course, it's false and it's unhealthy.

Where do you draw the line? That is the question every traveller has to answer for themselves. How much money do you give? Myself and every single other backpacker here has so much more than virtually all of our hosts. Just the fact that you can drop $1000 on a plane ticket is evidence that you are rich beyond the dreams of most of these people. The girls I have been hanging out with, who are in private schools and seem like middle or upper-middle class, have never even been to La Paz. What is it like for them to think of my globetrotting? Or to project onto me media images of Western life and affluence? But this is the problem: I can't solve poverty, and I shouldn't think of it as my problem to solve. Like I said, every traveller has to make a decision about how to rationalize their wealth in a world of poverty. Most people rationalize it in their favor: they're not really that poor, they're scammers, giving undermines work, etc. Some of this has some merit: I think the argument that work provides self-worth is true (the problem being that in our country, the idea of jobs that provide "self-worth" and get people off Welfare are jobs that pay $5.15 an hour washing dishes at a TGI Friday's while the corporate owners get $40 million Christmas bonuses) - in fact, one reason I never give money to kids is because I was told in Cusco that beggar children make more money than adult laborers. This makes the parents feel unvalued, and they turn to begging; it destroys family structures and causes a slew of social problems, like depression and alcoholism. And I don't think that these attitudes arise because travellers are cheap, per se (although definately some of them are). Instead, I think these attitudes arise from a confrontational mindset of being besieged for you money every hour of every day: tour operators, taxi drivers, locals you meet in a bar, beggars, theives. The attitude becomes "No way I'm going to be taken advantage of!" And if people think that beggars are trying to take advantage of them in some way, they don't give. But when I think about it, that siege mentality is not the one I want to have when I travel. It cuts you off from experiencing anything profound.

And I think it is appropriate, socially and morally, to give. The rules I have for myself are pretty simple: I always give if I have some change, and don't give to children (not only because of undermining adult jobs, but because kids should be in school getting an education - the only way to break the cycle of poverty. If families think their kids can make more than the adults begging, do you think the kids will stay in school?). The way I think about it is that if even just the backpackers all contributed a small amount, then there would be plenty to go around. I guess I think I need to make my contribution, but I shouldn't feel like I have to make a contribution for everyone. So that's my rationalization: sure, I'm rich, but I'm doing my part. I don't know if it's the best answer, or even if there is a "best" answer to the problem. But it's my answer for myself.

It feels good to give, too. I think that giving cultivates compassion within me, which in turn makes it a little easier to deal with situations where someone isn't being so compassionate. One part of me chides myself for this, because it's a feeling that is born out of such a gross inequality of wealth, but the flip side is that I do nothing, and I am sure that something is preferable to nothing, for me and for the other party.


The money line gets even stickier once you're out with people in a social setting. For example, when I was out the other night, this one guy was trying to get me to pay for everything, to give grossly outrageous amounts for a "taxi," etc. And in fact, I was rushing to buy all the drinks for the group, I bought this guy some food, and paid for the "taxi." But at what point are you being generous and at what point are you just rubbing in their faces that you're rich compared to them? And at what point are you being generous and at what point are you being taken advantage of? An interesting dichotomy I've noticed here is that Bolivian men are always trying to get one more Boliviano out of me, and Bolivian women are loathe to let me pay for anything. Maybe the men are wondering what they get out of haning out with the exotic, rich foreigner who is so impressive to the girls? Maybe the women don't want to feel like there are strings attached to the gifts? I don't really know, but as I said, drawing a line with money is very, very difficult.

And money isn't the only line to draw: when you are taken advantage of or treated shabbily, when do you turn the other cheek and when do you stick up for yourself? There have definately been times, like when I was given the run-around by the kid at the hotel about my room key, that I felt like I had to "teach" someone that they can't treat me that way. But I don't want to feel like I'm in a war, even though sometimes that's not far from the truth. What am I really suffering? Not so much. And what am I really taking away when I withhold my money over what I perceive as an offense? Maybe quite a bit. In the end, I think what I have forgotten is that I won't really be able to change things here, not much anyways. But I can have a huge influence over myself. A huge influence over whether or not I'm placid or angry; happy or depressed. And I remember, too, the words of Gandhi in Satyagraha, about spreading your message with love, and being the change you want to see in the world. In the end, my anger probably won't change anything, except in me. I guess the trick is to stick up for yourself, but do it in a way where you want to help make the situation better, not punish the other person. Easier said than done though.

And I think these things, money and attitudes, are intimately connected. It's hard to say how much of the attitude I get is because I'm a foreigner (like getting hit with a small bag of trash by some punks the other night), and how much is just Bolivian worldview. In the case of the former, I should really be looking at these things as lessons and reminders of the abundence I get to experience in America. I was thinking about trying to buy soap the other day, and how I went to like 50 stores looking for it. But then yesterday I thought about how you can go to an aisle in any supermarket in America, and just that one aisle is bigger than any supermarket here (let alone the tiny shops that are the norm), and half the aisle will be dedicated to pickles. I mean, how absurd is that? It's about as absurd as spending an hour trying to buy soap, but just in a much more affluent way. And I'm sure when I get back, all of that stuff will become so apparent. But for now, unfortunately, I have to struggle with so much in day-to-day living that those lessons are easy to miss.

I guess in the end, I need to try and be more understanding, even though it's really hard. I need to remember that in most ways, looking at anyone on the street here is like looking in a mirror: that pretty much anyone I see is someone that has hopes, dreams, and fears not unlike mine. And that if the tables were turned, I might begrudge wealthy Bolivians who swarm throgh my country, with the ability to buy whatever they want, who seem to be armed with the assured attitude that it's OK that the people in the country they visit work all day for basically nothing. That is, after all, one of the reasons I was given the money to come here. I need to remember that.