US, US, baby

I was in downtown Johannesburg (granted not the “safest” place in South Africa) this afternoon and looking around for the shared taxi I needed to get back to the town I’m staying in. I thought I knew where I was going, but apparently not.

And, well, I knew I stuck out there (this was my second time through the area today and I’d only seen two non-black folk…and one actually turned out to be an albino black man) but didn’t think too much of it.

Until, waiting to cross the street, I heard someone yell, “Hey, you!” from behind me and grab my left arm. OK, I’m used to verbal harassment, but people here really don’t touch strangers…so before I even looked, I knew this guy was trouble.

“Give me your mobile, or I’ll take your bag.”

“I don’t have a mobile.”

“Don’t make me take that bag of yours. Just give me your mobile and you can keep the bag.”

“Really, I don’t have one.”

“Just give me your phone. I know you have one.”

“Really. I don’t have a phone on me. I’m not from this country. Why would I have a mobile?”

“Don’t make me take your bag. Just give me…”

And I stepped onto the street and opened the door of a shared taxi waiting to make a turn. I had no idea where it was going, but clearly that was OK at the time. It was a good choice…the driver (and two fellow passengers) helped me find what I needed and didn’t even charge me anything.

As I sat in the proper taxi, I couldn’t help but think how ridiculous of me it was to not feel scared during the run-in in the city. I mean, I was practically (and may have actually been, knowing me) laughing at the guy and his friend who’d tried to corner me in. But seriously. I didn’t have a phone. And I had only about 20 rand (less than $3) on me. I felt little danger without a weapon shoved in my back. But then I remembered the South African man whose friend’s friend was just killed when he was hit over the head for not having money when he was held up. Yeah…the thought-ridden ride home more disturbing than the actual (failed) mugging.

Yet…I’m OK. All’s well. I’m back “home” safe and sound. And blogging about the past.

With the cash reserves on the low-end after the pick-pocketing, I’ve been a bit more choosy as to which sites I see in India. With the two-tier price system — one for Indians and one for foreigners — there are some I just can’t really bring myself to pay to see. I mean, why would I pay the same price as the entrance fee to the Grand Canyon for something definitely not as cool as the Grand Canyon or that I’d never heard of? Interestingly, I’m not the only one. The American girl I met in Delhi and hung out with in Jaipur (small world that we wound up in the same guesthouse!) and I only saw about half of Jaipur’s sites because the prices were a bit too much for something too little.

So, although I’d previously quietly payed the foreigners’ price, I have to admit I’m getting a bit more annoyed by it. I mean, before I told myself that the publicly owned sites were (theoretically) payed for by taxpayers’ money, so charging non-tax-payers a different price is excusable.

Now, though, I’m not so sure. I mean, a small difference would be OK. But more than 15 times the Indian price? No thanks. And the worst is when I get the SAME exact service as the Indian tourists and then the guide (which was mandatory and included in the ticket I payed five times the amount for) ends the tour and still asks for a tip because I’m American. Uh, no thanks, champ.

Then, in Bikaner, I met a Spanish couple who refused to visit any of the sites that charged two separate prices. “We miss out on a lot,” the woman says, adding that there are plenty of Indians that make more than she. They’re happier that they stick to their morals.

That got me thinking…how do you all feel about the foreigners’ prices? Clearly, this would never fly in America, but what about when you’re traveling? Fair or not??? Hmmm…

You know what I hate? The feeling that when people hear “American” they automatically try to cheat you. It’s so flippin’ frustrating.

I have to say, I’ve rarely had that feeling on this trip, but definitely am feelin’ it today. Seriously, people, Americans don’t get money from a magic money tree. And when we aren’t making American money, we definitely feel the cash crunch when traveling. Yes, I traveled half-way across the world to get here…but in all honesty, from my experience in India, what I made back in the states isn’t that much more than what you, a middle-class person, here would make. You own a house. Perhaps it’s a soul-less shack. But that’s more than me. I couldn’t afford to buy a house in Compton.

But as far as me buying an expensive ticket to get here…the key difference is that I worked my arse off to come to your country. I saved for the trip. I saved up to see more of the world. I saved up to take time to volunteer. I saved up to be able to live OK while I was on the road. I did not save up to pay you for a service that I wouldn’t have paid the same price for back in Manhattan Beach. Most importantly, though, I made the money by working for it, not duping others out of it.

Honestly, not to be over-dramatic or anything, but it’s days like this when I lose my faith in humanity.

*On another note…postings have been sparse because of more travel going on. Will have more on that to come. Lots to say. But just felt like venting right now. Lucky you, huh? Seriously, though…thanks for listening/reading, my dear readers.

Shocking. That’s what the Aussie prices are for two things:

1. books; Holy cow…I should have stocked up on readings before I left Thailand! To give you an idea…Barack Obama’s Dreams from my Father is about $35 AUD/$30 USD in paperback (for you non-American readers, the same book costs $10.17 USD in the US on Amazon.com). Hardcover editions of many books (American, British, or Australian) here can be in the $40-60 range.

2. makeup; The Aussie girls I hung out with this weekend were making their makeup shopping lists for a friend going to the US, where most of the country’s makeup is imported from. Why? I found out when I went to buy some mascara yesterday. $18 AUD/$15 USD for Maybeline mascara. Are you kidding me? (Definitely staying away from the MAC store here!)

Why am I telling you all this? Well, basically, because I want you Yanks to know that if you ever come visit Oz, to stock up on the above before getting here…and to say that if I run into you over the next few months and I’m an illiterate, ugly beast, you’ll know why.

Returning to my land of study abroad, I can’t help but be SO glad I did it. In fact, I’d say my decision to study abroad is my second-best choice I’ve made in life.

Why don’t more Americans do it? Don’t know…but I do know plenty of 20-somethings who regret not doing it.

So if you know any young Yanks contemplating it, I’ve come up with a great list to convince them to go:

1. Making out with non-Americans. Remember in Love, Actually when Collin wants to go to the US because he thinks he’s “got a cute British accent”? Well, yeah, he does. And, yeah, you’ll have a cute American one too. Even in countries where they hate American politicians, there’s always going to be quite a few who’ll swoon over an American accent/face/fashion sense. And even if you hate dating, well, it’ll still probably happen.

2. A friend’s a friend forever…and wherever they live, you can visit. Visit your new international friends wherever they head back to — from upstate New York to Sydney (see photo below) to the Maldive Islands…

3. “Yes, I’m American.” Good, bad, hilarious…you’ll see how others see us. College students in any country aren’t known for being the most shy bunch. You may be asked how many times you’ve been sued, how many guns your family owns, or how many celebrities you’ve met in your life…all things related to, of course, how they see us.

4. It’s all fun and games. Playing sports, especially American-invented ones, abroad brings a whole new appreciation for international sports competitions. Note to self: on international basketball courts, the lanes are trapezoids…

5. Parlez-vous francais? Instead of your only memory of French being that learning it made you wake up every day at 7 a.m. for three semesters, studying abroad can give you the chance to be fluent in it. And besides that…Americans really need to learn more languages. Really.

6. Money, money, money. Traveling on a student budget seems like a deal sure to break the bank, right? Well, maybe not. Non-need based financial aid can mean a profit if the school you attend has a lower tuition and lower cost of living. When I studied abroad, I took three week-long trips to see both of Australia’s coasts and a trip to Bali (see photo above); even with those trips and my international flight, I spent the same amount I would’ve just going to classes and living in Missouri for that semester. Of course, the exchange rate is not-so great here anymore, but there are still other places where it’s not so bad. Wherever you choose, though, even if it’s uber-expensive London, it will be cheaper to live there as a student than it will be to vacation there as an adult.

7. Let’s broaden our minds. Even if you go to a 25,000+ university, there’s classes there you can’t take. Australian Literature and Film? Definitely not offered at University of Missouri. Offered at Edith Cowan University in Perth, Australia? Yep. And world history in another country? Definitely not the same world history you’ll get back home.

8. Drinking! Not only can you legally drink in most countries before 21, but you’ll come back with: 1) new drinking games 2) new and different drinks you like and/or 3) new words for drinking…all which are great things to pull out back at college bars/parties in the states. (Or if you’re the goody-two-shoes like I was, only 2 will apply to you because you only had one drink over the whole six months…)

9. All the cool kids are doing it.

I think the weirdest thing about Cambodia was the country’s use of US dollars. It’s not just that you could use them there, but it was really the preferred way to pay. Everything, from convenience-store snacks to mall clothes to park entrance fees was written in US dollars.

And it wasn’t just for the tourists, either…even in the not-for-tourist places (like the salon I got my hair done at…$20 for a perm and hair cut), all the prices were posted in dollars. I think the only place that didn’t request dollars was the open-air food market I went to. They told me the price in riel but didn’t care if I paid in riel or dollars.

As someone who never carried cash while in the US (why bother when you can pay by everything with your debit card?), my time in Cambodia was probably the most dollars I’d had on me in over a few years. Crazy!

But the best part of it all was that because everything is marked in US dollars, the exchange rate is pretty much nil, which is good news when our dollar ain’t doin’ so hot.

1. Sweet Potato Pie and I…

Whoops! Wrong South!

But even though there’s no Mason-Dixon line here, there is the Ben Hai River that separated the North and South back in the day. And like you’ve known you’ve crossed into the previously separated South in the US, you definitely know you’ve crossed into the old South here, as well. How?

1. There’s a bit of Southern hospitality. At first, you’ll probably think it is just the whole being an American in Hanoi thing…but no, people just get friendlier the further South you go. Two Austrian students on today’s train confirmed it’s not just your imagination. They are nicer the closer to the equator you are here.

2. There are definitely more churches and temples.

3. Shopkeepers talk about their family in the US when you tell them where you’re from.

4. Other shopkeepers talk about how great the American doctors are who have come here to volunteer and help the locals.

5. You can visit a friend’s grandma’s house, a house that was renovated by your friend’s mom’s American GI fiancee back in the day.

6. You see “U.S.Army” stickers not just stuck up amongst other stickers representing forces here in the war but as the lone stickers (save one of the 101 Dalmatians dogs) in tourist vehicles.

7. Old Jeeps used as shuttles have been repainted with USMC to remind riders of where they came from.

When I was getting a massage in Luang Prabang this morning, I closed my eyes and felt pretty close to home. The in-house stereo had lots of all-too familiar music; lulling me through the massage were (decent) Thai remakes of Shania Twain, The Archies, Elton John, and John Denver. And with my eyes shut, it was easy to forget where I was. That was until I opened my eyes and went to pay. The hour-long massage was $3, half the price of those in Chiang Mai.

With about 300 steps to the top, Doi Suthep’s Wat Phrathat is apparently the must-do thing in Chiang Mai. Not only is it a big, beautiful Buddhist temple, but it also boasts some of the best views of the city.

Riding up to the base of the steps on a minibus, I got to know a Thai girl who was visiting Chiang Mai for work. Talking with her about where I was staying and how much I’d paid for my room and other things around Chiang Mai, I realized that I am way too paranoid about being taken advantage of or being seen as a moneybags tourist. The prices she was told or was paying was sometimes more or the same as I’d been paying. Then I felt like a poophead and realized I’d probably been seen as a cheapskate or cheating tourist. I’m pretty sure that’s worse.

I think when I go back to Wat Phrathat I should ask one of the monks how they feel about money, profits, and bargaining.

Traveling, I am acutely aware of the US dollar’s strength. I often check the local exchange rates now, so I can see just how far my savings will take me. With my international plane tickets already paid for, my biggest cut into that savings is me sleeping. And as the Chinese yuan climbs in strength to our dollar, I’m often doing the mental math of just how much that gain will affect me once I get to said place and have to pay for the room.

As I started this journey, I had a couple of requirements for where I’d lay my weary head. I’m a pretty low-maintenance gal, so all I said I needed was: 1) my own room and 2) a good internet connection in my room or one that was easily accessible in the lobby. I thought my best bet would be staying in single rooms at hostels.

And for the last week in Beijing, I stayed at a quaint hostel that had a great front-desk staff, daily free breakfasts, and an unfaltering wireless network. I also slept on a twin bed and shared a bathroom with I don’t know how many others. And that’s OK. I’ve “bathed” with wet wipes and used an outhouse for God’s sake (which it actually was…I was helping build a non-denominational church camp for inner city kids from Chihuahua, Mexico). But that was a few years ago. And I had reason to do it; I had no choice. But a few days ago when I booked the rest of my trip in China, I realized that I actually DO have a choice. So, as I reserved my rooms, I added one more thing to my list of “musts” for places I’ll stay: 3) must have own toilet/shower in room.

Checking into my new room, I’m ecstatic. I’m probably the only Westerner in the whole hotel (which I enjoy, because I know it will force me to learn a bit more Chinese), but I have a Western-style toilet, a shower stall, and a closet. Who knew this would make me so happy? And even with today’s unfavorable exchange rate, it should only be about $9 USD more a night. Definitely worth it, my dears. And here’s to hoping our dollar gains in strength!