It now sits on my desk ... to provoke thought.
I suspect it's true for most of us - folks from the US traveling in Europe: Euro coinage is a mildly unwelcomed irritant readily used as tips when at all possible. At least that's how it was for me a few weeks ago as my wife and I vacationed in Greece and Italy.
Towards the end of out trip (billed as a Greek Island Cruise) we found ourselves walking up a narrow access street to get to the heart of the old city of Sorrento. There wasn't a great deal to see on that first block except a beggar woman with child sitting on the right side of the road.
I'm never entirely sure how I want to handle these sitiations. Frankly, while I tend to be fairly generous when it comes to giving tzedakah (charity), I typically do so by donating to organizations that I trust and appreciate. But I've given to beggars in the past, she had a young child asleep in her arms, and I had a handful of those unwanted Euro coins in my pocket. So I reached for the coins.
My task got more difficult as I got closer. She was hard to look at. Much of her nose was gone as if surgically removed. It looked almost swine-like. She seemed young; her sleeping child was perhaps two years old. She maintained this slow swaying motion, alternately looking up miserably with her hand out and then, as if realizing how she appeared, bowing her head and bring her hand back to cover her nose and face - all this while rocking the child.
I approached her, smiled, gave her the money and then walked on, all while trying not to look at her too long or too directly. She said something like "a million thanks ... God bless you" in Italian. I'm not really sure. I speak no Italian.
Sorrento was beautiful. The day was pristine and we ate outside. The food was good and our waitress was young, attentive, and very pleasant. And I kept picturing the young woman without a nose.
To get back to our tour bus we pretty much had to retrace our steps, i.e., back past the beggar woman. I asked my wife to give me all her change and repeated the whole process that had taken place earlier.
As we walked on and later drove away, I found myself feeling somewhat ashamed that I had not said more to the woman, that I had not conveyed more sympathy, and that I had limited myself to those disposable Euro coins. I had just spent about 20 Euros on a bottle of wine. I could have easily given this woman 20 Euros as well. 20 Euros ...
Most travelers convert their foreign currency at the end of their vacation. When we arrived the airport, and after purchasing the requisite snacks and stuff, I found myself left with a single 20 Euro bill. Looking at it, I thought about the young woman without a nose. It now sits on my desk ... to provoke thought. It might be one of the more valuable things I brought back from the trip.
I suspect it's true for most of us - folks from the US traveling in Europe: Euro coinage is a mildly unwelcomed irritant readily used as tips when at all possible. At least that's how it was for me a few weeks ago as my wife and I vacationed in Greece and Italy.
Towards the end of out trip (billed as a Greek Island Cruise) we found ourselves walking up a narrow access street to get to the heart of the old city of Sorrento. There wasn't a great deal to see on that first block except a beggar woman with child sitting on the right side of the road.
I'm never entirely sure how I want to handle these sitiations. Frankly, while I tend to be fairly generous when it comes to giving tzedakah (charity), I typically do so by donating to organizations that I trust and appreciate. But I've given to beggars in the past, she had a young child asleep in her arms, and I had a handful of those unwanted Euro coins in my pocket. So I reached for the coins.
My task got more difficult as I got closer. She was hard to look at. Much of her nose was gone as if surgically removed. It looked almost swine-like. She seemed young; her sleeping child was perhaps two years old. She maintained this slow swaying motion, alternately looking up miserably with her hand out and then, as if realizing how she appeared, bowing her head and bring her hand back to cover her nose and face - all this while rocking the child.
I approached her, smiled, gave her the money and then walked on, all while trying not to look at her too long or too directly. She said something like "a million thanks ... God bless you" in Italian. I'm not really sure. I speak no Italian.
Sorrento was beautiful. The day was pristine and we ate outside. The food was good and our waitress was young, attentive, and very pleasant. And I kept picturing the young woman without a nose.
To get back to our tour bus we pretty much had to retrace our steps, i.e., back past the beggar woman. I asked my wife to give me all her change and repeated the whole process that had taken place earlier.
As we walked on and later drove away, I found myself feeling somewhat ashamed that I had not said more to the woman, that I had not conveyed more sympathy, and that I had limited myself to those disposable Euro coins. I had just spent about 20 Euros on a bottle of wine. I could have easily given this woman 20 Euros as well. 20 Euros ...
Most travelers convert their foreign currency at the end of their vacation. When we arrived the airport, and after purchasing the requisite snacks and stuff, I found myself left with a single 20 Euro bill. Looking at it, I thought about the young woman without a nose. It now sits on my desk ... to provoke thought. It might be one of the more valuable things I brought back from the trip.
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