This is a photo of some of the dishes.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
ATM Cards
I have always been amused when I heard about people who left their cards in the ATM. I feel sorry for them, but I also think it is silly to leave such an important thing in a public place. They should have paid more attention to what they are doing. Me, I’m always very careful about my ATM card.
One afternoon I went to an ATM on George Street, near Woolworths Supermarket. I had been waiting for my payment for weeks. I was getting a bit anxious. I wanted to know if the money was finally in or not. I inserted my card and chose account balance. Dang! It’s not there yet. I wondered why they hadn’t sent the money. I took the receipt and walked away. About 30 meters down the road I got the feeling that I had forgotten something. I checked my wallet. My card wasn’t there. I left it in the machine!!! My heart dropped to my feet. There goes what little money I had left, I thought. There was still hope. Maybe the card was still there. I turned around. I wanted to run back to the ATM.
“Is this yours?” A stocky, bald man in shorts and sunnies stopped me on my tracks. My card! I gasped with relief. I thanked the kind stranger. He nodded. I couldn’t see his eyes but the look on his face clearly said, “You should've paid more attention to what you are doing. It’s very silly to leave such an important thing in a public place.”
I checked the balance again on my way home, and my savings was intact. Somebody had bothered to chase me down the street to give me back my card. I was really touched. It’s good to know that there still are some good people out there.
One afternoon I went to an ATM on George Street, near Woolworths Supermarket. I had been waiting for my payment for weeks. I was getting a bit anxious. I wanted to know if the money was finally in or not. I inserted my card and chose account balance. Dang! It’s not there yet. I wondered why they hadn’t sent the money. I took the receipt and walked away. About 30 meters down the road I got the feeling that I had forgotten something. I checked my wallet. My card wasn’t there. I left it in the machine!!! My heart dropped to my feet. There goes what little money I had left, I thought. There was still hope. Maybe the card was still there. I turned around. I wanted to run back to the ATM.
“Is this yours?” A stocky, bald man in shorts and sunnies stopped me on my tracks. My card! I gasped with relief. I thanked the kind stranger. He nodded. I couldn’t see his eyes but the look on his face clearly said, “You should've paid more attention to what you are doing. It’s very silly to leave such an important thing in a public place.”
I checked the balance again on my way home, and my savings was intact. Somebody had bothered to chase me down the street to give me back my card. I was really touched. It’s good to know that there still are some good people out there.
Hatred
One afternoon I was walking from Town Hall towards my school. The city was full of people, as usual. Office workers in suits, tourists, students, all in different colors and languages flock the sidewalks. It was mid April. It was clear and sunny but the wind had a cold edge in it. Winter was coming. I took a mental note of the homeless people in the street. As winter drew closer, more and more of them would gather near Town Hall and Woolies Supermarket. Most of them were peaceful but some had really nasty looks in their faces. Some were plain crazy. I had several unpleasant encounters last year.
One of them approached drunkenly and asked me, “Ish thish Noo Yorkh? No??” Another time a different guy glared at me and asked for money, in broad day light. I was with a friend so I just shook my head, said sorry, and walked away.
Most of these guys are painfully bitter. They’ve had some really bad experience and have given up on life. The government supports them with money. Eight hundred dollars per month, as long as they don’t have a job. So they don’t. Eight hundred per month is barely enough to live on. Hardship changes people and turns them hostile. One time when I was walking with a friend a bearded guy shouted, “WHY DON’T YOU GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM!!!!” My friend was Asian too. He was deeply offended, and they had a shouting match with the guy for a few minutes.
After all these experiences, I am quite wary of homeless people. I stay away from them. So with the warning alarm buzzing at the back of my mind, I continued walking. The conscious part of my brain was thinking about the terrible news on TV that morning. A university student in Virginia went on a rampage on campus and shot students and lecturers in the classroom. Then he shot himself. Over thirty people died. He was Asian. The word Asian was repeated over and over again in the news. My head was buzzing with questions. Why did he do it? Had people been very mean to him? Why didn’t anybody try to stop him? Or did they try and failed? Why was the word Asian mentioned over and over again? They didn’t say Caucasian over and over again when a criminal was white, did they??
I was coming near a traffic light. There was a guy in black shirt and pants. He didn’t look homeless, but I could smell the unmistakable smell the unwashed. He flicked something with his finger as I approached. It landed on my hand. I looked down. It was spit. I turned to look at his face. “Filth..,” he breathed unemotionally and walked away.
I took out my water bottle and rinsed the spit off. I didn’t dry my hand. I couldn’t bare the thought of wiping my hand and getting traces of the spit elsewhere. I walked on. When I got to school I washed my hands thoroughly with soap, several times. I still felt dirty. The feeling stayed with me throughout class and afterwards when I went to work. Sometimes I imagined the smell of spit lingering around me. I got home in the evening and washed my hands with medicated soap, and then put all the clothes that I wore that day, including the jacket, in the washing machine. At last I felt clean again.
So what did I do right after I saw the spit on my hand? I looked him in the face, scowled as fierce as I could and hissed, “Fuck you...” then turned away.
Not as satisfying as using my handbag to club him on the head repeatedly. Or spitting back. (A spitting contest might follow and I’d lose, for sure). A few years ago I would have just walked away, pretending nothing had happened and that I wasn’t hurt. I thought to myself “Not bad, for a person who had never cursed at anyone before.”
Well Mr Spit, whoever and wherever you are, I don’t know which aspect of my person you hate so much. Be it my colour, my face, the way I walk, the way I dress, or God knows what. I don’t know what tragedy had befallen you to make you so hateful of me and ‘my kind’. I just hope that life would be kinder to you, so that you will change your mind and be a happier person.
One of them approached drunkenly and asked me, “Ish thish Noo Yorkh? No??” Another time a different guy glared at me and asked for money, in broad day light. I was with a friend so I just shook my head, said sorry, and walked away.
Most of these guys are painfully bitter. They’ve had some really bad experience and have given up on life. The government supports them with money. Eight hundred dollars per month, as long as they don’t have a job. So they don’t. Eight hundred per month is barely enough to live on. Hardship changes people and turns them hostile. One time when I was walking with a friend a bearded guy shouted, “WHY DON’T YOU GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM!!!!” My friend was Asian too. He was deeply offended, and they had a shouting match with the guy for a few minutes.
After all these experiences, I am quite wary of homeless people. I stay away from them. So with the warning alarm buzzing at the back of my mind, I continued walking. The conscious part of my brain was thinking about the terrible news on TV that morning. A university student in Virginia went on a rampage on campus and shot students and lecturers in the classroom. Then he shot himself. Over thirty people died. He was Asian. The word Asian was repeated over and over again in the news. My head was buzzing with questions. Why did he do it? Had people been very mean to him? Why didn’t anybody try to stop him? Or did they try and failed? Why was the word Asian mentioned over and over again? They didn’t say Caucasian over and over again when a criminal was white, did they??
I was coming near a traffic light. There was a guy in black shirt and pants. He didn’t look homeless, but I could smell the unmistakable smell the unwashed. He flicked something with his finger as I approached. It landed on my hand. I looked down. It was spit. I turned to look at his face. “Filth..,” he breathed unemotionally and walked away.
I took out my water bottle and rinsed the spit off. I didn’t dry my hand. I couldn’t bare the thought of wiping my hand and getting traces of the spit elsewhere. I walked on. When I got to school I washed my hands thoroughly with soap, several times. I still felt dirty. The feeling stayed with me throughout class and afterwards when I went to work. Sometimes I imagined the smell of spit lingering around me. I got home in the evening and washed my hands with medicated soap, and then put all the clothes that I wore that day, including the jacket, in the washing machine. At last I felt clean again.
So what did I do right after I saw the spit on my hand? I looked him in the face, scowled as fierce as I could and hissed, “Fuck you...” then turned away.
Not as satisfying as using my handbag to club him on the head repeatedly. Or spitting back. (A spitting contest might follow and I’d lose, for sure). A few years ago I would have just walked away, pretending nothing had happened and that I wasn’t hurt. I thought to myself “Not bad, for a person who had never cursed at anyone before.”
Well Mr Spit, whoever and wherever you are, I don’t know which aspect of my person you hate so much. Be it my colour, my face, the way I walk, the way I dress, or God knows what. I don’t know what tragedy had befallen you to make you so hateful of me and ‘my kind’. I just hope that life would be kinder to you, so that you will change your mind and be a happier person.
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