New Form of Prostitution

Ever since I moved into my new place two and a half months ago, I have had two roommates. They are both international students. The first one is from Japan and the current one is from the Caribbean. These girls like to bring men back to the house late at night. Sometimes these men left in the morning and sometimes before dawn. My ex-roommate would get calls in the evenings and return home in the early hours of the morning. She usually came home with bags of new clothes and food when she came back in the afternoons. I thought nothing of her ability to afford all these merchandise at first. Then one night, I overheard a phone conversation in Japanese. "Okay, I will see you in half an hour at the usual place. But I would not accept anything less than 300."

My current roommate only moved in ten days ago. Already her "boyfriend" stayed overnight in her room three times. When he left at 5:20 am this morning, he said to her, "I am coming back tonight. When are you getting off work from the restaurant tonight?" I was awake because I had gone to the bathroom just moments before I heard the conversation in the hallway. This Caribbean student has been telling me that she needs money because her parents are not supporting her financially and she has taken out a student loan. She had to work full-time and study part-time.

Many years ago when I lived in Toronto and shared a house with six other U of T students, international students were not allowed to work in Canada. Most of my roommates came from different parts of the world. Some would take up cash jobs at a fraction of the legal minimum wages. They worked long hours and seldom bought any luxury goods. One of my roommates often came home with scraps from the restaurant that she worked in as a dishwasher. Amazingly enough, she saved a fair sum of money to take home to Pakistan when she completed her masters degree program.

When I was travelling in Australia in 2013, I stayed in hostels mainly. I met many young ladies from developed countries and they were on working holiday visas. They would sleep with a different man every night in the hope of meeting an Australian guy who would marry them, and they could stay in Australia permanently. This is also common in urban centres in Canada. While working as a property manager, I received many applications from inter-racial, newly-wed or common-law couples. I sometimes wondered how these couples could be hooked up other than the pubs. Then I saw online ads similar to the one below:

Are you a Student - m4w (surrey area) 

e this posting

body : fit status : single

Are you a student who deserves better? If I am right than you should message me and see if we could have some chemistry. I am a single man who is loyal, supportive and non-judgmental. If this interests you and you want a better life or environment we should chat and see if it goes anywhere. Thank you.

The unofficial job boards are constantly flooded with ads for 19-25 female international students for modelling positions. It is evident that the Police Department has made similar observations and is allocating some of their resources in this area. An article in the April 23, 2015 edition of National Post stated that:

...Vancouver police Const. Brian Montague said that police have not received reports of the alleged WeChat sex scam, which appears to be criminal extortion.

Scams like this are probably under-reported, Montague said, because men are embarrassed by being duped or fear telling police that they were involved in a potential crime of soliciting prostitutes.

“These types of scams are only limited by people’s imagination,” Montague said. “It’s just a question of a different medium — in this case instead of Craigslist they are using WeChat. It’s important for people to know in any situation that whenever they contact or agree to meet someone online, you don’t really know who it is.”

Canada might have changed our immigration policies to counteract the trend of our rapidly aging population resulting in the shrinking labour force. The government has improved its revenues and generated jobs in several industries by proactively accepting a large number of international student each year. However, I wonder if there are measures at the federal level to mitigate social problems created by admitting the progressively increasing numbers of international students and young tourists on working holiday visa into Canada.

My Spiritual Transformations in Mozambique

Last year around Christmas time I was traveling in Central Mozambique in a northbound direction, attempting to reach Mozambique Island before the holidays. I was visiting a small port city called Quelimane when something unimaginable happened. My bag containing all my ID's, credit and debit cards, cash, cell phone, netbook computer and camera was snatched from my side in the early morning hours of December 21, 2015 at a bus stop outside the city market. I was penniless and had no ID for two weeks in a Portuguese-speaking country in Africa.

Prior to the robbery, my journey through Mozambique was not much different from my other trips through developing countries with poorly maintained roads. I was staying in run-down hotels and travelling in crowded buses that were considered to be luxurious by locals. Moreover, I was still pretty much in control of my travel options.  For the lack of a better way to describe my experience in those two weeks subsequent to the incident, I would say that I went through dramatic spiritual transformations. My outlook on life took a 180 degree turn. After that, it was not so important that I was in control of my own destiny.  

For the first three nights, I slept on the floor of the Immigration Office. The staff would chip in to buy me one meal a day. The water for my bucket shower came from a well in the courtyard. The office phone couldn't dial outside the country. There were only two desktop computers in the whole department. Most of my days was spent under a huge mango tree. Sometimes official business was also conducted under the tree. The officers would be writing on a pad of forms with carbon paper in between the pages. Occasionally a mango or two would drop to the ground. Sometimes the grounds keeper would hook some mangoes down for me. I always got to sit on the best chair. 

On Christmas eve morning, I faxed the High Commissioner of Canada in Maputo after leaving a couple of messages on their general voice mailbox and getting no response the previous day. The Immigration Office was closing at noon that day. The lady in charge of my case called a wealthy local businesswoman who sent her driver and secretary to pick me up from the Immigration Office. They checked me into a small hotel, and I stayed there for four days. I continued to eat just one meal a day. I spoke to no one. For some reason, I did not feel hungry or sad. 

During Christmas, all the shops were all closed for a few days, and the streets were quiet. Even if I was hungry and had money, I would not be able to buy food. I was just worried that the thieves would clear out my bank accounts with the debit and credit cards in my bag. I suppose when I involuntarily fasted and constantly pondered about the meaning of life with no distraction for hours on end, I finally realized that God would provide. All I had to do was to surrender, and allow Him to be in charge.

Angels came in all forms, shapes and sizes. On Boxing Day, while having the complimentary breakfast in the hotel, I heard an English conversation at the next table. I approached the young couple and asked them how to make a call outside Mozambique. The couple is originally from the States. They now live on the other side of the river and were in a hurry to catch a ferry. The young lady let me use her laptop to Skype one of my banks. There was no answer after ringing for half an hour. She then walked me to her friend's house where I was able to connect with my brother by email. By that time, I hadn't had contact with the outside world for a week. 

My second angel is a pastor couple who fed me the following week. Every day I would go to their house and spent pretty much the whole day with their church family. Even though they did not limit the times that I could get online, I only used their computer to correspond with my brother. The strangest thing happened - I was beginning to feel very isolated. Most of them were bilingual; however, I did not want to repeat my story over and over again. On New Year's Eve, I stayed in my room in the wealthy businesswoman's house when my "church friends" celebrated the New Year with lots of food and music. I had another long dialogue with the Almighty. After submitting myself according to His plans, I slept peacefully that night.

When I went to Maputo two days later to apply for a new passport, I borrowed the equivalent of 80 USD for four days there. Let me put this in perspective for you. The minimum monthly salary is 100 USD and the median range is 200 to 400 USD. I stayed at a backpackers, and survived on biscuits and tap water for three days. My family had wired money to the High Commissioner of Canada office in Maputo; however, the funds would not be released to me until Jan 5th. I stayed in the dorm room most of the time because fasting seemed more bearable that way. 

My third and fourth angels came in the form of young men who enabled me to communicate with the outside world and protected me from the darkness of the city. I have always felt fortunate to share with others what I have. Now I understand how blessed are the ones who give in their "poverty". On February 19th, I exited Mozambique and arrived in a hostel in Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania, a young man asked me, "Madam, do you have any idea how hard it is to have no money and live in Africa?". I replied, "Yes, I do."

A Tale of Four Candies

Yesterday I had a rather philosophical conversation with my young nephews. The older one, Erik, is going to be six years old in October and the younger one, Alex, is four years old. They were playing the “Super Mario Brothers” game and Erik told Alex to have patience. Alex said, “I don’t do patience and I don’t know what patience is.” I thought I would illustrate the concept to Alex by posing a question to them.

“Suppose I have four candies to give you. If you want it right this second, you can only get one candy. If you can wait twenty minutes, you can get two candies, and if you wait an hour, you will get all four candies.” To my surprise, 4-year old Alex said, “ I don’t know how long an hour is but I will wait an hour to get four candies.” I am surprised to hear this reply because we are in the age of instant gratification. Alex’s answer is somewhat unconventional, counter-intuitive and opposite to his previous statement.

What surprised me even more was Erik’s reply. He asked me how many candies I had in total. I said,’Four.’ He then said, “We will wait twenty minutes so we both get two candies each.” I commended Erik for being a good brother and showed consideration for his younger brother. Then their dad said to me, “Erik is not thinking about his brother at all. He is just optimising the wait time to get all your candies.”

I reflected on the conversation. Many a time, we forgo a great deal of possible rewards to attain instant gratification. Then there are times that we miss out on many opportunities because we illogically waited for rewards that would never materialize. I suppose the ultimate moral of this story is that we should be content with the decisions we make because life is a very good poker player.

Ignorance is Bliss.

Simón Bolívar once observed that ignorance can be more powerful than force. I did not fully understand what he meant until I found myself caring for my recently disabled mother.

In October 2014, my mother suffered a massive hemorrhagic stroke in the left side of her brain. She remained in and out of hospitals for nearly six months before finally returning home in April 2015. Before the stroke, she was sharp, outspoken, and possessed of an exceptional memory. Afterward, her world shrank. She now speaks only a few words a day, her thoughts trapped behind damaged pathways. Because of her limited speech, she is often mistaken for being cognitively slow. Paralysis on her right side confines her to a wheelchair. At times, I would find her sobbing after failed attempts to perform tasks that able-bodied people complete without thought. To the outside world, she appears utterly helpless.

During her stay in an extended care facility, staff affectionately nicknamed her “Mrs. Smiley” because of the broad grin she wore almost constantly. Her once fiery temper seemed to have dissolved into a quiet gentleness that had never been part of her personality. Fellow patients and caregivers treated her with extraordinary kindness, charmed by this placid façade. Few could imagine that before her stroke, she had been demanding, impatient, and intimidating—a woman whose presence filled a room and whose approval was never easily earned.

For most of my life, I kept my distance from her. We rarely shared heart-to-heart conversations. She disowned me more times than I can count during my teenage years, and I grew up without any reliable sense of a mother’s affection. Each reconciliation came with conditions, expectations, or unspoken debts. I asked God many times why our relationship seemed so permanently broken.

Now, stripped of her authority and independence, she has become meek and vulnerable. And in this reversal, something unexpected has happened to me. I feel a deep sympathy for her and find myself willing to help her without being asked, without needing recognition. Caring for her no longer feels transactional; it feels human.

Only then did I understand Bolívar’s words. It was ignorance—of her inner life, of my own woundedness, of the limits of our understanding—that governed our relationship for so many years. Her stroke did not heal our past, but it dismantled the forces that once defined it. In her silence, I learned compassion. In her weakness, I discovered forgiveness. And in confronting what was lost, I finally found what had long eluded us both.

Nicaragua Jan 22 - Feb 14, 2015

After visiting Mexico, Belize, Guatemala and Honduras, I had few expectations for my visit in Nicaragua except to visit some volcanoes, lakes, off-shore islands and colonial cities. Because of the injury on my left knee, I opted to skip a couple tourist attractions near the Honduras/Nicaragua border which has some hilly terrain. I went directly from Tegucigalpa to Managua by Tica Bus.

Unlike the majority of independent travellers, I chose to base in Managua and made day trips to Leon, Granada and Masaya National Park. I spent three days exploring Managua. The old cathedral of Managua was structurally damaged during the 1972 earthquake. The ruins of the old cathedral still have a haunting presence at the historical centre. Managua is a city of nameless streets. The shopping malls, markets and universities are often used as reference points. Another distinguishing feature is the “yellow trees” on major throughways of the capital city.

Granada and Leon are colonial cities that most backpackers use as hubs. The younger and more athletic visitors apparently prefer Leon because it offers more activities such volcano trekking & boarding and surfing. Moreover, I liked Granada more because it is heaven for photographers. The structures are better maintained and the buildings are more colourful. The islet dotted lakefront is simply gorgeous. The streets are wide and clean.

I visited Volcan Masaya which is a low, active volcano. The National Park surrounding the volcano is covered by solidified lava flows. Even though the area is not inhabited by people, the park is filled with unusual flora and fauna. I was very impressed with the informative presentation at the on-site museum.

The journeys between Managua and the Corn Islands were adventurous. To travel on a cargo boat is a romantic notion but it could be overwhelmingly challenging in reality. Captain D took 36 hours to travel from El Rama to Big Corn Island and the Isleno D took only 12 hours to go from Big Corn Island to El Rama. In comparison to the Bay Islands in Honduras, I like the Corn Islands more because they are more remote and less built-up. The odd time you could even witness crabs crossing a street to go back to the ocean.

To finish off my Nicaraguan visit, I stayed in Moyogalpa for nine days. I visited different parts of the island of Ometepe. It is a very peaceful place and there are farms and ranches everywhere on the island. The colour of the water is a murky green because the sediments are constantly stirred up by the currents of the lake water.

From Moyogalpa, I made two day trips to San Juan Del Sur and Rivas. San Juan Del Sur is a small beach town on the Pacific Coast. Its main attraction is the sandy beach. Rivas is a transportation hub in the southern part of Nicaragua. I tried to purchase a new carry-on there and found out that the prices were higher than those in Vancouver, Canada but a 2-piece fried chicken combo complete with fries, coleslaw and a soft drink cost only $3.50 USD.

Unlike Honduras, Nicaragua has always been trying to maintain its national identity separate from external influences such as the States, Spain, etc. Silhouette monuments of its national hero, Augusto Cesar Sandino, are erected throughout the country.

Honduras Jan 2 - 21, 2015.

Copan Ruinas was my first stop in Honduras. It also became my travel base in Honduras by chance. From Copan, I first travelled to San Pedro Sula, the North Coast and the Bay Islands. Then I returned to Copan and visited places in the west. Lastly, I travelled to the south and stayed in the capital city of Tegucigalpa for a few days before exiting the country for Nicaragua. 

The mountain roads in Western Honduras were not easy to traverse; however, I did feel very safe when I was in the “hill country”. I would feel secure enough to eat in a food stall near the town square of Copan Ruinas even after sunset. Around Copan there are several places that you can explore on foot or by bike. I also visited the Moon Jaguar Hot Springs Spa one afternoon. The spa is rather remote and has a serene ambience.

One of my Honduran hosts asked me about my top three favourite places in Honduras. My numero uno favourite place was the Copan Archaeological Park and Museum. Being an art-lover, I was impressed with the carvings, sculptures, artefacts and stellaes in this ancient Mayan city. The replica of the Rosalila Temple enabled me to visualize how glorious the city must have been when it was built. The McCaw birds are a colourful addition to this unique ruins site.

There are two Honduran port cities that have forts to guard off pirates and foreign attacks. I visited one such city, Trujillo which is 3 hours drive east of La Ceiba. Trujillo is my second favourite place in Honduras. Even though it is a Port of Call for many cruise ships and there is a fair size gringo population, the way of life remains simple. Its residents were kind to me when I needed help with my wardrobe malfunction.

Copan Ruinas is my third favourite place. It is a small town that remains unspoiled even though it receives thousands of tourists each year. Amazingly enough, it is also the place where I met my two Guatemalan friends. Several locally owned cafes serve excellent Café Americano. Every evening there are Christian worships and choir singing practices. It is a magical place.

Even though I have ridden on motor boats on open seas before, the tour of Cayos Cochinos had to be the most exciting part of my Honduran visit. Caribbean Sea is pretty rough to sail in at the best of times with waves higher than the boat. The sea is a  beautiful sapphire blue but it is always many shades of turquoise in the lagoons. I had a glimpse of the laid-back lifestyle and the traditional Garifuna way of living, topped off with a deep fried cod and plantain lunch.

My visit to the Museum of National Identity was indeed very educational. Hondurans should be proud of their heritage and try to maintain their culture independent of American influences. It is sad that a large part of the population still lives below the line of poverty. More than half of the clothing stores in large cities are stocked with merchandise from American thrift stores. People drink more carbonated drinks than filtered water. My wish for Hondurans is to have a better educational system, healthier diet, and a bigger middle class. 

Highlights of My Guatemalan Visit, Nov 25, 2014 - Jan 2, 2015

Writing a concise recap of a 38-day journey in any country is not an easy task. To capture the essence of my Guatemalan experience became particularly challenging when I liked every aspect of my experience. I have viewed the set of over 750 photos at least three times to try to select certain topics to expand on but to no avail. So I will just deploy a more long-winded chronological approach.

Instead of starting my Guatemalan journey in the capital like I normally would, I arrived in Livingston late November in the hope of attending the Annual Garifuna Festival. Unlike the other parades that I attended in Canada, I was part of this parade. It was definitely a lot more fun dancing with the people than just watching the parade.

Then the next unusual thing happened when I was staying in an eco-lodge on the river, Rio Dulce. After a night of heavy downpour, I went down early next morning to the dock to see if I could take some photos of the freshly replenished river. I saw what I thought was a river monster in the form of an over-sized snake. As I found out later, I actually sighted the elusive manatee at a close range.

My visit to Tikal would have been a standard, touristy affair if it weren’t for the fact that I got lost, trying to find the Group G Temples after a 4-hour guided tour. Even though most of the paths are paved, the distance from a group of structures to the next could be far. On that day, there was a triathlon in the national park. One of the tri-athletes ripped off a map from his tank top, and unexpectedly gave me the most unique souvenir.

When I headed off to Semuc Champey from Flores, I had no reservation for accommodation because I was in a hotel with no wifi in Santa Elena. On my way there, I met a group of young tourists and decided to tag along. I got lucky because the hostel that we stayed in is right outside the entrance of the national park and the setting is absolutely idyllic. It rained most of the night but I managed to crawl up to the peak the next morning to take pictures of the world-renown limestone pools. I rewarded myself with a cup of hot chocolate that was produced by the local kids at high tea.

Another amazing thing happened in Coban. I checked into a beautiful little hotel that is just half a block from the main square. My young friends from Semuc were raving about Antigua and said they could have stayed there the whole time instead. But I wanted to take a more unbeaten path and visit Huehuetenango in the west. I went down to the bus station where the luxury buses were parked only to find out that I would have to take a minibus in the early hours the next morning in the city square.

In Huehuetenango, I attended an open-air mass in the main square, visited a nearby Mayan ruins site and witnessed the burning of the devil on December 7th. I was glad that I made an effort to go to Huehue because I saw extraordinary landscapes. It was funny to see a shepherd girl with her flock waiting in front of a traffic light.

Lonely Planet has labelled Quetzaltenango (a.k.a. Xela) as the most perfect city in Guatemala. Well, it could well be for the large number of Gringos living there. There are several big box stores on the perimeter of the city. In addition, there are neighbourhood markets sprawling all over the city. Somehow the mixture of colonial buildings, Renaissance structures, modern stores and cobble stone streets blended quite well together. The highlights of my stay in Xela were actually a visit to Fuentes Georgina in Zunil and a day trip to San Marcos near the Mexican border.

Lake Atitlan took my breath away from the first glimpse. I based myself in Panajachel and visited several villages around the lake. Shopping and people-watching were my main activities at the lake. Lake Atitlan is one of the few places where traditional ways of life are prevalent. The residents prefer to carry their goods in a basin on their heads. Riding on the back of a pick-up truck is the public transportation norm.

Chichicastenango is about 1½ hour drive away from Panajachel by shuttle but it would take 2½ hours by chicken buses with 2 transfers. I went there on a Sunday. Their Sunday market is the largest in Central America. What really astounded me was how the locals worshipped Christian deity and saints in an indigenous way. Candles were placed in the aisles of the church. Incense was burnt as worshippers chant prayers in their mother tongue outside the church. Their cemetery is even more colourful than the houses for the living.

There are two ways of getting to Monterrico from places north of the village. I entered into Monterrico by way of a slow boat through the mangrove from La Avellana and exited via Iztapa on a highway four days later. One of my young friends from Semuc recommended Monterrico to me. I thought perhaps I should since Monterrico is a vacation spot on the Pacific coast and it would provide a change of scenery. It did give me a chance to take a break after two months of constantly on the move.

My last stop was La Antigua. This former capital city wowed me with its attention to details. Several people told me that it has the most beautiful McDonald’s restaurant in the world. And yes, it does. The city has put in so much effort to hide modern commercialism from sight. There are supermarkets, electronic stores, auto repair shops, etc. in the city but the signs are mostly inconspicuous. Tourists would just see the small grocery stores, ice cream parlours, bakeries, clothing shops and things you would find in an old small town. Flowers are planted everywhere even amongst the ruins and the streets are very clean.

Guatemala City is about an hour bus ride away from La Antigua. It is a modern city with many suburbs. I made two day trips to the city mainly to visit the city centre and the museums there. By coincidence, I was there on the last Sunday in 2014 and attended mass in the main cathedral. The Sunday market outside the cathedral was mostly a clothing market. Many people were buying new clothes for the new year that day, and the mood of the city was joyous.

My last day trip was a multi-destination one. I visited San Andres Iztapa in the morning. After lunch, I visited Tecpan and Iximche ruins. I managed to purchase a hand woven traditional skirt before vendors packed away their merchandise for the day. For weeks, I had been looking for a skirt to match the blouse that I bought in Chichicastenango. The villages around Lake Atitlan favoured blues and purples. Fortunately, Tecpan, like Chichi, favoured reds and oranges. I happened to stumble upon the right tribal colours at the very last minute.

If I could choose only one word to describe my Guatemalan experience, it would have to be “AUTHENTIC”. I ate mostly local food, travelled in chicken buses and pick-ups, shopped in local markets, and even was dressed in traditional Guatemalan clothing on New Year‘s Day.

May God protect this unique country and keep its genuine, loving people safe.