There came a point during our travels when we found ourselves frustrated by some locals attitudes towards us Westerners and our wallets. To try and put these emotions into perspective, as well as for therapeutic reasons, Jess wrote this poem...

Lost in a world I don't understand
One among thousands
Trampling ancient cultures
Like an out of tune marching band,

Looking for rhythm, searching for reason
Little did we know
We're traveling in the wrong season,

Caught up in thoughts of wrong versus right
But things are much simpler;
People struggling to find a bite,

Morals and justice, hobbies and interests,
Kindness without motive
Are luxuries in a world
Supported solely by the seamstress,

With a little savings, and minor jet lag
We get worked up
At being seen as a walking money bag,

We've seen hardships and real labour
So why get worked up
Over an inconsequential monetary favour?

The season changes and the masses arrive,
The seamstress puts down her thread -
Tourism is much better than stitching to survive,

Summer's inflation kick starts the gravel
But what happens when winter comes?
Streets are deserted and the fabric unravels...

With aspirations of leaving minimal damage,
We saved up our pennies to travel the world
But the smiles are fading,
The innocence is gone,
The seamstress is missing,
The streets are bare.