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| The Vltava River in Prague, Summer 2019. Photo Credit: K.H. |
Our knuckles turn white as we awkwardly grip our luggage and
descend the stairs into the dark subway station. We look around to try and
understand our surroundings, and I fear that we look like innocent tourists
just waiting to be taken advantage of.
We see a sign that says CHANGE and we roll our luggage toward
it. My girlfriend says that she’ll wait with the luggage while I change some
Euros for Czech korunas. I walk inside the small, lonely store.
It says 0% commission, and I think that is probably a good
thing, even though I only have a vague idea of what commission means. There is
a list of currency exchange rates, and at the top, I see that the exchange rate
of Czech korunas to Euros looks about right, and I prepare a one-hundred Euro
bill.
“I’d like to exchange one-hundred Euros,” I say meekly.
The man behind the counter is young, perhaps a few years
older than me, with short red hair, pale blue eyes, and a long nose. He
prepares a receipt for me to sign. I begin signing my first name, then I look
up to read what I am actually signing. I see that there is a section that says I have three hours to cancel the transaction if I wish, and, feeling
relief, I finish signing my name.
The man puts my one-hundred Euro bill through a machine to
verify it, and holds it up to the light as well, as if he believes that I might
be trying to scam him. He then slips three Czech bills under the glass: a
1,000, a 500, and a 100.
I thank him quietly, carefully place the three bills into my wallet, and scurry out of there.
Back with my girlfriend, we look at my receipt and see that the exchange rate was one Euro = sixteen Czech korunas, much lower than it
should be. I was scammed.
I turn back to look at his store. At the top of the exchange
rate list, the rate from Czech korunas to Euros is in large print, and
perfectly normal. At the very bottom of the list, in small print, the exchange
rate from Euros to Czech korunas is terrible.
“This place…no good,” an older man says, with hazelnut eyes
and short, curly gray hair. “I can show you…better place.”
I’m nervous, and I don’t want to be talking with this man.
But I remember that I can still cancel my transaction, so I rush back inside
the CHANGE shop.
“I want to cancel my exchange.”
“Why?” he says, clearly agitated.
“It says on my receipt that I can cancel within three hours.”
“I know what it says!” he snaps. “Why do you want to change?”
Because you are a fraud and take advantage of people for a living! I wish I were brave enough to say.
“Because I want my one-hundred Euros back," I actually say.
“But why?!” he yells angrily.
He’s breaking the script. Service workers are not supposed to
yell at customers. I’m even more nervous now. I imagine him coming out from his
glass box and hurting me, or calling some henchmen to come up from behind me and hurt
me. I have lost some money, but it’s not too bad, so I decide to give up.
“It’s okay,” I try to say calmly. “Thank you.”
Back outside, the old man is still there. “How much…did
you…exchange?” he asks. Why is he still here? Wasn’t he just passing by on his
way to catching a subway train?
“Not much, it’s okay.”
“Can I see…your wallet? I can…help you.”
My girlfriend nudges me and says “zou ba,” Mandarin for
“let’s go,” so the man cannot understand.
“We’ll be alright, thanks though,” I say, and we fast-walk away without
looking back. Minutes later, we see the old man approaching other people, and
we realize that even the old man is a fraud, even though he was right when he
said that the CHANGE store was no good.
My mind feels muddy as we finally walk into the subway’s
ticket area, where we quickly learn that we need coins to buy a ticket, and we
only have bills. “Do you need coins?” someone says, “Maybe I can help?” But
we’ve had enough of talking to strangers, so we go to a store and buy a pastry,
then use the change to buy two subway tickets.
After a difficult time wandering around trying to find our
hotel, when we are finally relaxing, I do some math and learn that I lost about
one-thousand Czech korunas, which is about forty US dollars. That sucks, but we
can manage. I am grateful that I did not lose more than that, and I know that,
for the price of forty US dollars, I learned a valuable lesson. I was too
innocent, too quick to trust others, and too quick to act.
Perhaps
that man needs the money to live, I tell myself to try and feel
better. No matter, I vow that I will not be fooled again, that I will be more
careful, savvier.
The rest of the evening is pleasant, but I feel sorry for
Prague, because my first impression of this ancient city will always be the
time when scammers flocked to me like vultures to a cadaver.
* * *
After a first day like that, I never imagined our second day to be defined by a profound love for humanity. Or maybe our first day helped to heighten our next day's experience.
* * *
Walking the crowded cobblestone streets in the baking sun the
next day, and feeling pretty pessimistic about our species, I use one hand to make a visor for an invisible hat, and the other to
hold her hand. We move like subway trains, picking up speed only to stop
abruptly as something grabs her attention. I walk a few more paces beyond her
before realizing that I ignorantly passed by something interesting.
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| The Lennon Wall. Photo Credit: K.H. |
It’s graffiti, but unlike any other we had seen in Prague, or
Europe for that matter. It is a group project of hundreds, perhaps thousands of
artists. Many have written messages like “all you need is love,” “no room for
hate,” and similar feel good declarations. In the middle of the wall, there is
a black and white portrait of John Lennon’s face, the way he looked after he
left his boy band years behind. A young man is playing Beatles songs on his
guitar directly under him, as if he is being watched over by his teacher.
Later, I will learn that this wall has endless layers, and it
symbolizes a deep, collective pain and love. It began with one person spray-painting
an image of John’s face in an act of mourning his recent death, but later
people began using the wall at night to write anti-communist sentiments (the
only way to speak freely in then-communist Czechoslovakia). It was an anonymous
chat room in the pre-internet social network.
But today, the wall’s message goes far beyond the Czech
Republic, or even Europe. Today I see many Chinese characters on the wall, like
“Support Hong Kong” and “Hong Kong, Keep Fighting!” I wonder if the Czech
people feel for Hong Kong with a special intensity, because they know
intimately what it is like to be suppressed by a communist regime.
While I am admiring the wall, some Chinese tourists are
beside me, and they are also reading the Chinese characters. They mutter things
to each other in Mandarin, like “disrespectful,” “absolutely terrible,” and my
favorite, “everyone knows that China is trying to help Hong Kong, and those
violent protesters are completely out of line!”
No, not everybody knows that. But you do. It is true for you,
as it might be true for many more in China. And if these Chinese tourists can
serve as a litmus test for China as a whole, then I can only imagine what they
think about the Taiwanese, who are often described in Chinese media as “separatist terrorists” when in actuality they have
been peacefully living in a country that has never been ruled by the Chinese
Communist Party and never should be.
* * *
John Lennon is looking down at me, and the man is singing
“All You Need Is Love.”
Love is great, perhaps the greatest thing about humanity, but
in the case of Hong Kong and Taiwan, they need more than love. This wall is
beautiful, and it is covered in warmth and heartfelt prayers from people all
over the world, who come here as though on a pilgrimage for a religious faith
deeper and older than any scripture. But this wall will not change the
oppressive systems in place.
I don’t believe that the leaders of Czechoslovakia’s
communist government saw the wall and wept, declaring “We were wrong! We must
democratize!” Instead, they just painted the wall over with white paint.
The same is true for China. This wall will not change them.
Neither will your FaceBook post. Only long-term, conscious, careful pressure
from all sides can work, forcing them to see that the world will not accept
them unless they fundamentally change.
But isn’t my story just another layer of graffiti on the
wall? Just a glorified FaceBook post?
And yet, the wall gives me hope. It shows me that for many of
us, our hearts are aligned, even if we are too afraid, too busy, or too
unguided to act.
* * *
When the communists in Czechoslovakia saw the graffiti on the
wall, they painted it white. But the people just graffitied it again. And the
Party painted it white again. Over and over until eventually, most likely due
to other, larger forces at work, communism in Czechoslovakia fell and democracy
prevailed. And now, the wall is never painted white again. It just gets painted
over with more graffiti, more outbursts of passionate love for Hong Kong and
our fellow humans and the world – love begets love – infinitely, as long as we
are brave and vulnerable enough to express it.
The Lennon Wall is the Truth was a capital T that always
prevails in the end. You can paint it white all you want, but it will always
come back more beautiful than before.
We stare at the wall for a long time until we finally bring
ourselves to look away.
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| A Close-up Image of the Wall. Photo Credit: K.H. |