Spare Change¹

As I stepped off the San Diego Trolley, I knew that I was going to embark on a great adventure. Tijuana. As I neared the entrance to cross the border there was a priest with a plastic bowl and a picture of some kids. The caption on the picture said, "Feed Tijuana's homeless children." Yeah, right, I thought to myself, just another scam; this guy probably isn't even a priest. ²

Tijuana. Just the name of the city brings back a distinct smell. A smell that you will only know if you have been there. It takes only one time and you can relate to what I am saying. A smell that will permeate my olfactory senses forever. A thousand different scents compounded into one. The smell of fast food, sweat, sewage, and tears.³

As you cross the border, the first thing that hits you is the smell I mentioned earlier. Then you witness the first of many human sufferings you will encounter. The man with no legs begging for money, the woman with her children huddled around her with an old grease stained wax cup hovering in the air waving at you with the eyes of poverty, the children dressed in Salvation Army hand-me-downs, ripped pants and mismatched shoes surrounding you, begging for money. ⁴ Their hands search your pockets for change, a wallet, anything that will get them food for the night.

Once I got past the few blocks of human suffering and handed out all I could, I wandered upon a busy little plaza. This place is reasonably clean and clear of trash. You hear the deafening sounds of the music from the nearby clubs, and see dozens of young drunken Americans stumbling around. A lot of tourists are carrying what seems like five bags each and a distressed look, the kind you get when you have been shopping all day. ⁵ A score of children hold out little packets of colored Chiclets, a local gum, sold to you at any price you can haggle them down to. It's pretty pathetic that you should feel the need to haggle over the price of gum with a child, but this is Tijuana. Americans and tourists have come from all over the world to haggle here. That is just the way it is, the way it always will be.

As I continued my journey, I reached a bridge. The bridge was terrible. Along the sides there was trash and rubbish. Towards the middle of the bridge, I experienced one of the most touching moments of my life, one of those happy ones where you don't know if you should shed a tear from happiness or out of despair. There was this little child playing the accordion and another one playing a guitar. He was singing a Spanish song, well actually it sounded like he was screaming as his compadre strummed the guitar. He had a little cup in front to him, and I threw a coin into it. He just smiled and kept singing. I turned around and left, but this time as I passed the priest I filled his plastic bowl with the rest of my money. ⁶

Question for Review and Revision

1. What is your general impression of this essay? Does it relate an interesting, cohesive narrative?
2. How well did the student handle transitions and the passage of time?
3. How did the writer advance the action of the story? What devices did he use?
4. The narrative switches from first person "I" to second person "you." Do you see this as a problem?
5. Are there awkward passages - such as the description of the bridge - that require rewriting?

Key to Highlighted Passages

1. The title. After reading this essay, explain why "Spare Change" makes a better title than simply "My Trip to Mexico" or simply "Tijuana"   (back)
2. First impression of priest
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3. Fragments like these are acceptable in personal essays when used for special effect. Fragments should be avoided in formal papers, letters, and reports
  (back)
4. Strong visual images of poverty and suffering.
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5. Strong visual images of poverty and suffering.
  (back)
6. Final scene illustrates writer's change of attitude. Rather than describe how he felt or state a thesis about poverty, the writer demonstrates how the effect Tijuana had on him by donating the rest of his money.
  (back)