Worth to read
I dig into my change purse in the back of the taxi cab, and pull out a few coins. Setting them flat against my palm, I tilt my hand back and forth to catch the light through the window; it’s night and I can’t see clearly. I flip each coin back to front while the driver stares, turned sideways in his seat, watching me squint to identify the country of origin first, then the denomination. UAE. Tanzania. A couple Euro. A dime. Nope, no Kenyan shillings. Mpesa mobile money transfer? Sorry, I don’t live here, I don’t have an account. Would you accept currency from an unrecognized Republic?
Working in travel in Washington D.C. for several years, I touched hundreds upon hundreds of passports, spilling over their pages, envious and at times resentful of the jet set lifestyle, or what I imagined it to be. As a courier, I would…
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