Personal Narrative: My Life Changing Trip

My Life Changing Trip
Imagine standing on a road in a warm humid place in the middle of nowhere. A place where the grass is dry, the fields are endless, and the smell of dirt stings the inside of your nose as the wind sweeps by. The roads are narrow and lonely. The only visitors that pass are the few people on bikes and the occasional rusty truck that hums as loud as a lawn mower as it carries sugar cane from a nearby farming village. As you look out into the fields, water buffalo can be seen in the distance and the periodical old woman appears carrying a long pole on her back with huge amounts of bug eaten vegetables in baskets on each end. You see a small dirt path leading off of the road into the field. The end of the path cannot be seen, but with no weeds or grass growing on the walkway it can be assumed that civilization lies ahead. Hot, sticky, bug bitten and hungry, you make your way down the path until finally you reach a small village.
They look as if they are made mostly of mud with pieces of old brick here and there. In one of the houses there is a man smoking out of what looks to be a long stick. You get closer and realize that it is bamboo and the sweet smell that surrounds the house is opium. You hear the sound of a chicken squawk and turn around to see the five chickens in the middle of the village being disturbed as a little boy with dirt on his face runs towards you in curiosity. He stops just close enough to study your face but far enough to stay away from anything that may be dangerous. You don't speak the same language so you bend down on one knee and stick out your hand offering him a piece of candy. He studies your hand for a moment, and with one swift movement he darts and takes the candy out of your hand and then jumps back into his position for safety. Little boys and girls in this world have never seen white people