But this wasn't a spiritually empty place - Heaven forbid. Pamphlets showed pictures of similarly healthy men in their 40s who'd been 'called' to spread the love of God. Women could join the 'Sisters of the Poor' and pose for pictures with actual poor black people, wearing full-length white habits untouched by the dirt of the packed-earth huts around them.

In the morning we'd discuss whether progressive sections of the capitalist class would find a technological fix to global warming. At lunch we'd join the caucasianly blessed in the all-you-can-eat cafeteria. In the evening I'd walk to the subway through a vast, multi-cultural market. It was a mind-fuck. Thankfully, Fordham students don't have to be exposed to all this; according to my sources, they have a private shuttle that picks them up on-campus, and drops them off in midtown at 51st street. Poor people of colour are the friendly folk who serve them lunch or just a blur in the van window.

More later - I'm dressed like a hipster, I have to go radiate insousiance somewhere.