On hunger, heartache, and the cockeyed optimism of USA

I'll never forget the first time I saw a beggar.

I was in the UK. It was 2001 and 9/11 had just happened.

Back then we didn't have beggars in New Zealand - the inequality in our country had not yet reached that level.

I recall my mother buying sandwiches for a man from Debenhams, and the slurred greeting of "Happy New Year dollface" thrown across the street at 17-year-old me.

Often they would have animals with them. Later I would cry. Here in America, I've seen worse. And I feared I may have become desensitised.

But yesterday, I saw a man with no legs begging on the roadside. I felt that same emotion rise again. I have sat down and talked to people who have had babies with them as they beg. I have met people singing worship songs in subways who have just got out of prison - literally singing for their lives.

I lined up with the rest of America last July for my first job fair. I saw the human bodies up and down the street along the roadside entrepreneurs hustling with the line-waiters. Many had come that day from other jobs. They wanted to become something more than what they currently were.

When I got inside, with the rest of the hopefuls, it was to discover nothing more than a rouse. A trap designed to entice people, all the jobs were simply false hopes. There were dodgy pyramid-scheme insurance salesmen; the police and the army also had stalls.

I learned so much about America that day. The real America - not the one you see on TV. I talked to those people in the line. These Americans - not Visa holders - were as desperate and "hungry" as I was to find a job.

There were several days during this time, before I started my job at Papyrus, that I felt I was going to join them. Those people on the streets. It's the first time I've gone hungry. The emptiness humbles you. Reminds you of your place in everything. There's nothing left between you and God.

Now I am surrounded every day by people who spend $80 on a music box for themselves without thinking about it.

Even Joan Baez might have gone hungry once. The lady I help with taxes really believes in phases of the moon and the impact they have on us. She also believes in star signs and fate. She has told me amazing stories. She knew Eddie Fischer and had to help him up onstage once at an awards ceremony when his alcoholism took over. She also used to live above Faye Dunaway. She said Dunaway was a screamer - she would lock herself in her bathroom, and scream. She gave all the apartments near her keys in case of an emergency. She was terrified no one would find her.

I even saw Drew Barrymore on the street today. It's easy to get distracted here.

My favourite story was the one about Joan Baez. She has gone to Paris in 1961 and seen Baez busking on a street corner. Her voice carried strong and effortlessly.

Joan Baez, the unofficial patron saint of the poor and dispossessed.