The other day I was at a site near Plovdiv, Bulgaria called the Wonderful Bridges, fantastic rock shapes created when a huge cave subsided a very long time ago. Some women were operating roadside stalls selling honey and mead products and also hand knitted goods. While the natural produce looked good I settled for some hand knitted booties. It puzzles me that we go into supermarkets and pay what’s asked but when confronted by the poor we bargain hard on the basis that it’s expected of us. I knit myself and watching these women knitting in 35 degree heat was enough for me. I paid what they asked, which was really pennies for me. So am I a mug or is there some justification for income redistribution through geriatric tourism??