of other extremes

After a couple days visiting this place, for holiday, I find my senses reeling with the shock of it: culture shock, I guess you would call it. “Extremes”-shock is the way I feel it. I live in one land of extremes; I am visiting another sort of extreme. This place reeks of wealth. Lexuses and Mercedes zip along on vehicle-only roads: perfectly paved, but no sidewalks to be found. Gesturing hands flash bling, in the form or Rolex watches and Tiffany rings. Shopping centers hop till early morning hours, top-name brand store signs gleaming, beckoning.
“Is there any poverty here?” I asked at one point. Pausing, my friend hesitantly replied, “Well, yeah, I think so . . .”
Coming from my “home”-land of extremes, I find this particular one surprisingly hard to digest. It’s just too much. Too much of everything. Of everything except one thing. Except one being. Not too much of Him. Not enough . . .