"These are not poor people. They have enough food and a roof over their heads. Our poor have none of these things."

So a stunned and culture shocked Franciscan Brother from Papua New Guinea told me after I'd walked with him around some of the poorest parts of London and Glasgow, and so, over the course of a few days in each others company, we talked at length about poverty, what constitutes poverty in our cultures, what poverty is for each of us.

He spoke to me of the devastation of the wage earner of a family dying. Of eating only if food could be found, and starving if not. Of the horrors of a bad harvest. Of making something last well after it's use-by date.

I talked to him of the poverty of time, living in a world so dominated by the clock and the need to stick to a schedule, there was no space for the soul, no space to reflect and think, the poverty of lack of choice.

Neither of us could live in the other's world. He was homesick for Papua New Guinea, especially the climate, and found Britain all too much. I could not live in the climate of PNG, and would find much of the cultural norms difficult to accept.

It's easy to romanticise poverty... Choosing to live in "poverty" is a totally different ball game from genuine poverty. I'd rather use the word simplicity for my own life style, keeping to as simple a lifestyle as I can. By most British standards, I am considered poor. I have little in the way of possessions, other than those I really need, and I still think I could live with less. By the standards of Papua New Guinea, I am immeasurably rich.

This is posted as part of Blog Action Day 2008