Transition

Back in the UK again at my "home away from home" - Sue and Terry's. It still amazes me that they so willingly have me and I have never felt so welcome. Their generosity knows no limits and I feel very loved and blessed. In fact, I can't even think about the time when I will leave and have to say goodbye to them....
My last hours in India were amazing. I had dinner on Wed night with a new and dear friend and then spent Thursday getting ready to leave.  I went to Holy Thursday Mass at Mother House and, once again felt the profound presence of The Holy Spirit. The singing and prayers and the love pouring out of each person there was so beautiful. After Holy Thursday Mass and the washing of the feet, it is tradition to sit in vigil until midnight and after confession I sat for a while in silence and prayer with the sisters and other worshipers. It was so peaceful...I never wanted to leave. I felt the Holy Spirit so fully, so completely and I felt wrapped in love.
I met a couple of fellow volunteers afterwards to bid them farewell then hailed a cab (not easy) and headed to my hotel. It was about 9:00pm and I had not eaten so decided to go to the all night cafe around the corner and have a snack. I ordered some Indian food and while I was waiting for it, I noticed an older Indian gentleman at the next table. He smiled at me and asked me where I was from. I sensed something in him that compelled me to speak with him and ended up moving over to his table. Turns out he lives in the USA and was visiting family in Kolkata. He was born in Kolkata but moved to the states nearly 60 years ago! His wife had died only a couple of years ago and he told me how much he missed her. I just sat and listened to him, which was all he really wanted. He then asked me about me and was amazed that I had been travelling for so long by myself, saying how brave i was. He told me about his daughter, about the same age as me and said i would really like her. He was such a sweet man. A very staunch christian, Baptist, he spoke openly about his faith and quoted the bible several times. I told him i was catholic and about the gift of being with the sisters at Mother House. He wondered why I wasn't married, I just laughed (how else to respond?!).  he said he hoped I didn't mind him saying, but he found me very beautiful and the way he said it reminded me so much of my Dad who always told me that. I think he was sent to me to remind me of my Dad. I still miss him so much. Beauty is, indeed in the eye of the beholder
I only write about this because I want to remember these things that have touched me so deeply on my travels. People I have met who I have forged new friendships with, some, I know I will see again some day, and some I know I will never see again. When you feel instantly comfortable in someone else's presence and you can spend a few hours with them and not run out of things to say...you know it is the beginning of a special friendship. 
I keep saying how blessed I am. 
I really, really am!

Kolkata

It is incredibly hot and humid here in Kolkata. It is a relatively modern city and there is a heavy British influence in the architecture and monuments giving it a much more colonial feel. The poverty is ongoing.
My volunteering is going well at the Mission of Charity house. My day begins with 6am Holy Mass at the Mother House on AJC Bose Rd. I leave my hotel at 5:45 and take a cab there as I am not staying in the street that most of the volunteers stay at. After Mass, we have breakfast together (chai, banana and bread) and then Sister Mercy Mary gives the volunteers a blessing before we head off to our various posts. I am working at a place called Prem Dam, a 35 minute walk through the slums, where people who have been rescued from the streets and are now living. Many of them are mentally ill, have been abused, or are very old. There is a women's section and a separate men's section and the complex is located on the edge of the slums.
The morning begins with doing the washing for all the residents. I have no idea how many there are, but I can tell you, there are mountains of laundry. It's great though because it means they are being well cared for - nobody sits in soiled bedding or clothing, ever. The process is very organized and the women who are able to help certainly don't mind telling you what to do! After that, we carry the buckets and bundles of washing up to the roof top to be hung out to dry. Downstairs, there is an area where all the women sit and socialize. This is where we get to visit, talk to, massage, sing, pray, and generally bestow love upon these women. It is a beautiful thing and we have a lot of fun. Some of the women are in very bad states - one in particular was burned with acid and has no eyes, nose or ears and most of her body has been burned. She is in the best place she could possibly be.
Whenever someone needs to go to the toilet, you have to help them and then clean them. The toilet area is a cement room with a drain and people can use a comode or just squat or whatever they need to do. It is basic, but clean. There is a hose and tap and you just keep hosing everything down. This was, for me the most challenging part and I worried whether I could do it. On the first day, I was just thrust into it, and now, strangely enough, it is the easiest for me. I just keep thinking, what if it were someone I loved? How would I want them to be treated in this situation? It makes it so much easier.There is a beautiful young woman named Rita from Portugal who makes everything fun and funny! Even the toilet duties, we make a good team.....attitude is everything!
A snack is served and then we have our own break of tea and biscuits outside in an area for volunteers. The whole complex is immaculately clean and peaceful...you often hear the sisters praying and singing in a quiet room reserved for them. It's just so beautiful.
Lunch is a big meal and boy can these women eat! It is simple fare, rice, dahl, vegetables and fruit and the plates are piled high. Some of the women are so tiny and frail but they manage to eat every morsel. We clean them up, take them to the toilet and then they have a rest. There is a break until 3pm when dinner and more cleaning and visiting happens. The day ends at 5:30.
I won't say it's easy, but it is done with so much love, it doesn't really feel like work. All you have to do is hold a hand, give a hug, stroke a cheek, and the smile you get back is worth more than anything. I asked someone where the funding comes from for food and supplies. The answer: "It just comes".
I didn't realize the impact this would have on me. Just being in the very places that Mother Theresa walked, prayed, lived and worked brings tears to my eyes when I think that I have experienced only a moment, a tiny fraction of what she gave to the world.
I have always loved her, and now, I feel honored to say that I know her, if only in her spirit and her utter and absolute devotion to God.

Sick

After weeks in India, I was feeling surprised (and happy) that so far, I have had no vomiting or diarrhoea. Until today. I woke up at 4:00am with a churning tummy and then when I got up, threw up everything in my stomache. After that, I felt better so decided to go ahead with my plans to see the place where buddism began, a 45 min tuk-tuk ride through the city. I thought it would be a good idea to drink some water with electrolytes and take some pro-biotics. Driving through the bumpy streets, I could feel my tummy begin to swirl. When I arrived with two of my friends, I got out and walked into the already blazing heat of the day. We got our tickets and decided to walk through the gardens first. They were beautifully manicured and so unlike anywhere else. I said to the girls "what if I have to throw up" and they said, "just do it". "Where?!" I asked, with growing dread. The reply was "anywhere! This is India, get it out!".  A few minutes later, there I was in the beautiful gardens, spilling my guts over the manicured hedge, monks walking past me, not even flinching. Even a little bit of pee came out to my utter embarrassment The girls had gone on with the guide, leaving me in my misery, distracting the guide, who, incidentally didn't flinch either. I was mortified! 
And then humbled. I am now one of the millions of people in this country who have not a spec of privacy in their day to day lives. They do everything in public it seems - bathing, peeing, shitting, and spitting. And yet, they seem to do it with a lot more tact and grace than I did. And they don't do it in the grounds of a national monument. 
I am quite a modest and private person when it comes to bodily functions. In India, it is openly talked about as a natural part of life. Even in our group, if someone is suffering with constipation or diarrhoea, we all offer advice, medications and support. One day, as we were walking a long way into the centre of the city, we stopped in the hot, crowded street at a pharmacy (more like a drive-through window) and discussed the treatment for one of our group member who was suffering with constipation. Everyone in the shop gathered around and even passersby stopped in interest. It's just not a big deal and is an important aspect of our health.
Another lesson for me to learn. So many more to come I'm sure.
In the meantime, I pray that I can get through the 15 hour overnight train journey without needing to use the toilet. But if I do, then I'll just hike up my skirt and do it!!

A very strange thing happened.....

As I was standing at the gate to visit the gardens and see the sunset behind the Taj Mahal, I heard someone call out to me. I turned around, only to see a woman I met when I was walking the Camino! Her name is Marie-Jose and she lives in Holland. I couldn't believe it! We had a huge hug and kept looking at each other in complete bewilderment. We had a moment to quickly catch up before going into the garden and then had some time together inside. Neither one of us had mentioned anything about India when we were in Spain, so when you think that it could have been 5 minutes either way when we arrived at the garden gate, we would not have met. 
Of course, I have been thinking about this ever since, wondering how these things happen....but more importantly, why. I met Marie-Jose towards the end of the Camino along with a bunch of other people who had all been walking around the same time. I remember having dinner with her once and bumping into her many times along "the Way". Conversations on the camino are often close and intimate and you get to know people quickly. I liked her as soon as we met and remember the good conversations. 
Is it the magic and spiritual wonder of India? Serendipity? Coincidence? Or merely a chance meeting with a friend? I don't know what to make of it but I know that everything in life happens for a reason. I will never forget her as she is now part of the story of my travels. Who knows who I will meet again....!
I leave it to God and keep my heart and my soul open to all the possibilities.
I sincerely hope it is not the last time I will meet Marie-Jose. Maybe I will go to the Netherlands next!

Impressions

I've been writing about the places I've been to and the sights that I have seen but recently have thought that these things, though wondrous as they are, can easily be read about in any travel guide. While they are a vital part of the experience and understanding of India, they tell only part of the story, a story of how 1.25 billion people manage to co-exist together peaceably. 
I've decided instead to write about my impressions of India as I see it from day to day. When I am on the bus or riding in a tuk-tuk, I look out the window and see the people living as they do.  I would describe India as functioning in a sort of organised chaos. Just taking a rickshaw, for example, you are thrust into the mayhem of a traffic system that has no rules. The drivers seem to read the traffic with intuition and skill rather than use reflex or reaction. They drive on the left hand side of the road but often cross over, pass, or stop wherever they feel like. Our guide Mayank told me that statistically, there are no more accidents in this system of disorder than in an organised, rule driven system. Hard to believe, but so far, I have not seen any sort of accident at all. 
The busses are really interesting too. I like taking local transport because you get a chance to observe the locals and sometimes even have a conversation. I look out the window and the scenes I observe are little vignettes frozen in my mind forever. An old man bathing by the side of the road; cycle rick-shaws  lined up along the street, their sleeping owners lying precariously on top of the seat and handlebars. This is their home. Countless beggers, children, bedraggled and looking like they have never had a bath. Public toilets (I use the term loosely) with no doors but facing the road where you can see them doing their business. Men spitting the vile red juice of the paan they chew all day long. A half naked, dirty toddler playing with a plastic bottle in the middle of a roundabout, oblivious to the chaotic traffic swirling around him, no parent in sight. Men,  young and old walking hand in hand, not as lovers, but as best friends. I find this oddly endearing. A polio survivor,  his twisted, crippled body crawling through the filth of the streets, begging because it's all he can do. A man, sitting in a barber's chair having a shave, perilously close to the side of the road, only inches away from the speeding traffic. Women dressed in colourful saris, deftly stepping around the rubbish and piles of cow manure in their jewelled sandals, anklet bracelets jingling in the noisy street. Scrawny, mangy dogs scrabbling in the garbage looking for scraps. More tattered, filthy, lice infested, smiling children, playing in the squalor, always seizing the opportunity to beg from the passersby. Young men on motorcycles, usually two at a time, dressed as westerners with their aviator sunglasses gleaming in the sunlight like giant flies. And the ever common sight of people relieving themselves unabashedly in a country where there is no privacy at all. It is accepted, just as the filth, the rubbish, the dirty children, the foul smells are so much a part of the fabric of this complicated and interesting country. I am overwhelmed, overstimulated as I try to make sense of it all, immersing myself in it and trying to blend in,  my whiteness too stark a contrast to the beauty of the Indian people.
I hate this place. I love this place. I can't explain it

Jaisalmer

We took a 19 hour train journey on an overnight sleeper train. Leaving Delhi, I watched the landscape turn from the overcrowded bustle of the city to the   ubiquitous slums and unending poverty of the sprawling shanty towns with their shelters  strung together with any bit of plastic, tin, paper and sticks, each dwelling leaning on the next in an effort to hold it all together. Strewn with garbage it went on, kilometre after kilometre, thousands of people  living together, a writhing sea of humanity amidst open sewage and piles of waste and rubbish. Amazingly, children were playing and smiling and a community was evident despite these appalling conditions. I felt my heart break knowing there is nothing I can do to change this. It is, as it is.
The trains have compartments with 3 bunks on each side and, as luck would have it, I was assigned the top bunk. Once I was up there, it was fine but I prayed I didn't need to use the loo in the middle of the night. I could just imagine myself climbing down, negotiating the ladders and probably stepping on something or someone in the process. It was a long journey but I made it just fine, not too worse for the wear. The reward was arriving in the beautiful old fort town called Jaisalmer and once we got our bags, navigated our way out of the chaotic station and into jeeps waiting to take us up through the very narrow and winding streets to our hotel....we could finally relax. 
It's hard to describe the noise...horns honking, people yelling at each other, tuk tuk's, scooters and motorcycles vying to be heard over the din and inch their way into position. It amazes me that in this crazy chaos I don't think about wearing a seatbelt (there are none) and I readily put my faith in the driver to get me where I need to go, safely. So far, so good.
There are stray cows and oxen everywhere. They feed on the rubbish in the streets (Indian garbage collection solution?) and the long grasses that people cut from the fields and bring them. They are seemingly calm amidst the chaos of the traffic and are regarded with respect as the drivers avoid contact with them.
The next day I booked a pedicure (350 rupees, or $7 cdn) which was great, but very different to what I'm used to. First off, the girl had no way of getting hot water except by placing an electrical wand, plugged perilously into a wall socket that looked like it would spark into fire any moment, into a bucket of water. Not kidding. It seemed to work and I was grateful for the warm soak. An hour and a half later, I emerged, pink toenails and freshly threaded eyebrows....a new woman! I then went out to explore the city and tour the fort and palace.

Shopping in India is a very different experience. Instead of haggling at the market stall, you go inside behind the colourful array of "samples" hanging in front of the shop revealing a huge back room with all the stock neatly stacked and ready to be unfurled for your buying pleasure. There is a huge cushion for you to sit on and they  usually offer you chai, or in my case, a beer and then set to work convincing you to buy something, unfurling piles and piles of colourful cashmere and silk to entice you. It is a long process and I succumbed once, emerging an hour later, a bit tipsy, and totally bewildered at how I managed to leave with five pashmina scarves in hand and a dinner date with the much too young shopkeeper. Needless to say, I have tried to avoid this situation ever since. I prefer instead take a rickshaw into the non-touristy parts of the city where I can chat with the locals, drink street chai and take interesting photos. 

The people I am travelling with are great, particularly the 8 young women ages 19-28. They have welcomed me into their fold, telling me I am more like a peer than a mom and I am growing increasingly fond of each one of tthese bright, beautiful and interesting young women. 
It makes me long for my own kids and I often think of them and how much I wish they could experience this. I hope they will one day.

Real India

I think I am getting used to things in India, though some things I doubt I ever will. The smell is at times overwhelming, a choking, gagging sensation that makes me breathe through my mouth most of the time. The constant noise is incredible and the heat is stifling. Horns honking from every vehicle, big or small, people screeching at each other in their high pitched voices, shopkeepers shouting at you for attention. At night, thank goodness,  it is blissfully quiet and we have had some lovely evenings sitting on top of rooftop restaurants eating amazing food and getting to know one another. It is very hot - I'm thinking high 30's, and I am told that it is still quite cool by Indian standards...this area can get up to 50 degrees in the summer! As we head further south, the heat will get worse. Most of us have bought some of the baggy trousers to wear because you need to cover up your legs in public (out of respect), and also because it helps keep the sun and any lurking mosquito from getting at you. On this style of group travel we travel as the locals do using public transport and staying in 1-2 star hotels which are comfortable, clean and tend to be in the centre of the town, close to all the action. Our guide gives us an orientation and walking tour of each new place, showing us the main attractions and suggesting good, but affordable places to eat. He then leaves us on our own to do as we wish either with group members or on our own. He also helps us arrange extra things we might like to do in the area.

India is at once a stifling, dirty, vile, fantastic, colourful, richly vibrant and deeply unsettling place. You are faced at one moment with rich culture, festivals, forts, palaces, architecture, temples, beaches, music and then thrust suddenly into the deepest poverty and human filth. It is indeed a place that begins to take hold of you in a way you never expected, in a way that most certainly will change who you are and what you think about the world. I embrace the challenge and the opportunity to once again, permit myself a departure from what is comfortable and safe. My world continues to broaden.