Valdelavilla

I'm literally in the middle of nowhere in Spain, participating in an English immersion week for Spaniards who want to improve their conversation skills.. My job is to talk to people. In exchange I get my room and board paid for in a beautiful villa in northern Spain for a week. Not a bad deal. I have booked my flight back to Liverpool for May 2nd so that I have another two weeks here and so far, have made no firm plans. One option is to do some walking on the Camino trail since I am only steps away from it. Another option is to go to Portugal and walk the trail there. I do want to visit Barcelona for a few days and learned of a cycling tour of the city which I would really love to do. There are a few people here who drove to this place and have offered to drop me off somewhere and that also intrigues me. It would be an adventure to just get dropped off in some obscure place and see what happens!
In the meantime, I'm hanging out with 7 Spaniards who are becoming proficient at speaking English and 14 english speaking Anglos from Canada, USA, Scotland, England, New Zealand, Korea, and India! The Indian fellow, Manish, is conducting a lesson on Bollywood dancing and somehow I have found myself signed up! We have to give a performance to the rest of the group.....I wonder at my profound inability to say "no". Some things never seem to change.
I am loving being back in Spain....it is such a wonderful country - so beautiful, so rich in the culture. The food is great and I am trying to remember the Spanish I learned last fall, even though I am not allowed to speak a word of it. I am committed to learning Spanish when I go home and will enrol in a proper class, possibly when I move to the coast.
Despite all these wonderful things I'm doing, a part of me is still in Kolkata and in some ways, I wish I was still there. I think it means that someday, I am meant to go back. His will be done.....
In the meantime, I shall go and practice my dancing with the other 11 people who signed up for the big performance tonight!
I am making a list of unforgettable experiences and I think this will be one of them!

Scotland

Before I left for Africa, my aunt Angela and cousin Gemma decided to go up to Scotland where my other cousin Ruth and her family -  husband Roland, and children Mabel, Barney, and Monty were going to be glamping for the week. They asked me if I'd like to join them...of course I would!! 
The drive up from Liverpool through Carlisle to Edinburgh took about 5 hours....a long drive by British standards. We got to the town of North Berwick where we were met with great warmth by Ruth and her family. They are staying at a farm nearby and "glamping" in a tent/cabin on the farm. It's absolutely beautiful here! The farm is within walking distance to the North sea and it goes on for miles, so lots of great long walks.
It is so strange being in a country where everything is so green and there are more sheep than people! It is lambing season now and there are hundreds of adorable lambs gambolling in the fields and feeding off their mothers. I now understand the phrase "lamb of God", they are so innocent and vulnerable and devastatingly CUTE!
At the campsite the farmers have put pens which house lambs, goats, chickens, bunnies and geese. The children are having the best time taking care of the animals, feeding them and letting them out to play. I kept thinking of my kids and how much they would have loved this when they were little.
Long walks on the beach followed by great meals (why does everything taste better when you're camping?) and sitting around the fire. Lots of games of rummicub and arguing over the rules, a seemingly necessary aspect to family games nights! Roland and I and the children went on a bike ride - it was a gloriously sunny day and I so enjoyed the fresh air and exercise.
We had a wonderful Chinese meal in the town of North Berwick, compliments of my Auntie Angela. It's a cute little village and she and Gemma are staying in a fancy hotel by one of the many golf courses in the area. I sometimes wish I was a golfer, and I remember with great fondness the time when my dad and I went to Scotland and I was his caddy. Such great memories. 
On our last evening, Roland treated us to a great pub meal and when i saw that there was sticky treacle pudding on the menu, i decided on a simple bowl of soup with my main course, dessert. Unimaginably delicious!
On the last day, Ruth, Mabel and I booked a hour of horseback riding  with the farm down the road. I was really nervous but the woman, Carole, was great. Stern, but great. I told her the last time I rode something it was a camel in India, and it wasn't very comfortable! She looked at me with slight disdain and said horses are different. I knew then that I was dealing with a serious and devout Horse Lover and I needed to show respect. It was a magical experience and "Flame" and I got along quite well, although Ruth could tell you a different story....! Mabel has had some riding lessons so was a pro and had the distinct pleasure of being allowed to gallop on the beach which was very exciting for her...and her Mum. I was just happy that I got to a trot and didn't fall off the horse! It was a really fun experience and I loved it. The only down-side was that I forgot that i am very allergic to horse hair and neglected to take an antihistamine before getting on it. At the end of it, my eyes were swollen, itchy and red, I was sneezing and streaming, but it was still worth it!
I had such an amazing time with this lovely family and have fallen in love with the three children. I will see them again before I go home....but wonder how I will do without them when I am far away in Canada.
Back on the road to Liverpool to have a meal and visit with Sue and Terry before my flight to Madrid tomorrow.
More adventures to come!

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