Should any of you be under the mistaken impression that I’m even a little bit normal, I would like to clear it up once and for all. May I add that this lack of normalcy runs in the family.
I could try to explain the following pictures, but really, it’s not even worth it.
Dad, I knew this would make you proud.
On the bridge overlooking the Ganges River.
At the Taj Mahal.
With elephants in Thailand.
Being dragon food in Thailand.
At Yuyuan Gardens in Shanghai.
And on to Shanghai! Shanghai is a very different city from anywhere else I’ve been on this trip, in that it’s huge and very modern. In fact, until recently, it boasted the tallest building in the world. (I thought it was still the Sears Tower…where have I been?) I’m not sure what the real name of it is, but we like to call it the “bottle opener building”. It’s in the background of this picture.
I really liked Shanghai as a city- it’s still very much Chinese, but it has a hustle and bustle that reminded me of New York or Boston. And let me tell you, the food here is amazing. I loved the Chinese of course, but we also had Vietnamese, Japanese, American, and most importantly of all…lots and lots of chocolate. If you know Lisa Baker, this should not come as a surprise.
As much as I liked the city, the highlight of Shanghai by far was getting to see and catch up with my friends Dennis and Lisa and their almost two-year-old son Will. We had so much fun, and I kept them up way too late many a night catching each other up on life and reminding each other about terribly embarrassing stories from college. There was a lot of laughing.
Lisa and I also spent quite a bit of time out getting massages- they’re so gloriously cheap here! This is the fabulous foot massage we got the other night- and yes, they rub fire on your feet. What??? But if you think that’s weird, ask me later about my “sauna” experience.
I’ve learned a little of quite a few languages during my time overseas, but I can finally say that I’ve become fluent in a second language…Will-speak. I was so happy to finally get to know this little guy. I had a lot of fun joining him in his favorite activities: eating oranges, watching Bob the Builder, watching the “digger” (bulldozer) outside, looking at pictures of himself, avoiding naps at all costs, and possibly the most exciting of all…the chicken dance. Oh, I just loved spending time with this kid!!!
Now the downside of my trip…I found out that although you can take the girl out of India, you just can’t take the India out of the girl. I’ve been pretty miserably sick with what may be a parasite during my time here. It’s been a bit of a damper, but thankfully I wasn’t down for the count for too many days. I did spend a couple of days sacked out on the couch watching a marathon of Arrested Development episodes, but I feel way better and am back going strong. Let’s just hope that was the final round of it. Please, parasite, please don’t come back for more.
I leave today to head back to the States with mixed feelings. I’m so ready to see people I miss from home, and I’m ready to get back to home. At the same time, I’m so sad to leave these people that I love so dearly here!!! Can’t we all just live in the same place?
I can’t believe my 3 months are up! But there will be time for reflecting later. First I’ve got to get through an 11 1/2 hour plane trip ahead of me, followed by a 6 hour layover and another 5 hour flight. Then Christmas!
Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope you all have a fun, restful, special day.
I left Thailand and headed to Kunming, China to enjoy a week with my college friends David and Marianne. I had such a fun time with them- it felt way too short. We ate great food, except for that one time that Marianne tried to get me to eat “pig’s sinew” (gross, Marianne). I forgot just how much I love real Chinese food. I am worried that I will be spoiled and unable to eat American Chinese food after this. (Sorry, Kahula. I know we’ve had a good run, but even the crab rangoons just aren’t cutting it these days.) We took a lot of little strolls around their part of the city, I explored a park nearby, we caught up on life and episodes of 30 Rock…it was fantastic. And it was so nice to share a little Christmas cheer with friends from home. It’s actually cold here, so I’m adjusting to the fact that it is indeed December, and I will no longer be enjoying a perpetual summer. Thankfully, Marianne let me borrow sweaters and coats, as the India/Thailand wardrobe just wasn’t going to cut it. I helped Marianne decorate their Christmas tree, and we listened to lots of Christmas music. There was even a cafe nearby that served peppermint mochas. And they were good. They were “cry tears of joy into your mug” good.
Marianne and I took a little excursion to a market near their apartment to pick up some things for dinner one night…the following are among the things we chose not to buy:
Fish heads…
…and pigs’ feet.
Yep, they sure know how to use every part of the animal in China. We, however, chose to forgo those little adventures and the digestive havoc they would most likely wreak. Despite the obvious exceptions (which also included eels and chicken blood) the market was a cool little place held in an old warehouse. They had about everything you could ever want. And then some.
It was also fun to see David and Marianne getting ready to welcome their first child in February. Our friends’ two-year-old daughter has declared that their baby’s name shall be Dodi Ham, which I wholeheartedly support.
I cannot thank David and Marianne enough for taking in this slightly weary traveler. I loved laughing with you guys. And I can’t wait to see pictures of little Dodi very soon!
Last Sunday I hopped a plane from Kolkata to Chiang Mai, Thailand to spend a week volunteering at the Elephant Nature Park. Due to a nasty stomach virus I caught on the way to Thailand, I spent just as much of the week sulking in my bed as I did frolicking with elephants. And then, thinking it was food poisoning and that it couldn’t be spread, I proceeding to share said stomach virus with half of the other volunteers. And now I probably now have people cursing my name across the globe. Good work, me. Sorry, fellow volunteers. I’m still on a self-imposed guilt trip.
But the sick isn’t the interesting part. Once I recovered and could finally keep some food in me, I had an amazing time. In Thailand, elephants are used for all sorts of work- shows, trekking, and even accompanying their owners in begging on the street. This park is committed to allowing elephants to just be elephants, which I think is much more entertaining than watching them do anything else. As volunteers, we helped feed them, bathe them, make food for them, and clean up after them. You can use your imagination as to what needed cleaning up…it required large shovels. But even the messiest of jobs was really great fun.
The absolute best time was bath time. We would all go down the the river (elephants included). We would throw buckets of water on the elephants and then when they sat down in the water, we would give them a good scrub. They loved it. Afterwards, a couple of them would give us elephant kisses and spray water on us on the beach.
We went on a hike into the more remote area nearby with the elephants and spent the night camping. They love it up there, as they can really roam free. And the Thai countryside is absolutely breathtaking. Dad, seriously. You’ve got to come here. I thought of you and how much you would love it so many times.
There were a few elephants in particular that worked their way into my heart: Jokia, who had been blinded in both eyes by her previous owners, and her elephant friend Mae Perm who never leaves her side. The “teenage” and “toddler” elephants all had naughty streaks in them and they were hilarious to watch. And the babies…they were the cutest.
So it’s official. I love elephants. They are amazingly smart and can be so gentle and sweet. I think maybe I’ll get one instead of a dog. Tim and Al, you’re cool with that, right? Chomperzz will love it.
I’ve spent the past few days back in the city of Chiang Mai, pampering myself with massages and eating good food and visiting some really striking temples. It’s been wonderful.
Mom, I thought of you.
Thailand has been very restful after India. It’s more western, which makes it easier for me to navigate, and the people are wonderfully friendly and welcoming. It’s been a good couple of weeks! I leave tomorrow to head to Kunming, China. I can’t believe I only have three weeks left…
I’ve expressed this to quite a few of you already, but it’s been sad to be here and to get a different perspective on the violence and unrest going on in India and Bangkok. Neither situation has affected me directly, but I’m leaving people and places behind with a heavy heart, as their futures are pretty uncertain. Keep both India and Thailand in your thoughts and prayers. A lot of people will be struggling long after the headlines move on to the next story.
So I wrote about my volunteer work in Kolkata, but not about much else. There are so many other experiences that I could share, like regularly visiting our friendly neighborhood flair-filled chai man, or listening to a nightclub full of Indians screaming the words to Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall”, or getting intentionally “bumped” by a motorbike, or haircut day at Shanti Dan. So many good stories. Remind me to tell them to you later.
However, before I move on to tell you about my wonderful time so far in Thailand, there is one Kolkata story that must be told. It is my essential “Incredible India” story.
There was an international film festival going through Kolkata, and a few of us decided to go. The fact that the movie was among the most hideous things I have ever seen does not factor into this story. But it was. Oh gosh it was bad. I apparently was so horrified by the film that I lost my head and left my camera in the theater. When I realized this later, I was really sad, because it was a birthday present from my dad right before I left for my trip. And it was a nice camera. I had come to grips with the fact that I would never see it again, but I decided that I had to at least check to see if they had it at the theater.
When I arrived and asked if there was a lost and found, I was directed to one security guard after another who couldn’t quite understand what I was asking when I said that I had lost a bag. Not their fault- I can’t expect everyone in a Bengali-speaking region to be able to understand my English mixed with pitiful attempts at Bengali. However, I finally was passed along to a police sergeant who could speak great English. When he heard that I had lost a bag, he looked up and said, “Oh, with a camera?” I was so excited- I couldn’t believe that they had it! He motioned for me to follow him, and as he led me away, his superior officer said (in English so that I could understand) “Make sure she describes it before you give it to her!”
We went to a dark little office behind the screen in the movie theater, and my camera was sitting on the desk. I almost jumped up and down with glee. We walked into the office, and the officer said, “Now if you will please describe the camera.” You know, the camera sitting on that desk right in front of my face. I looked at him, confused, and started to describe the camera that we were both looking at. “Um….it is an Olympus camera…it’s black…it has a strap on it…” The officer intently looked at me, nodding seriously. I trailed off, and he said, “Okay. I am satisfied that it is your camera. I am glad that we have found it. However, I cannot give this camera to you today, as today is a holiday.” What??? I just stared. He told me to come back the following day at 2pm to complete their “procedure” (no other time, as they would be way too busy) and escorted me out of the office.
I returned the following day promptly at 2pm and sat waiting for the officer until 3:30pm. I was brought back to the same office, and there were three men standing there, surrounding my camera, which was still sitting on the desk. They all conferred in Bengali, and then the officer turned to me. “Ma’am, I am going to write a letter from you to the theater, stating that you have indeed received this camera. However, it must be in your handwriting. So you will then copy the letter and sign it.” I asked why I couldn’t just write the letter, but that is not how these things are done. So he wrote the letter and slid it across the desk to me. As English is not his first language, there were a few spelling and grammatical errors that I corrected as I copied the statement word for word onto a new piece of paper. He took it from me, looked it over, and frowned. He said, “No ma’am; I need it to be exactly as I have written it.” I said, “Umm, oh, I just, some of the spelling…” He cut me off with a laugh. “Ma’am, we use British English. Fix it, please.” I bit the inside of my lip in order not to laugh as I crossed out my correctly spelled words and replaced them with misspellings. He took it back, nodded in approval, and looked back at me. “Now, ma’am, if you don’t mind, if you could please write me a thank you letter.” Completely in shock and dying to laugh at this point, I said, “Um, you mean you want to give me your address and…” “No ma’am. If you could write the letter to me right now.” He slid a piece of paper and a pen to me. So I did. I slid it back across the desk to him. And then another man in the room said, “And now if you could write one for me as well.” Oh dear. I wrote the second letter. I was about to die laughing at this point, but I had to match their very serious expressions. The officer then picked up the phone and began speaking in Bengali. I waited, wondering if I was finally done or if there was going to be more. I heard him say the word “American”. Then he began reading, “Dear Sir, I would like to thank you so much…” and he read my entire letter over the phone while I sat there. As I sat there still with my very serious expression. As the inside of my lip started to bleed because I had to bite it so hard in order not to laugh.
Finally, I interrupted and whispered, “Um, can I leave now, or is there more?” He covered the mouthpiece of the phone and waved me along. I thanked everyone in the room, picked up my camera, and walked out of the office. They promptly closed the door behind me, leaving me in the pitch black theater with no help to get out. I felt my way through the dark until I could find a door, and let myself out, laughing the whole way.
Yep. Oh, India. Incredible India.
Now that I’m at a slightly faster internet connection, I can share a few pictures of Kolkata as well…
Crowded into a rickshaw
Kalighat
Teaching English
At Shanti Dan
At least they're honest.
At Kalighat
Roomies
For those of you who have sent worried messages, I’m neither in the midst of the Mumbai bombings nor in the Bangkok protests. I safely made it to Chiang Mai and had a really good week with elephants. Now I’m in the city of Chiang Mai and am loving Thailand. I leave on Thursday to go to Kunming, China, and my flight does not fly through Bangkok, so I should be able to make it there with no problems.
I will write more later (SO many things I could share I hardly know where to start) but I wanted to at least let everyone know that I have been and still am completely safe. Sorry to cause any worries!
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons, I leave Shanti Dan, grab lunch, and head over to Kalighat (or Nirmal Hriday, Mother Teresa’s Home for the Dying and Destitutes) to volunteer from 3-5-ish. Kalighat is a very different experience than Shanti Dan.
In India, many people get sick and waste away on the street until they die there. Mother Teresa opened Kalighat in order to give these people a place to come where they could be loved and die with dignity. Some people get well and are able to leave, but for many, this is not the case. Everyone at Kalighat is very sick. Our job as volunteers is to love them as best we can. The conditions there seem pretty grim when compared to the nursing homes and hospitals that westerners are used to, but in comparison to dying on the street or in the public hospitals, Kalighat is an amazing refuge of mercy for these people.
Kalighat is separated into two parts- one for men and one for women. There are about 50 beds in each area. We have tasks that we do every day- laundry, handing out medicine, serving dinner, and washing dishes. For the laundry, we dunk piles of clothes into vats of disinfectant and water, then we climb into the vats and stomp around on the clothes to get them clean. We rinse them, wring them out, and carry them to the roof to hang them to dry.
For dinner, many of the ladies can feed themselves, but there are a handful who cannot. I usually end up feeding one of these ladies. It is so difficult for them to eat even just a little, and it is such a slow process. But they are so painfully thin that it’s worth sitting there for an hour just to get even half a plate of food into them. There was one woman, Paro, who had refused to eat for three days. I had to sit with her and a Sister and literally fight to get her to eat- her medication was so strong that if she wasn’t eating, it would kill her. It was awful.
Between these tasks, we just walk around and try to do whatever we can to make the ladies more comfortable- spreading blankets, passing out/cleaning up bed pans, giving massages and lotion. There is one blind woman who is severely depressed- Malory. I spend a lot of time singing to her.
There is another woman named Saraswoti who is paralyzed on one side of her body, and she’s not allowed in her bed during the day because she will sleep the entire time. She yells at everyone who walks by to put her in her bed. I always stop, and we have a little argument about the fact that she has to wait until after dinner. She is so funny- she never smiles, and she always yells in this gruff, angry voice. But if you stop and talk to her a little, you realize that she’s not yelling- she always talks like that. I ask her what her name is; she yells, “Saraswoti!” I ask her how she’s doing; she yells, “Bad!” (Sometimes she yells good, but usually bad, because I won’t put her in her bed). She’s been learning my name. I always ask her what my name is, and she makes up something different every day. I tell her that my name is Megan, and she repeats it (still yelling, of course). I come back and ask her again a few minutes later, and some days she remembers. Now sometimes she stops me when I walk by just to hold my hand for a minute. But our exchanges always end with, “Put me in my bed!” “No! After dinner!”
Kalighat is difficult for many different reasons. It’s hard to see people so sick, and often from something that could have been prevented or treated early on with the resources and education that is simply unavailable to them. It’s also really hard to have these women so clearly in pain and to be unable to understand what they’re asking of me. They’re looking intently at me, squeezing my hand, asking me for something in Bengali, and I just can’t understand. And often I think that even if I could understand, the relief they’re looking for is probably more than I’m able to give. It’s hard to be there to help and to look around and have so little that I can actually do. But I’m learning (slowly, because I’m hard-headed) that just sitting and hugging and singing to people can be the best thing I can do. Sometimes sitting and talking with them is just what they need, even if you speak different languages. Most of all, I’m reminded constantly that the best thing I can do is be in prayer for them, which I often forget until I have absolutely nothing else to give.
So we love and we hug and we sing and we pray. And we wash dishes and clothes and bed pans. And we trust that doing these things for the “least of these” is something of great importance.
Oh, Shanti Dan. There is not a place in India that has worked its way into my heart quite like Shanti Dan. Every morning except Thursday and Sunday, I work from about 8-12 at this home for “mentally challenged” women. I arrive and am immediately greeted by multiple shouts of “Auntie!!! Good morning!!! How are you I am fine!” The women call all of the volunteers “auntie”. I help make all the beds, and then until 10, my job is essentially to give the women as much attention as I possibly can. And they will take every bit of attention they can get. Sometimes I cut and paint their nails, sometimes I color with them, sometimes I sing to/with them, sometimes we just “chat”. Whatever they are interested in at the time.
There’s one little old granny who can count to ten in English. That’s pretty much the basis of our relationship- she sees me and launches into a display of her counting prowess. The best part is when she gets to the end: “eight, nine, ten…ZERO!!!!” For some reason, “zero” has become the celebration that comes after ten. It’s so great that I won’t even consider correcting it.
There’s another lady who likes to steal other womens’ coloring pages. I watch her steathily sidle over, and then she grabs their paper and runs. It’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. I always have to grab the paper back and then physically hold her back while I get her a new page for her. She only colors on her own pages for about 30 seconds before losing interest- I think she likes the thrill of the snatch more than the actual coloring. The funniest part about this lady is that she always forgets the word “auntie” and follows me around saying, “Monkey. Monkey.” So now before I give her a new coloring page, we have this little vocab lesson:
Me: (holding the paper behind my back and dodging her attempts to grab it from me) “A mar nam ki?” (What is my name?)
Her: “Ummm…ummm…ummm…Monkey.”
Me: “Na. A mar nam Auntie. A mar nam ki?” (No. My name is Auntie. What is my name?)
Her: “Tu mar nam Auntie.” (Your name is Auntie.)
Me: “Palo! Palo!” (Good! Good!)
Then I give her the paper, and she walks away with it, often saying, “Monkey. Monkey.” Ha.
After a usually very entertaining couple of hours, I have a tea break, and then I have English lessons with Julie. Julie was brought to the home as an orphan when she was 10. She has lived there her whole life- she is now 23. She has no disabilities; she simply has nowhere else to go. She helps around the home- with cleaning and dispensing medicines and dressing wounds. We work on her English for about an hour every day. Her spoken English is very good- we practice her reading and writing. She is incredibly smart, and I love our time. In return, she is teaching me a little Bengali, which is the only reason why I’m able to have any sort of exchange like the “what is my name?” conversation above. She teaches me the basics, like “what is your name?”, counting to ten, please and thank you, and she also teaches me important phrases for Shanti Dan like, “you have to wait”, which is invaluable when I have 7 women crowding around, putting their hands in my face to get their nails painted, or “you have to come with me”, for when they try to make a break for it or sneak into the volunteer room. I’m not as good of a student as Julie is, but I’m learning a lot, and it’s really fun (not to mention helpful) to know when I’m out and about in the city. During all of our lessons, another lady doodles in a notepad and interrupts sporadically to show me her “work”. Does it get more endearing than this? This same lady has taken to smacking me on the butt whenever she walks by me. I’m not sure what the deal is with that, but I’m trying to put a stop to it…
So those are my sweet mornings. It’s a very optimistic picture of it- in addition to the obvious joys, there have been a lot of difficulties about the home that I will be processing for a long time. But overall, I have loved these ladies and have had a really fun time with them.
Details on Kalighat soon…
Okay, so I’ve been fighting with the internet connections here in order to upload some pictures and send a very overdue update, but I have given up. I don’t know why the computer imported the above Kolkata skyline picture to be massive, nor do I know why it is now taking approximately eight million years to upload another one. So this will be one long update with only one picture. Which is the worst kind of blog, I know. I apologize in advance…
I’ve been in Calcutta (which is actually called Kolkata here) for almost 2 weeks. It feels like forever, but forever in a good way. I am staying at a guest house where I share a room with 4 other girls. Originally, I thought that sharing space might be awful, but it’s been the best living situation I could have stumbled upon, and I have had a great time getting to know them. It’s so nice to return home after a long day and to have people there to eat or process or vent or laugh with. They’ve been really fun.
The city of Kolkata is unlike any other city I’ve visited in India. There is a warmth and energy here that I have fallen in love with. I walk through the streets to get to the market or the bus stop, and it is forever busy and full of life. There are markets full of fruits and vegetables and odds and ends. There are vendors cooking food or making chai in carts on the side of the road. There are groups of men playing cards on folding tables. There are people bathing in faucets sticking up on the sidewalks. There are cows and dogs and chickens and cats and babies who are never wearing pants. And always so many people! I am woken up every morning by the Muslim call to prayer that is sung over a loudspeaker that wakes the entire neighborhood. I go to sleep to the sounds of the traffic, still honking at any time of night.
But there’s another side to it all as well. In addition to the sights and sounds I have grown to love, the grit and poverty here are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. There are people everywhere sitting and asking for money for food as I go by. In the busier areas, they follow me for blocks, grabbing at my arms, mumbling the same plea over and over, no matter how many times I say no. Sometimes they ask for money, and sometimes they are women asking for food or milk for babies. I’ve been told by people who live and work in Kolkata that, like in Delhi, there is a gang culture here, and if you give to these people, it will not actually go to them. Even if you buy milk for a baby, they often will return it to the shop and the shop owners will give money. And even if this wasn’t the case, there are so many people and such overwhelming need that I could spend days running from one person to another, buying milk and food and giving one rupee. I also see people- adults and children- just laying flat on the concrete everywhere, sleeping on the sidewalks. There are little tents set up on the sidewalk outside of my guest house, and there is a family that lives there with their children. It is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. There are cultural differences at play here, and differing concepts as to what it means to have “adequate” living arrangements, but coming from the US, it surely is difficult to process and to see on a daily basis. And I’ll be honest, at times, the constant honking is still unnerving, and I want to smack the hood of a car and shout, “We know you’re here! We all know that you’re here!”…but I don’t.
My experience of this city has been very different than the other places I’ve been, because although I am still very much a tourist, I am also a volunteer. So I have long term volunteers showing me the ins and outs of the city. I am eating street food (carefully) and drinking chai from the chai men. I am getting to know the people who sit outside of my guest house each day. And possibly the most adventurous of all, I am riding the buses to get to my volunteer sites. Which often don’t come to a complete stop to pick up or drop off passengers, so you have to run and jump for it. It’s also impossible for me to learn all the routes, so I’m often shouting my destination to the driver, and if he nods that they are going there, I jump on. It’s fantastic.
While I’m here, I’m volunteering with Missionaries of Charity, or Mother Teresa’s, as it is commonly called here. There are multiple homes where volunteers work around the city. I am spending my mornings at Shanti Dan, which is a home for mentally handicapped women. Three afternoons a week, I work at Kalighat, or Nirmal Hriday, the more well-known “home for the sick and dying destitutes”. The work has been tiring and intense and more than I am able to really process. My fear is that it will be so overwhelming that I won’t be able to really allow it to sink in, and when I leave, it will be as if it never happened- as if the reality of these people’s lives is not actually something that I’ve seen and entered into, even if for a short time. However, in spite of all the intensity, I am really glad to be here. I have had some precious (and hilarious) encounters, and I have built little relationships with some of the ladies at both homes that I will cherish.
I’ll try my best to post more about the work I’m doing and the adventures I’m having soon- I just don’t want this post to get so long that nobody will ever get through it! So for now, that’s the Kolkata overview. It’s intense and crazy and gritty and busy and I really am having a wonderful time. I can’t believe that I leave India in a week and a half. I’ve been here for so long; it’s very weird to leave it behind.
Jon and Laura had vacation from work for a festival here called Diwali, so we headed to Palolem Beach in Goa, India, for a short trip to the beach. As you can see, it was beautiful…
A quick comment on being pale in India…as Laura and I would be laying on the beach, enjoying the shade of the palm trees, Indian women would come up and say, “Oh, your skin is so white!” Umm, seriously? I mean, I know it’s pretty obvious; however, complete stranger, you really don’t have to come point it out… But then I realized that it is considered a compliment- pale skin is considered beautiful here. (So now I am seriously contemplating moving here…)
Yes, that is a cow walking off into the sunset on the beach. I guess the cows really are everywhere. In fact, at Palolem, they didn’t just mill about on the roads and go sunbathing on the beach. Oh no, not these cows. They even stopped in at the local restaurants. This is a cow that had wandered into the restaurant where we were eating one night…and he stayed and made himself right at home. Nobody seemed to mind…
We didn’t let the cow bother us, though, because the fresh seafood was so good. You walked up to these platters of freshly caught fish, chose which one you wanted and how you wanted it cooked. It was pretty great.
Not so great…eating fish eyeballs for good luck. Gross, Laura. Just plain gross.
We had a really good time enjoying the waves and the sun setting over the water and the walks and the good seafood. I kept looking around and thinking, am I really here??? Oh, and there was also a Baskin Robbins. Heavenly.
Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I catch a plane to Calcutta. Or Kolkata. Or however you’re supposed to spell it. It will be a whole new experience there. If you’re of the praying sort, pray for me to find some good folks to work with, play with, eat with, explore with, and debrief with after what I expect will be some pretty intense experiences. My internet access will probably be pretty limited, but I’ll try to keep you posted as best I can!
I have been so thankful to be able to stay with Jon and Laura here in Delhi- thank you guys for being so hospitable and for letting me stay in your home for such a long time! It has been so much fun to catch up with you, Laura- I will miss seeing you every day!!!
