Are some more guilty?

In my quiet time this morning I was reading in Luke 13. I've started a program to read through the Bible in a year, Crosswalk sends me daily readings (from NT, OT and currently the Psalms). If I take it online, there are some other cross references available. What a blessing to be able to get some of the history behind what I'm reading (especially while my books are in storage). Makes me appreciate more the freedoms I have in the US and the books available in my mother tongue. But I'm getting away from the point.

Luke 13:1-17
Repent or Perish
1 Now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. 2 Jesus answered, "Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? 3 I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish. 4 Or those eighteen who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them--do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? 5 I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish."

I needed to research a little about the Galileans who were murdered...or should I say I wanted to. It flows from Jesus' previous words about repenting before you are thrown into prison...could death be prison?

Anyway, it was more the ending of his words that spoke to me. How often do we as Western believers automatically assume that catastrophe hits the areas that are furthest from God? I recall these words being said of the 2004 Tsunami or when New Orleans was destroyed by Katrina. And again with the earthquake that devastated Haiti. Jesus very plainly points out that they are no guiltier than the rest of us. We are all sinners...sin is sin and there are no varying degrees. The grace comes in the repentance and accepting that Jesus has paid the price for our sinfulness. And because of this, we don't have to fear death...we know where our place in eternity is.

Train 'ventures

I had this little boy (or was it a girl? - the name was what I've heard females called, but the child was dressed like a boy. Of course, in India that is not a very good indicator) in my compartment the entire 9+ hour train ride. He was 3 and his mom was very talkative. Some cultural background is needed here...in India there is a tendency to NOT discipline kids until the hit about 5 years old. Are you starting to get a feel for my experience? A precious faced little one that is a bit fascinated by the white faced Auntie and wants her attention and a mom that is hungry to talk and doesn't tell her child to behave. If I didn't play with him he'd throw things at me or pull on my clothing or try to take my things that were there. I was exhausted when I got on and was really hope to get in some good naps - which is what Indians typically do on a train - it's like a sleeping disease for most.

There was a short time that the child napped, but the mom found it impossible to be quiet. Finally an older man joined our area and he talked a bit, but wanted to eat and then lay down. I went to an upper rack (remove any image that just left in your head) and completely enjoyed the escape, until the A/C kicked into high gear. I was freezing. When the man woke up, I returned to the terror below. Just when I had had enough something happened, or should I say nearly happened. The little boy was misbehaving and nearly fell off the seat. Scared him into a good cry, which in turn distracted him away from needing my attention. Made me feel a little evil to relish in it so much. But he was completely fine, he was grabbed before he hit the ground. I promise.

It was so nice to get to my destination and find familiar faces waiting for me. I'd made it to my destination! Huge exhale. I am now in my temporary home. With all it's imperfections, it's a wonderful place. There is a large rooftop that my door opens up to, the constant sounds of birds, cars, people and dogs. The sun is shining and I can currently hear the sounds of worship in a local church. It's not of the people that I'm here to be involved with, but it stirs up reminders of my time nearly 10 years ago when I lived in another part of India. :)

1st Indian Moving Experience

I’m sitting on a train to Jaipur, land of my new home. I’m feeling exhausted and excited, and a little uncertain (okay, more than a little). But I know it’s where I’m supposed to be in this journey of life that I’m on. Sometimes it’s such a strange journey.

After 4 months in the US I was able to return to India.

A new gal had joined the group in my city, taking care of kids. And as often happens, singles draw together. Because of some visitors, she was staying at my house…I loved having her, confirming my need for a roommate. Not only were there great conversations, but she also helped me with the final packing, pushing me when I didn’t know what to do.

Then the packers came. I had no real idea what to expect, accept that this company was very good. Not knowing if they would be on time or possibly early, I set off to my house about an hour earlier than the scheduled arrival and waited. And waited. Nearly 3 hours of waiting before they arrived – four men, plus some guy who stayed down at the truck. They assessed, asked questions and got to work. Initially scurrying around like ants. I walked into the kitchen area to find my cleaning supplies and some food items all getting packed…pretty sure those weren’t items I pointed out. I realized I needed to constantly be making my rounds.

After some time I was ready for the orange and banana I’d packed. Where was my bag? Despite their telling me no one else had seen it and it certainly didn’t get packed, it never showed up. I really hope I don’t find it packed in with my sofa cushions.

Then they slowed down to a crawl. After a 45-minute chai break they slowly followed each other around from room to room. They’d ask me what else needed packed and I’d show them. We continued like this for a while. I was so ready for them to be gone. But at the same time, I was blessed by a local friend who spent nearly 8 hours with me; helping with some negotiations. One big one was the final payment…there was no record of the deposit a friend had made. After several phone calls it was all taken care of and they were finally on their way, nearly 12 hours after I’d arrived at my house. Seriously, I didn’t have that much there for them to move.

The next day was cleaning day. On my way over more people stopped me on the street. Then my landlord invited me for dinner that night. And then his wife gave me some slippers she’d knitted for me. As I sat in my house all alone, the tears began to roll. This has been my home for two years and so many wonderful memories happened here. I know there will be more; they’ll just be different.

Two Wheelers in Mussoorie

I'm sure this applies to more than the area I'm currently in, but since this feels more like my "coming of age" in living with a scooter (or in my case, it's a scooty because it's specifically made for the female gender and that gives is the "y" ending) I am focusing on it here. :)

Today I made the ride down to get "petrol". I used to be so fearful of this drive. There are two routes to take. One is shorter, but takes you through the most heavily traveled area. You get caught behind the buses and monster trucks spewing gagging exhaust, crowds of school children being released, random monkeys, dogs and people aimlessly wandering the street - but it's shorter when these aren't such an issue, it's all about timing. The other route is considerable longer, winding through a precariously narrow road, less auto traffic - this is the road I was run off. Both roads have horrible pot holes, so you need to be not only watching what's on the roads, but the dangers in the road. It was early enough, so I chose the shorter road.

In India the horn is part of driving as breathing is to living. The problem with this is people have become so accustomed to it that they aren't fazed. Recently it became more apparent that the horn really isn't used in an attempt to get people to move, it's more to let them know you are there. Especially when going around a curve. There is one poor guy (a foreigner) who always seems to be at the same curve when I am driving. I honk - in an attempt to let those on the other side of the curve know that I am coming and to clear the road. This guy thinks I'm honking at him! If he's on the right side of the road he crosses to the wrong side and always gets frustrated with me. Unfortunately, the oncoming traffic, whether on foot or tire, don't always respond properly and I've had a few near collisions.

Helmets in India are required for the driver only. I suppose that has to do with the fact that a family of 5 would never fit on a motorcycle if everyone was wearing a helmet. But the way helmets are worn is crazy! The chin straps are seldom latched...probable wouldn't stay on if you needed it to in a crash. Sometimes the helmet is barely on the driver's head. Sometimes passengers carry the helmet, instead of the driver wearing it. I guess technically it is on the bike, just not the driver. Hard hats have been seen in place of a real helmet.

Apparently, women are exempt from all these "laws". Not really sure why. Could be because in Islamic law they are worth 1/2 a man. Could be that to ticket a women means you need to actually ticket the male that oversees her. I'm still trying to learn this culture, and it does vary from place to place, so it will be an ongoing task.

Oh how I love this adventure and doing in on my two wheeler.

Bad computer

Well, not sure what it is that's bad, but I do know the computer won't start. Well, that's not entirely correct either. It starts, I log in and the then another log in screen comes up that doesn't like my password. So, needless to say, I'm quite bored, going to sleep around 9 pm and waking before 6 - of course I force myself back to sleep for a little. I finished the one easy book I brought and while learning language am not sure I can handle the other book - feel too spent in the evening.

On a cool note, I rode downhill about 7 kilometers to fill my scooty with some fuel. I was near terrified, but knew I needed to overcome this. I mean, what am I going to do for the next 4 months. Good thing I'm waking early, huh? That's when the traffic is minimal and it was actually a great ride. Sorta liberating in many ways. On my way back up I realized the hold fear can have on me and that with God's help, we can push through it. Made me question some other areas in my life that might be limited by unsaid or unrecognized fears. When I came home I have a cool prayer time and really felt delivered from some spirits that have had a hold on me. Exciting.

Gosh, I had so much to say the day my computer whacked out. It is gorgeous up here. The weather is warm during the day and cool at night (could have brought some warmer clothes. But I'm making it work. School feels really good. I have a confidence that I didn't have last time I was here and I have my two favorite teachers. I killed a scorpion next to my bed a couple mornings ago - little freaky, but not as if I haven't ever faced one in Vegas. Definitely first one in India. There is a dog on the grounds of where I'm living, Ricky. He is adorable and loves my attention. Sure does make me wish I had a dog of my own. Some day!

What a queer afternoon

It all started with a phone call to a friend, asking her if she'd like to go with me to buy a helmet (I know, some of you are breathing a sigh of relief) and get a duppata (the scarf that is part of the outfit I wear every day) hemmed. We set a time and because she is seldom ready on time, I was slow about getting ready. Not even three minutes after the scheduled time I was to go to her house she's calling me. Odd. But within minutes we were on our way.

As we were leaving our neighborhood, we passed a house with people running around, wailing, one woman making a scene as she's dialing her cell (seemed a little exaggerated) and then men running from a rickshaw. Our guess was that someone either just died or was having a serious medical emergency. It was an odd sort of thing to witness. I was a bit surprised because my friend is a nurse, and well, in the US, someone trained in medicine would have stopped to help. Heck, having been CPR certified I would have stopped. But on we went.

We stopped at a motorbike/scooty showroom and were escorted to the back to see their helmets. I was so glad I wasn't doing this alone - definitely a man's world back there. I found a simple matte black scooty helmet - looks like the old smaller helmets that Harley owners wear. Here are a few shots of me being silly.











After we got that taken care of, we headed to a beauty parlor, she was getting her eyebrows threaded (I had just had mine done in Kathmandu). I really do enjoy this place. It is run by Muslims and most of the women women in all covered up in the burkas for threading and hair cuts. Indians really don't like much facial hair, so they get their upper lip threaded, their forehead, cheeks, chin...I wish more women worked there, it would be great to just hang out. One lady sitting next to me was asking me how I was. Her friend was in the chair getting a lot of hair cut and looked nervously at us all the time.

Next stop, my friend wanted to buy some shoes for her sister, and we were both looking for some white shoes. She took me to this large shoe store and as I looked around, the guy helping us pulled out ever white shoe he could find. Here's the problem, ever since returning from Kathmandu, my feet have been super swollen - the look like little piggy feet. Indians aren't as concerned if your feet hang over the sides or the end, but I am. And it was nearly impossible to find something that was fitting. Eventually we both bought the same white shoe, but the excitement really started as we were trying different pairs on.

A guy came in that she introduced as her friend. Hmmmm. Her friend? I was polite, said hello and acted like it was no big deal. He was making sure I walked in the shoes, looked in the mirror, really very helpful and interested in the process. We purchased our shoes and then went to the guy on the street with a sewing machine to have my duppata hemmed.

On the way over, I said, "So, tell me about your friend." Her reply, "Well, actually, he's my boyfriend." I knew it! Scandal and now I'm in over my head. How fun to be included. She met him on some marriage website and to be honest, I really like what I've seen. I suggested we go out for a cold drink somewhere, so we did.

As he asked me what I was doing in India and I shared a bit of my vision, he was somewhat critical. But in a way that was refreshing. He wasn't afraid to tell me there would be challenges, not like everyone else that just tells you what you want to hear. I think he had some valid points, but he also wished me the best. At the end, he gave me his business card and said if you need any help, let me know. I quickly said, "Yes, when I need some encouragement, I'll call you." We all started laughing, but I did tell him I appreciated his honesty. He's worked in China for about 3 years and has brought his import business back to this country. I got some clarification on some things, so all in all it was a great meeting. And then, my friend left with him to go to another spot to look for the shoes for her sister.

When the rickshaw brought me home, I had him stop a ways away - leaving him in an area where there is more traffic. I gave him the proper amount and he starts yelling at me that it should be double. Not even when I ride with Darla and the three kids from the exact same place is it that much, so I was straight forward with him. He kept it up, wouldn't take my money and I finally tucked it into the seat I'd been sitting on, pointed my finger at him and said, "Do not cheat me!" He shut right up and I walked away. What a great feeling that one was.

Now, what's for dinner? Something that includes the veggies I bought earlier and the amazingly juicy fruit, a loquat, I bought next to the guy with the sewing machine.

Day one in Nepal

Not a very original title name, but take what you get. :)

Earlier today Anna went to the Indian Embassy to get her visa to return. Right off they told her she needed to come back in 2 months. :( That means she won't be returning with me. Furthermore, that means I'll be returning my myself. I'm not especially happy about this, in some ways it makes me uneasy. But we talked about it being a possibility before I left and with three people, that means one way or the other, there is a risk that someone is going to be left alone. Personally, I would rather be left alone in Nepal than have to travel by bus to India and by train across India. But, seeing that flying to Delhi isn't much of an option, and I can take a plane close to the border...oh gosh, these are decisions I'll need to make soon and no one else can make them for me.

In the meantime, I'm going to try not to focus on what I can't change and enjoy the time away. The weather is beautiful, the food is endless and I've talked with some interesting Nepali people. I have to admit, some things that are especially apparent in the tourist area, disturb me to my core. The street kids, with glazed over eyes. The people who are selling things, some cheap knock-offs, fake gems and some beautifully crafted items, all have a story. I can still so see myself living here some day. For now, I can hope that my attitude shares of the hope I have.

Journal Entry March 20

Right now I'm so filled with a joy beyond words. The journey so far has been amazing. I contribute that to two things, God and great travel companions.

I met up with Jess and Anna at the railway station around 9:15 pm and our train arrived by 9:20. Earlier in the day I checked on our PNR status (lets you know if you have seats and where) and got our seating (previously we were on a wait list, though we were confirmed) and was excited that we were all together. First yeah God! In our compartment were two very nice older men, very polite and just plain sweet.

There was a lot of tossing and turning that night, but we did all manage to get some sleep. Wake-up on the train is always a long process - Indians were already sleeping when we got on and some didn't wake until nearly 10 am! We brought plenty of food, so when a guy came by with chai we ate breakfast. It was a good thing we brought food because not one person came by with any food to sell.

For the most part, the trip was uneventful. Our travel companions left early, one before we woke. Two ladies sleeping in the aisle seats had taken up 1/2 the space under our seats with their luggage. I talked with the daughter and she said she is getting married in June, so they had been shopping for that. Also, she is a doctor and she needed a lot of books that were not available in her city. There were also two little boys who came to talk to us. One was about 13 and his 9 year old brother. At the age of 2, the younger boy started watching Ram somebody (a yogi) and learned some of his "moves". One included rolling his stomach and the other sucking his stomach in so that the sides of his abdominals cave in and his middle section (from this chest to the pelvis, about a 2" width) was rock solid. A little freaky, but quit a feat.

Albert's driver met us at the station in Raxaul and when we got to the car, Reema and Rhea (Albert and Pushpa's two daughters) as well as two of the children from the orphanage were waiting. It was wonderful.

Jess forgot to bring passport pics, so we stopped to get some taken. We had decided earlier to go through immigration that night, in case there were delays in the morning, so we were a little pressed for time. But I did have time to stop by and see Pushpa and the other kids. And what a surprise to see one of Pushpa's sisters and brother-in-law there!

On the Indian side of the border, the immigration office was closed. They had just left and were able to make a quick return. The guys (I've never seen that many there) were very good natured, joking, asking when we were coming back to India, where we'd been, what we thought of India, etc. I felt the best I've ever felt at the border crossing, able to joke back and keep it all lite. When all was said and done, we were processed with out the dreaded mandatory 2 month out stamp. :) Yea God!

Onto Nepal. We were now venturing on two rickshaws, the cars were not allowed over without paying a relatively high price. Immigration was also closed. We sat out front with the Nepali Army guys and they had called someone from immigration and were told it would be about 10 minutes. Wow, I didn't expect them to return. [The stars were out and as I gazed at them I marveled at how awesome God is.] Again, it was a group of guys that arrived. The main guy was hilarious, as he asked us for something for coming back, wanting to know where we wanted our visa sticker, etc. I told him he should be a comedian - they all laughed.

When we got to the hotel we gave the two boys who helped make sure we got in the right place (Ashish and Prikash) a handful each of American caramels (they have no idea what a treat they are, but they were so excited by them). We got check in and found the restaurant had already closed for the night - we knew we weren't in India any more! But they offered to bring us some food and let me tell you, that chicken sandwich was the best.

Jess and Anna slept well, me - not so much. My room was active with mosquitoes; not sure why I didn't remember repellent, but I did have some Avon Skin So Soft, which did a good job.

At 7 am they brought us chai and a message the two boys from Raxaul were waiting. How sweet, they came to help us get on the bus. And, by 8 am, that bus was underway, with us on it.

The then it's been fairly smooth (thought bumpy, as my hand writing will testify). I am so enjoying the ride. I have a shotgun seat and Jess & Anna are behind the driver. This will be so helpful when those curves start up. Two unexpected sights - a guy on a bicycle pulling a cart with some dead animal (maybe a cow or donkey). And the other was a motorcycle with a pole hanging 1.5 feet off either side of the cycle (width wise), tied to it, by their feet were 20+ live chickens.

Festival of Colors

It's that time of year again. A day when I stay secluded in my house and am quite content observing from the balcony. The merriment making starts early and I knew my milk would be delivered earlier than normal (my milkman is Muslim and doesn't participate, so he wants to get off the streets as soon as he can in hopes of not being "hit"), so I needed to be dressed and ready.

What am I talking about you ask? Holi, of course. As I was enjoying a cup of coffee on my balcony, camera in hand, I watched as some of the neighborhood kids came ringing door bells, trying to lure their friends out and smear colors on them. Here's a shot I got them to pose for.



After they left I picked up the newspaper and looked over the headlines. Two things (no, they weren't really headlines, they were page 2 and 4) grabbed my attention. The first was an article about Bhaang, drink made up from the female cannabis plant, and mainly enjoyed on Holi. It shared stories from various Bollywood "heros" glorifying the consumption of this drink. The complexity of this country is so deep, sometimes I'm not sure what to think. Alcohol is condoned (though sold right down the street) and drinking cannabis is expected, at least once a year.

The next article talked about the dangers of the chemicals in the various colors:

Black...lead oxide...Kidney failure, learning disability
Green...copper...eye allergy, puffiness, temporary blindness
Purple...chromium iodide...Bronchial asthma, allergies
Silver...aluminium bromide...Cancer
Prussian Blue...iron and cyanide ion...skin allergy
Red...mercury...Skin canter, mental retardation

As if the issues of the bhaang intoxicated people wasn't enough to keep me from wanting to participate! My Muslim friends stay indoors as well, so I'm in good company.

Here are some links to video's of previous Holi celebrations, one of my favorites is this BBC video that shows it's a family celebration. Oh what the heck, here's another one from a Bollywood classic (or so it says)


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2PzxjTFGn0

First Time Out...

Wow, it's not even 8 am and I've already had a partial cup of coffee, left the house for about an hour and am ready to blog about it with you! Those who know me better would probably be a little frightened by this, as i don't often do anything too early in the morning and with good reason, as you'll soon see. but this early wake up has been in the plans for a while. One that was both anticipated and a little dreaded.

You see, I got myself a scooty. Well, in all honesty, God got me the scooty. Some very special friends gave God, who gave me the finances needed to purchase it. This in itself was a journey.

Not long after I moved here, my friend Dan brought home different flyers and catalogs for scooties. I knew it would be beneficial in getting me around, saving me so much time, allowing me to see people I might not have time to see, but seriously, driving in India had me a little terrified. The rules of the road are there are no rules. Which isn't exactly true, but to the untrained eye, that's exactly how it appeared. So, when I was in a rickshaw, I would observe these "laws" of the road. Funny thing is, they are always changing. And pedestrians had no set rules either. And the cops don't really enforce any of these except at a few random street crossings. Now that I think about it, I ought to see if there's some sort of driving manual, not that it's strictly adhered to and not that many people have ever read it. Crazy when you think about the fact that that seldom happens in the US.

In September I was feeling a little pressure to get 'er done, so after prayer, I invited a few others to pray with me through this and God answered with the go ahead. Though, I didn't really sense the timing was completely right. I went to one of the showrooms and the color I wanted was right there! That must have been a sign. But I wouldn't have the money in hand for two more weeks! I put down a small deposit and when I went back for it, it had been sold. In fact, there were none in that color to be found. I figured I'd wait. So I waited, and waited, and waited. I was now ready, but that color had not returned to my city and possibly would never return.

I came to the realization that if it had been an actual scooty, and not the cash that had been given to me, I would be tickled with it regardless of the color. I needed to get over myself and just pray that there was a scooty available, period. I called (or my friend Iffat actually did, so that there would be no language misunderstandings) and they had an orange one in the showroom with red and black coming the following week. Orange was my second choice and I was excited by that. So off I went with my male friend (it's always helpful to have male around in this country, besides, I wasn't ready to drive it on those busy streets), made the payment, took care of the paperwork - all in less than 1/2 hour. They have a different person for each step of the phase - as in, one person came up and took care of one thing, someone else came and entered it in the computer, someone else had me sign something different, someone else came and gave me this book, someone else gave me another paper - it was almost humorous. When it was all said and done, we couldn't leave with it because there wasn't sufficient proof of address for the insurance people. But all I needed to do was wait for a call that evening saying it was all okay.

I waited and then I called. My friend brought it home the next day. With one thing or the other wrong, I didn't really get much of a chance to get on it and start practicing. I sat on it in our courtyard. I even started it up. But there is construction going on next to us and those guys stare at me enough as it is - I had no desire to stumble through my first experience of driving a scooty in front of them.

My neighbor also has a scooty which she is afraid to drive (partly because she witnessed her friend having an accident on it), so I mentioned that we should practice together. She bit. But she wanted to go out early in the morning before there was much traffic. Thus, todays early wake up.

First things first, I made my cup of coffee, which I decided to take into the bathroom with me. I'm sure this might disgust a few people, but I really do have a clean bathroom and I needed to be getting ready and time was limited. But in a quick move to dump something in the trash, I lifted the lid without even thinking about the coffee cup in close proximity and knocked it over, onto the marble floor. Marble + falling ceramic mug = broken mug and loss of coffee. Luckily the coffee was nearly finished, but it was a new mug. This is why I usually sit and enjoy my coffee without much movement and give it some time for the caffeine to work it's way through my system. But there was no time to cry about the spilt coffee, I had places to go, people to meet, things to do.

We drove out of our neighborhood - which I mentally was not really ready for, or so I thought and went to this police academy grounds. After driving past joggers (men), walkers (women), marchers (cadets of both male and female persuasion) we got to this street that goes in a big square. We drove it bother directions a number of times and returned a different route, on a busier section. It was exilerating. And I think really good for Iffatt too, when we got home she said she is going to drive to her coaching time this afternoon. Maybe I'll drive to go get eggs in the neighborhood. Ha!

But now, I'm feeling tired. I guess I'll have another cup of coffee, which I never do. Can't go back to sleep. And besides I'm trying to Skype a friend in Vegas - if we could only stay connected.