Kolkata was our third and final stop in India. Emma and I spent a week volunteering with the Sisters of Charity - and you know how people say it is kind of amazing and stuff? ALL TRUE THINGS. One more week there and my parental units would have received a phone call that would have gone something like this:  "Hey, Ma. Hey, Pa. Send Timmy a peace sign emoji because I have found the MOTHER SHIP. I have found MY PEOPLE. I have decided to join MY SISTERS FROM THE HIGHEST MISTER."

After registration and going to all the wrong Nun places ohmygosh (there's like a zillion), here's what a normal day looked like:

We would walk to the Mother House at 5:30 a.m. with a cinnamon roll (or two) in hand (because #breakfastfoodnotinchinerr), to get to Mass in time. I had never been to Mass before, so the fact that my first Mass ever was a floor above Mother Teresa's tomb was kind of like WHAT the WHAT. (insert cool guy emoji). At first, the unfamiliarity of it all made me a little uneasy: Do I stand? Sit? Kneel? What is happening now? But as time goes on, the liturgy becomes more familiar and more meaningful and the atmosphere of that room is overwhelmingly peaceful and sacred. And the fact that the Nuns SING LIKE ANGELS makes all your feels FEEL to infinity. 

After Mass, the Sisters give all the volunteers a light breakfast downstairs and then after everyone says a prayer together, the doors open up and INDIA happens. You stalk people who are going to the same place you are and just follow them onto buses, tuk-tuks, down sketchy alleys, up random flights of stairs. 

There a many different houses you can volunteer at, but we chose to volunteer at Daya Dan, which is a home for kids who are physically and/or mentally disabled. A normal morning went something like this: first make the beds, then go to the roof to do laundry by hand, or, if you are our Taiwanese friend Ming Ta, by foot. He was the washing machine and loved stomping around in his bucket of suds. Rinse, ring, hang. These sisters have the system down to a T - and they go fffaaasstt. Then around mid-morning, we would do some PT with some of the kids with cerebral palsy. After PT, maybe an activity and then you help feed the kids lunch. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it is, and by the time you end your shift at half past noon, you is TIRED.

One of the best parts about volunteering is that you meet so many different people from all around the world. Young people, old people, religious, non-religious, Buddhists, Hindus, Protestants. A Taiwanese guy who has found the fountain of youth, a Mexican triathlon champion, a professional dancer from Japan, a nurse from Lebanon, two crazy smart girls from Peking University. THE WORLD AND ITS PEOPLE ARE SO COOL, Y'ALL.

One of the days, the kids of Daya Dan held their own Mass and I sat against the wall and watched as they sang and shook tambourines with gusto and lined up to receive communion. It was a particularly sacred morning for me. Much of the conversation in Western Christian culture revolves around what worship is, what ministry and service is or what it should be. There are boxes and bullet points and spreadsheets. Those are important conversations but when it becomes the only conversation, it can feel overwhelming and distracting.

So, for me, during that morning Mass with the Daya Dan kids, the simplicity of worship and ministry and service felt like the first moments of a slow, Saturday morning: clear, steady, and profound. Worship and the million different ways it can be, I'm finding, can take us by surprise. It has the power to change us if we surrender to it. It can change us if we are open to it being a little different than what we thought it would be. 

There a zillion cool things to do in Kolkata, but Emma did most of the exploring because the last few days I got a stomach bug and I was pretty immobile. But thankfully, the last day we were there, we went to check out Freeset - a business that employs women who have chosen to leave the sex industry. Our time there was amazing.  What Freeset does is so sustainable and intentional and effective. Most of the women, the manager told us, still live in the brothels, because that is essentially their home. I think this is amazing. They are such a light in the darkness, these women. I LOVE THE GOSPEL. 

 

BBAB Travel Tips:

A note about Mass at the Mother Ship: Promptness is next to Godliness. The Nuns are nice, but if you are late, they won't let you in. Also, if you are tall, you must get there extra early to find a spot in the back. 

 

If you simply get there on time and sit in the middle-ish, a Nun will tap you on the shoulder and say, "Ahem. I can't see" and then you will find yourself in the wildest conundrum of HOW SHALT I RESPOND TO THIS SISTER as moving to a different spot is not an option. Sorry?  You will say as you hunch down because YOU ARE IN MASS. 

 

Where to Stay: Hotel Galaxy

hotelgalaxy.kol@gmail.com 

Best location, decent price, and literally two steps away from BEST CHAI GUY EVER.
You will need to e-mail them beforehand to check availability/prices. You can't book online. (At least to my knowledge). Only via e-mail.

Momma T's Info: http://www.motherteresa.org/07_family/volunteering/v_cal.html

Emma and I met up with the Tabor team in Hyderabad and spent the new few weeks traveling with 15 college students and their fearless and wonderful leader, Reverend Professor Dr. Del Gray Sir.

I could write about what we did there, because each day was purposeful and important, but the story I want to share is what is was like for me to be back on this trip, not as a college student, but as an assistant helper of sorts. (self-title).

In January 2012, I traveled outside of the US for the first time ever ohmygosh, and God used each day in India back then to change the trajectory of my life into what it is now. 

somewhere in a village

Five years ago, I was more malleable than ever. Life had stripped me down to the bone, and senior year felt like an unexpected starting over when everyone else seemed to be starting out. I didn't like the idea of that, of course, but the starting over was what I needed more than any thing. God's grace healed me in many undeserved ways that year, and India was no exception. The trip overwhelmed me and would become a huge reason why I would eventually move to China. 

Traveling, for me, is what stirs my affections for the Lord. When I get on a plane to go to a new place, to experience a different culture, it's like putting all my feels and affections in a blender and hitting the puree button. I become the consistency of baby food. Mush. Absolute mush.

And this trip, 4 years after the first, gave me a glimpse of who I was then, in light of who I am now. It's an incredible contrast; a contrast full of grace and God's sovereignty and the kind of life I would have never imagined for myself, but am grateful I have. It's a contrast that can use squatty potties like a freaking boss; it's a contrast that can go days without showering; it's a contrast that can sleep night after night on a table ohmygosh. It's a contrast that sits with a bunch of shy tween girls at the most beautiful marble Hindu temple as the sun goes down. This trip and its people affirmed and encouraged me a lot, which was so needed because words of affirmation is my love language and also IS SO NOT A THING  in China.

Emma and I's host brothers-from-other-mothas: Melki and Bin. They came to the airport at 3 a.m. to see us off, OHMYGOSH. #tina

 And toward the end of our time together, some of the senior students were talking about their futures and the question mark that seemed to tirelessly hover above that daunting word. I chuckled to myself during this conversation, because for me, it is a conversation that hasn't resolved, even four years later. I am doubtful it ever will. I wish I could have given them grandmotherly advice: that it would all work out, be fine, don't worry, blahblahblah.

 

But instead I told them what I wished someone had told me: If you are serious about following Jesus, about obeying him, you're headed for a life that you didn't really have in mind. He will lead you to different places, harder places, but infinitely better places, sanctifying places, and ultimately - the most glorifying places. Places where you won't have a clue, places where you have to surrender your insatiable need to know. 

And these places are the best places, the most surprising places, and definitely the last handful of places you ever thought you'd find yourself.

 

 

But you do. 

 

You find yourself here, at this place and that place, and you find yourself standing in moments that puree your affections to baby food. 

 

And then sometimes, if you're lucky, you get to go back, four years later and watch it happen again, and you're reminded of who you are, and who God is shaping you to be, and just how far His grace has brought you: there and back again.

After a few days in Agra, our plan was simple: grab early (7:30 AM) train back to New Delhi. Hop on the easy and direct metro line to the airport. Wait a few hours, board late evening (9:45 PM) plane to Hyderabad. Wait a few more hours until a bunch of foreigners (aka the Tabor Team) arrive. 

But this is actually how it went down:

 

We were appropriately early enough for our train's arrival - We were hoping to navigate the chaos that is the classic unmarked railway platforms and unidentifiable trains that roll through without too much of a problem. However. The dense morning fog delayed our train, but were there any updates as to how long? Of course not. Trains kept rolling through for about an hour. The information screens NEVER changed and/or updated. So Emma and I sat on a random bench for a few hours, periodically asking people which train they were waiting for, hoping that we could at least carry out a weird/stalker-ish buddy system that hops on the trains to the beat of: you move, I move, JUSTLIKETHAT. 

After a few hours of waiting/not having any update, we were rightfully nervous that maybe our train had already passed through and/or it would never come. But BECAUSE GOD IS SO GRACIOUS, we just happened to be sharing a bench with an older Australian man who had two Indian bellhops from a hotel with him. This man was waiting for the same train as us. About 10 a.m. or so, the bell-hops came over and informed the man that the platform had changed and that they needed to quickly move to platform 5.

So, of course, he moved, we moved, justlikethat.

When we boarded the train, our seats were ridiculously small. Our freakishly tall frames were squeezed into the little space on the side, but we didn't care. We were just so grateful we hadn't missed our train. But then a nice Indian man in charge of our cabin randomly came in and invited us to move to the area that had beds OHMYGOSH. Yes to the PLEASE. This was a total game-charger, because our train didn't leave the station for another hour and a half or so, and Emma and I were exhausted and hungry and cold. The only thing we had to eat that morning was a small cup of chai and a fried egg sandwich. I fell asleep almost immediately. We didn't start moving until about 11:30 - which was the original time we were supposed arrive the New Delhi station. 

Compared to Chinese train stations, Indian trains are like HUH?! a million times over. You don't really know which station is which or if you have missed your station. Sometimes people come through and yell the station name, but not often. And our trains, both to and from Agra, stopped randomly like a zillion times, so you really have no idea where you are or where you need to get off. The only solution is to ask, and ask like a million different people just to make sure.

 

Luckily our flight out of New Delhi was late in the evening, so we had plenty of buffer time, which was needed since our train was 5+ hours late. We got to the airport around 4:00 p.m. and needed to check our bags so we could get through security and finally eat something. Emma and I hadn't eaten all day and by this point, we were both HANGRY. As we were checking our bags, the lady asked us if we would like the earlier flight. Due to my lack of food intake, my ability to process information was at an all time low. So I said, "Sure!" --- did my brain think to check the current time? OF COURSE NOT. (4:40 p.m.) Plane's boarding closing time? 5:20 p.m. 

Run, you hangry white foreigners. RUN. 

Run to the standstill security line and stand in the MALE SECTION OHMYGOSH (again, my brain's ability to process info was at an all time low because #HANGRY). 

Run to the not 2, but 3 additional security checks before you board the plane.

Run past the McDonalds. (and cry)

Run past the Starbucks.  (and cry even more)

Run to the farthest gate in the entire airport OHMYGOSH. 

Run past the man who yells, "You're gonna make it!" before you yell back: YOU DON'T KNOW MY LIFE!

How many times did I kick myself for saying "Sure!" to the flight lady? There are not enough legs in the world, my friends.

But then.

We got dinner on the plane. We landed in Hyderabad. We waited in a lounge area. We ate McDonalds. 

And then we got this update: YOUR FLIGHT FROM NEW DELHI TO HYDERABAD HAS BEEN CANCELED. 

Wut the FREAKING Wut. 

Total God thing. Even though we had Indian SIM cards, it would have been really difficult to make contact with the Tabor team if we had missed our flight.

PRAISE HANDS.

We pulled an all-nighter at the Hyderabad airport waiting for the Tabor team to arrive. Even though we were exhausted from our travel marathon day, a hug from Tabor's own Reverend Dr. Del Gray Sir and about 15 wide-eyed college students made it all worth it. 

After spending most of the semester planning our 40 day backpacking trip, Emma and I were SO READY TO 走吧. Planning was stressful because a lot of India details had to be last minute and doing anything with a VPN is like trying to play tennis against Serena Williams without arms. #chinaproblems, am I right?!

BUT WE DID IT. 

We flew into New Delhi and stayed one night before grabbing a train to Agra. The Indian Railway system is really extensive and incredibly useful, but trying to book a ticket in advance as a non-Indian person is a mess. It involved a fake phone number, e-mailing my passport page to who even knows, and a unicorn. You can do it, but prepare to refer to yourself as a wizard from thereon after. Because that is what you will be.

Other than our room being on the loudest floor, our hostel in Agra wasn't too bad. It is owned and run by an Indian family - the cups of chai were big and the food was amazing. Emma and I ate most of our meals here while we were in Agra, just because it was convenient and seriously yummy. We met another backpacker, Dave from Canada/Kazakhstan the first night at the hostel, and we ended up going to the Taj Mahal and the Agra Fort together the next day. The hostel's location was so prime: just a 10 minute walk from the Taj Mahal ticket booth.

INDIAN FOOD FO-EVAH

A word on the Taj Mahal: BELIEVE THE HYPE, PEOPLE.
Believe. The. Hype. 

 

SWOON

We did the recommended thing: got there as early as we could - aka before the ticket booth opened. During the winter, northern India is really foggy, so many people wait until after the fog lifts to go to the Taj.

And when it finally does and the sun hits the white marble, THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH HEART-EYED EMOJIS IN THE WORLD, my friends.
It shimmers.
It gleams.
It captivates.
And it also makes you think: "Well, YYEAAAHH. If the same guy knocked me up 14 times and I died mid-childbirth, I WOULD DESERVE SOMETHING LIKE THIS, TOO."

when you is trying to take a selfie but your Indian boo photobombs like a boss

Everything about the Taj is so fascinating: how it was built, what happened after it was built, etc. We spent all morning just DROOLING. Then we walked to the Agra Fort. Obviously #itaintnoTaj, but the story behind it is super intriguing: it involved a son overthrowing the king and exiling him to the Agra Fort, where the Taj is visible from a distance. Real life drama for yo mama and really interesting stuff.

One of the most entertaining parts about Agra was the continual cameos of THE WONKS (women monks). 

They were on our flight from Shanghai to New Delhi (CHATTY KATHIES OHMYGOSH). They showed up at the Taj. Then they also made an appearance at the Agra Fort. There were so many of them. Were the wonks following us or were we following the wonks? 谁知道呢. WHO CAN EVEN SAY. 

We walked around the non-tourist part of Agra for a long time in the afternoon and then walked to the other side of the river to watch the sun set over the Taj. Whilst Taj-gazing, a bird pooped on me because THAT IS MY LIFE. Equal parts: hilarious and I'M-NOT-EVEN-SURPRISED.

PRE-BIRD BOMB

POST- BIRD BOMB

We gave ourselves one more day in Agra just to chill, which was seriously the best idea ever. We didn't do much except hang out on the roof of the hostel and visit a Gurdwara, which was so interesting and involved a really nice Indian guru who kept talking to me in Hindi. He was adorable. I couldn't understand a single word he said, but I totally wanted him to be my grandpa.

Me, Dave, and Emma

A short ode to the New Delhi Metro Rail: You are the poster child of convenient. THANK YOU. However. Thanks for the reminder that while Chinese people are light and feathery and can be pushed easily out of the way (#asia), Indian people on the other hand: NOTSOMUCH. I don't remember much about being born, but if I had to guess, it probably felt like trying to exit that metro car.

 

BBAB Travel Tips:

1. E-tourist Visa's FOR THE WIN: https://indianvisaonline.gov.in/visa/tvoa.html

2. Get an Indian SIM card. But then when Unk from India helps you find the train station, don't be polite, because then he will call you 23490234 times.

3. Madpackers Hostel (New Delhi) - within walking distance to the metro, most comfortable bed I've slept on for 6+ months, and a fairly easy taxi ride from the airport when you fly in: http://www.hostelworld.com/hosteldetails.php/The-Madpackers-Hostel/New-Delhi/91989?dateFrom=2016-01-04&dateTo=2016-01-05
 

4. Friends Paying Guest House (Agra): http://friendspayingguesthouse.com/index.html 

5. How to book a train/become a wizard: http://www.seat61.com/India.htm#.Vns34vkrKhc