Nepal

September 19th

     The five of us arrived in Kathmandu, Nepal mid morning. We were picked up by Puron, good friend of Russ, and Pastor of Kathmandu Capitol Church; both his smile and laugh are contagious, and his big heart and personality seem to change the atmosphere.  Although Nepalese, Puron spent some years in Mussoorie (remember the mountain station in India?), but has lived in Kathmandu with his wife Rebekah and their two sons since 2007. His fluency in Hindi, Nepalese, and English prove to be a tremendous asset in this place.

At about 9 million people strong, there are many scenes and scenarios on the streets of Kathmandu that resemble those we experience in New Delhi, although on a smaller scale. The monsoon season has ended, so although quite humid, it is quite cool in the evening. Puron directed our taxis to our hotel, which was very obviously in a tourist "pocket" of Kathmandu; think "all things Everest."  A barrage of shops sell all kinds of trekking gear and apparel. All along the tiny, winding streets, companies sell varying trekking packages to adventurers clambering to explore the magnificent Himalayas.  We eyed up a helicopter company who for $5000 dollars, will give you and four others a chopper ride to Mt Everest base camp, where you will got spend a hefty thirty minutes. Maybe next year.

    While eating lunch with Puron, the clouds darkened, and the sky opened up, pouring down heavy sheets of rain through the thatched roof (remember how monsoon season is supposed to over?). Within minutes, we were up to our ankles in water which was steadily rising.  Fellow lunch goers snapped pictures of the servers who had exchanged their shoes for flip flops and were now wading through the restaurant.  Our plan to "wait out the rain" before braving the streets to walk to our hotel proved futile. 

standing under cover watching the rain fall all around us

     How quickly the streets had completely flooded was unbelievable; cars continued to stubbornly push through the streets, even with water up to their bumpers. A motorcycle forced it's way through water up to the rider's seat, to which a plastic bag full of freshly plucked chickens was hanging & and being dragged through the flood waters. Chicken momos anyone? After a variety of ingenious tactics (shoe removal, stealth ledge balancing, & spontaneous Sherpa designation), our entire company made it to the hotel.

making waves

check out how deep it is on the guy across the street

Old Delhi, and back to tell about it.

our intrepid tour guide

September 18th

      With one full day in New Delhi before departing for Nepal, Russ assured us that we could NOT miss experiencing "Old Delhi." After a string of busy metro and hot rickshaw rides, we found ourselves in what seemed to be a collision between an ancient and modern world.

     Remember our first experiences of the intensity of New Delhi? Forget about that now. Old Delhi wins. There is a sea of people covering every inch and corner of a labyrinth of streets and alleys, some so narrow that the buildings across from one another nearly touch at their highest points.  The streets are too narrow for cars, yet enormous traffic jams of rickshaws,  motor cycles, and carts carrying all imaginable cargo congest the streets.

      Buildings of every colour, from every era, and in every condition are stacked on top of one another, seemingly ready to topple with only a shove. Enormous tangles of electrical wires run up and down poles, around doors frames, and in some areas, droop at eye level. A road to a silver shop was blocked off due to an electrical fire. Remember what I said about the electrical wires?

     Colours, textures, aromas, and sounds change every few feet; incense, prayers from a Muslim temple, strings of vibrant silk decorated in gold, shopkeepers calling out to you, herbs and spices of all kinds for sale...it feels impossible to adequately detail the explosion of life and activity in Old Delhi. 

     "Karims" (Kah-REMS) is a restaurant hidden in a maze of tiny streets known for delicious bread, roasted and curried meats.  Family recipes at this place have been kept secret and unchanged since they were first served to the Mughal Emperor five generations ago. We partook. We approved.

famous for their Roti (secret recipe)

tandoori chicken

keeping watch and serving

family style meals are the best

     Russ lead us in to the heart of the spice market, where the sharp aroma of hundreds of pounds of chilies and all kinds of spices enveloped us, causing us to cough and sneeze. Men carry massive loads of red chilies on their heads, and unless you jump out of the way, you'll get knocked over. We climbed dark, narrow, winding stair cases until we were on the rooftops of the spice market, with a birds eye view of the ceaseless buzz of Old Delhi we had just been immersed in.

chilies glorious chilies

our view from the top

the very large bags (we stayed out of their way)

     Hot, sweaty, and with full bellies, we made our way back to the metro. In a city as populous as New Delhi, we literally allowed ourselves to be jelly-legged, pushed and stoked by a rolling sea of people around us onto the train. 

   Another crazy wonderful day in this colourful noisy city.

Family Worldwide

September 14th
     
     Ruman and Kiron are dear friends of Russ, and for the last sixteen years, have pastored "Community of Nations Church" (CNC) in Mussoorie. They are wonderfully gracious and hospitable, and had us over for a visit despite having just moved, and still had unpacked boxes throughout the house. 

Ruman and Russ catching up

It was inspiring to hear their testimonies of how God's purpose had threaded through their lives, and lead them from New Delhi, to Mussoorie.  We also had the privilege of taking part in their Sunday meeting.

Reunion between old friends

                                                                                
                                                                                         
CNC is about 130 people strong (Christianity represents about 1% of India), and meets in a hotel conference room on Sundays. 

                                                                              It was a privilege to witness their overt joy, exuberance, and passion; excessive dancing took place.  Their love and care for one another is openly demonstrated, and extends far beyond the walls of where they meet.

Making new friends

Family

     Perhaps without resources that we are fortunate to have, these are men and women who are impacting their community and beyond. 

Playful Schoolmates

                                                                                                                                                                                              
                                     To detail only a couple,  several members are devoted to teaching children at a primary school started by Kiron.

Devoted Teachers

A man named Samuel organizes and treks medical teams to remote mountain villages to provide medical care, and to build relationship with the people there.  These are a people who have encountered Jesus, and have patterned both their vision and their lives after Him.

From the City to the Hills...

September 13th
     
     After a five hour train ride follow by a near vomit-inducing taxi ride into the Himalayan foothills, it was a delight to be in Mussoorie. The air was much cooler, and with only about 30,000 people in it, the village pace was a nice change.

Mussoorie Village life

Some friendly locals

                                                                                                                                                                                  Monkeys thunder across tin rooftops, and wreak havoc in people's kitchens if they leave their doors open (we even saw two monkeys climb into a car after carefully making sure the driver was nowhere in site, searching for "the goods").

Naughty Monkey

      The steep & narrow roads switchback up the mountainside, and are packed tightly with shops, some if which are so tiny, the shop keeper literally hardly fits inside along with their merchandise. People's houses, shops, and hotels are stacked on top of one another, many of which are disintegrating. The air smells of food, incense, and garbage. Families roast and sell corn on the side of the street. The prayers from a Muslim and a Hindu temple are projected over a speaker and fill the air.  Sherpas (sometimes accompanied by mules) trek up and down the mountain roads carrying unbelievable loads of produce, building supplies, and appliances on their backs and heads. 

   It appears that for many, life here demands resilience; people work remarkably hard to achieve even the most basic of things. In the midst of their daily grind, people here are gentle, kind, and engaging.

Young boy selling roasted corn

Even if someone is carrying a load of rocks and soil on their head, we are almost always greeted with a smile and "namaste."

On the road again...

September 12th
     
     We were scheduled to make the journey from New Delhi to Mussoorie; a mountain station in the Himalayan foothills founded by the British in the 1800's. Two taxis picked the five us up from our hotel at 5:15 am to take us to a major train station in New Delhi. Although our train wasn't scheduled to leave until 7:20 am, Russ wanted us to leave early, because "it's India, and anything can happen."  Famous last words.     One of the taxis came to a clunking halt in what was essentially the fast lane on the highway, due to a flat tire. Luckily after a quick fix by the driver,we were on our way to the train station.

Train station chaos

     Yeah. About the train station. Upon exiting the taxis, we were instantly swarmed by a host of men, young and old, pushing, shoving, and shouting to crowd around us, eager to porter our bags (for a fee) in to the station. It felt like we had to fight to haul our bags through people, broken meridians, piles of trash, and a sea of rickshaws and taxis. Inside the station smelled like urine, stray dogs skulked about, and people waiting for trains and beggars alike were strewn about the floor, literally in piles. Before being pushed along by security, women and small children begged for money, as well as a couple of men using their hands to walk. 

Nate and Russ, solving the world's problems

Men with Cycle Rickshaws, eager for business at the railway's edge

The contrast between beauty and desperation is both sharp and overt here.

Impact through relationship

September 11th

     Arun and Madhavi, and their two daughters Manisha and Mansi are dear friends of Russ, and also founders of the church in New Delhi of which Russ and Glyn were a part for seven years. A train and a cycle rickshaw later, the five of us were at their flat for chai tea (the REAL stuff) in the evening. 

City life

It was a wonderful reunion; endless stories and expressions of gratitude by all parties about how each person had been profoundly impacted through relationship with one another, had sown into one another's lives spiritually, and in many ways, changed their lives forever. It is apparent that "Kingdom culture" can be fostered one relationship at a time; the effects of each relationship ripple  further, and further out, impacting far beyond the epicentre. Longevity of widespread impact is catalyzed by relationship.

Russel and his very good friends

our new friends

Not your typical shopping day

September 11th

     We are still attempting to shake off the jet leg...because accidentally sleeping from 3 to 6PM and than trying to sleep at night just isn't awesome. Russ took us via metro and rickshaw (we lived to tell) to a market called "Delhi Haat". 

Rickshaw transportation

However, Russ first took us to a local meat market NOT frequented by tourists. PETA would not approve. The smell of chickens slaughtered on the spot, pig carcasses, varying animal innards hanging and for sale, and baskets of sting rays, squid, and fish of all kinds thickly enveloped us as much as the clouds of black flies. We would occasionally smell the pungent aroma of garlic, chilies, and cilantro. Men old and young we're sitting in amongst the varying types of meat, preparing them in all various manners for sale.

Sting Ray for supper...

Sea food buffet anyone?

  Delhi Haat was not unlike M-Block market, except that the practice and art of bartering felt to be amplified. God bless Russ for his Hindi-speaking and bartering abilities; we came away less broke than we otherwise would have. It is monsoon season now, and we felt its wrath while in Delhi Haat. The torrential rain (although not long lasting) poured in small rivers off of the market stalls tarp roofs, while workers swept the pooling water with straw brooms towards a downgrade. Others rolled up rugs, pashminas, and other sale items and moved them to dry ground.

Silk, wool, & cotton shawls

Threat of Monsoon rains on the streets outside Delhi Haat

Feast for the Senses

We're not in Canada anymore...

September 10th
    Blurry-eyed and stiff from eighteen hours worth of flights, we at last arrived in New Delhi at 3:30 a.m. After a few short hours of sleep, we hit the ground running to explore our surroundings; in a city of about 18 million people, there's a few things to see. Our friend Nancy expressed well what us India first-timers were experiencing; a "feast" for the senses.  

In addition to the din of ceaseless horn-honking and seemingly patternless stream of traffic, throngs of people criss-cross streets and sidewalks, every which way. Although still hot and humid, the sun is always slightly hidden behind a layer of smog. In a nearby market ("M-Block"), no saleable item if off the table; produce is being sold from carts, make-shift portable shops are selling all imaginable knick-knacks, streams of colourful cloth are draped in shop windows beside a butcher shop where men cut chicken carcasses between their toes (yes, really). The smell of leaded gas, all kinds of cooking, incense being burned to gods, & trash of every kind fill the air, playing on all of our senses, all of the time.

Street food

     It is impossible for the profoundly overt dichotomy between the wealthy and the poor to go unnoticed. Where a high-end hotel stands, a shanty town hugs it's walls. As a Mercedes Benz drives on an overpass, people lay underneath to feel the cooler breeze created by traffic & to escape the mosquitoes that flee the carbon monoxide. Where business men wait for the metro, women beg for food and money with their babies on the ground beside them, and beggars drag themselves with their hands across the ground before being moved along by security guards.

M-Block Market