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Spartacusboy
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Name: Paul
Gender: Male
Interests: Basketball, football, long distance running, extreme sports... That sort of thing, but I also love just chilling out in the woods by myself.
Expertise: coffee.
Occupation: Poor college student "TheMooch
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Member Since:
8/26/2006
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| India #5 Animal Activities and A Few Hours Of SolitudeIt's been a while since I wrote an update; I suppose I was waiting for something extraordinary to happen before I talked about life up here. I decided that it'd been so long I could probably fill up a note mostly with random stuff that's gone on, so this may seem like shotgun thoughts as I write. Bear with me here.
Latest news on animal activities:
#1: The street dogs in Leh have begun to converge into packs. When it gets cold and there is no food for them in the winter, they are known to attack pedestrians. So it's not uncommon that 5 or 6 dogs will follow you along as you head down the side walk stopping when you send a suspicious glance back at them. It can be quite unnerving.
#2: Several nights ago, my sister and I were walking home from town. We encountered a dark cat in the middle of the road. Now, I should explain, the road leading home has a very small canal on the side of it where a small stream courses through it constantly, fed by the mountain snow run-off. There is also a wall on the opposite side of this little canal which would inhibit someone from jumping into a stranger’s back-yard from the road. However, when we were walking back it was quite dark and the canal and wall were shrouded in the darkness and there aren't many street lights here. So as we walked toward this cat, it apparently was not expecting our presence. In its panic, it fled to the left side of the road and leapt with all it's might to clear the small canal. My sister and I both thought that cats have superior night vision, but this cat must have been born with a disability because it flew straight into the wall on the other side. We heard a quiet, but distinct splat as the unfortunate cat face planted into the stone wall. Stunned, it quickly descended into the canal below and plunged into the water. By the time I got home I was still trying to catch my breath from laughing so hard at witnessing one of the scenes of animal instinct and grace that we rarely see.
#3: The final news flash on animal activity has become very personal for Anna and me. In fact, this beast has become our new arch-enemy. I quickly realized that mice were not uncommon pests in foreign countries. The first couple weeks of arrival I noticed a small mouse in the coffee shop I work in. My brow furrowed as I realized we were probably not fulfilling most health-code laws. Then, a few days later, I witnessed to my horror (and slight amusement), the mouse reappear only to be chased across the shop and crushed beneath my manager's boot. At first I felt a slight compassion for the little guys who were so despised by all humans. Similar to the feelings an American experiences when he/she sees the sad state of dogs in Mexico or really anywhere in the world besides America.
Just a few weeks ago, my sister and I realized that we just might have a mouse problem in our home. A specific cabinet (that we fortunately do not keep food in) started to reveal mouse droppings and on some occasions, the blur of a startled mouse when we pulled the wall off of his house. 3 days ago I woke up at my usual hour of about 8 AM or so and went about my morning routine. At about 9 I realized that my sister was really taking her time in getting up. Finally at around 9:30 she walked out her door with the look that said, "If I am denied coffee, your blood will be upon your own head." I asked her how she slept and she retorted that one of the little demons kept her up all night. She proceeded to tell me how this little critter disturbed her from rest when he nibbled on her finger while she attempted to sleep. Know that my sister is pretty resilient to freak-outs so she did a pretty good job of retaining her composure and did not wake me up with a scream of bloody murder and only flailed about to scare away the mouse. For the remainder of the night he scurried about the floor and the patter of his feet caused minimal sleep for my poor sister. I was a little surprised when she expressed so much anger and hatred towards the species as she told her tale, she being a little bit more bothered by animal cruelty than I. I played a bit of the Devil's advocate by mentioning all the cute little details of the small critters. She would have none of it and stated simply, "They must all die!" I chuckled to myself and nodded my assent to placate her justifiably bad mood.
The next night however, I realized the truth of her statements. It seems that most people need more sleep at a higher altitude; actually it's pretty much factual. It's nigh impossible to get by with just 5 or 6 hours like I used to do just fine at the Honor Academy. So my alarm will pretty much never go off before 7 and usually not before 8. However, this night I stirred at around 5 in the morning, an ungodly hour by all accounts. I heard a small scratching sound in one of the drawers within my dresser. Like a lion disturbed from rest, I growled at the disturbance and grabbed my flashlight I keep near my bed. I scoured the room with a small beam of light. Realizing that this simply was not going to work, I observed with excitement that by a miracle the power was on! Nimble as a 3 legged puppy, I leapt toward the light switch, tripping over whatever lay in my path. As I switched on the three bulbs around the room I stumbled backward in total disorientation as the blinding light streamed into the pitch black room. As I recovered I looked downward to see the small mouse on the ground with a similar expression as if to say, "What the hell is wrong with you, you fool? Now we're both blind!" After pausing in my astonishment at such a foul-mouthed critter, I finally adjusted and began to move with the speed of molasses as the little devil flew into mach 5, diving behind my one small table.
After a few more minutes of pointlessly chasing the little guy around my room I paused and realized how pointless my excursion was. Like a dog chasing a car, I wondered what I would do if I miraculously caught him. Was I going to grab it? Crush like Gogi did? I was barefoot so the latter option was quickly eliminated, and the former seemed too unlikely and unpleasant anyways, so I stopped in mid chase, turned off the lights and hopped back in bed. My heart beating with the speed of a freight train I lay trying to calm my body still racked with adrenaline. Every 5 minutes or so, I would hear the mouse rustle the carpet and climb into my bookshelf within a foot of my bed as if taunting me to try again. Periodically I would turn on my flashlight searching for the culprit in my shelter of warm bed, but to no avail. Finally after about an hour or so of frustration at the rodent, I scowled and determined to ignore it's cries for attention and lay back trying to sleep (after I prayed to God that it would not come and join me within my bed). It took a while but I finally did indeed succeed in falling into my stolen sleep. However, the only thing I could dream of was chasing the small creature. It was there that my true hatred was born for the little demons. I dreamed that I did finally catch him with my hand and threw him like a baseball against the concrete wall. Then I dreamed that there was an outlet with huge holes large enough for me to scare him inside it on my wall and I electrocuted him repeatedly as I herded him in with a wadded up sock. Then I dreamed that I chased him into the bathroom where he leapt upon the toilet and I smacked him down the drain to finish the job by flushing him down.
When I woke I realized that I had had fairly violent visions of killing the little guy, but I felt pretty justified in the absolute rage that the rodent had set me in. If you're a little disturbed at reading my account of destructive desire for the mouse, imagine your emotions when a fly buzzes around your head seeming to know that all your swings and jabs of your arms are utterly useless as he takes joy in knowing that he cannot be stopped from incessantly annoying you. Hopefully you'll get an idea for how I felt. Anyways, the next morning I woke with the same look Anna had the night before and repeated her statement of, "They must all die!" We've devised several clever ways of eliminating the little buggers and I must admit I don't feel sorry for them in the least. They declared war first.
For the sake of time, I'll move on, I realize that I have nearly filled my note with pointless talk, but for the remainder, I'll try to take on a more serious posture.
As far as more realistic news goes, my brother and his wife showed up in Dehli a few weeks ago. Anna and I flew out to greet them and see the Taj Mahal together. They came back to Leh for a while with us and I tell you, I loved it. It's great having my brother Jon around, it can get a little bit lonely when no one is present to laugh at a manly joke or whatever. Needless to say, it was a wonderful week. They left a week and a half ago leaving Anna and I back to normal life.
My life has been mostly consumed with helping at the coffee shop and teaching a few guys guitar. I recently had the opportunity to share the gospel with them which gave me a good feeling of purpose. I told them to consider what I had said and ask me any questions. Please pray for the guys as I plan to bring it up again very soon. They're great guys, I love them a lot.
I realize that I have probably far exceeded your interest with the length of this note, but with your permission, I'll briefly explain the latter portion of my title, "A Few Hours Of Solitude". Tuesdays are my day off at work, so I had an afternoon at my disposal yesterday. As I pondered how to spend it, something within screamed adventure. After considering the enormous mountains surrounding Leh, I responded to its call. I picked a rather large mountain in the distance to conquer and headed in that direction. I had plenty of time so I took every side street I could find and amused myself by taking dozens of unnecessary pictures of the city as I went (which I probably will post just for my own amusement). I finally reached the base of Everest Jr. And after taking a few pictures of myself with the timer (vanity, I know... No one was around to give me an excuse!) I began my ascent. After I got half way up, I paused and enjoyed the view. I realized that the mountain looked much, much bigger half way up, then when you were at the bottom. The first half was mostly me trying to keep my footing on the steep slope of unsteady sand. I finally reached the more solid portion and began to climb. There were several times when I felt uncomfortable climbing without ropes, even though it was fairly easy for anyone with any climbing experience (granted, I don't have much), the rock composition was treacherous since the face could crumble beneath me leaving with a short way to fall, but a very long way to tumble. Once I thought that perhaps it would be wisdom to stop near the top and spare myself any broken bones, but then as I looked at the mountain wall in front of me, I pounded my chest screaming, “You’re going down son!” Finally, after over an hour of much strenuous work, I reached the summit.
I’ll spare you every intimate detail of the view, but let me tell you, it was breathtaking. I sat for a little while enjoying the scenery and spending time with Jesus. It was a beautiful time. I posted a video of the view, so you can check it out if you desire. The sun began to set, so I headed back home. I took my time in the city enjoying the setting sun and I finally arrived at home. That time with Jesus, was just awesome. Sitting there on top of the mountain letting it hold me in place as the wind buffeted the sides gave me a feeling that I was being embraced by the Lover. There’s something about the mountains that gives me an epic feeling, which is fitting for spending time alone with an epic God.
I’d explain it more, but I better stop now… It’s a long note. I hope everyone back home is doing wonderful and I continue to pray for those still at the HA. Godspeed everyone, let us live the adventure! | | |
| India #4 Chasing DaylightHello friends and family and whoever else happens upon this note. Life in India has been wonderful. I am safe and I'm feeling at home after being here over a month.
As far as the work that I came for, I admit, it has been a bit slow. I've been seeking more and more ways to serve the people and share the love that I've found with them. Recently I have had the opportunity to begin to disciple a new believer everyday and I've started to get to know the guys who visit the coffee shop, so it's picking up beyond just normal life which I am thankful for. Still, I'm praying for God to show me new and creative ways to advance His kingdom.
So! This last weekend captured a new adventure that I decided to put onto paper (or a computer screen perhaps). About 3 weeks ago, my manager Gogi asked me if I'd like to go with him and my coworker, Enobi, on a little trip to Lake Pangong. He explained that we would take the trip on motorbikes all the way through the mountains to the Lake. I thought it sounded pretty cool and consented. As the trip drew nigh, neither of us wanted to actually rent motorbikes so they decided to both ride on Enobi's motorized scooter and I decided to take the motorized scooter that Anna and I have available to our use. They weren't sure if it would be such a great idea since mine is significantly weaker than Enobi's but they decided that since they had 2 people on his, it would work out ok.
After much preparation and gathering of permits to travel all the way to Pangong the day of departure finally came... Sunday, October 12th, oh the fateful day. We started at 7:30 AM.
Lake Pangong is over 150 kms away which really isn't so bad if you're on some sort of motorized vehicle. We estimated ETA at 4 hours (since I figured this scooter thing could go at least 40 kms per hour). We forgot however, to factor in the enormous mountain pass known as Chang Lah. The first 60 kms were just dandy. We got through the first couple towns without difficulty, and then we hit the mountain. Leh is at 12,000 feetish and the pass is at 17,500 or something. So we had to ascend a very long way. My scooter isn't gear based, it has one awccelerator which means bad news on steep mountains. It slowed to an incredibly slow rate. I won't go into details, but let me assure you, it was MUCH slower than we had hoped.
We got to the top of the pass at about 12:30 PM. And we weren't sure how much farther we had to go. I was exhausted from sometimes pushing my 400 pound scooter to continue moving up the mountain pass and when you're that high, it's not too easy to breathe. We took a few pictures and headed down. Snow was everywhere and it was pretty cold, but my REI down jacket was keeping me pretty cozy. We realized that my scooter had guzzled it's petrol (gas) on the way up the hill, so we were way lower than we had anticipated and we needed to refill soon. So we turned off our engines to save gas and just rolled down the steep hill on the other side. At one point I approached a steep turn a little too quickly and instead of just pulling on my back wheel brake harder, I foolishly added my front wheel brake to the mix. This sent me flying out of control and I totally lost it and had my first little Motor Bike crash. It wasn't really that bad, but the skin that rubbed off my shin was occupying my mind for the next 20 minutes or so.
For the next couple of hours we pushed hard to find a town with petrol. At this point I began to think to myself, "We've been going for hours! We have to turn back soon if we are going to get back home before night!" I voiced my concern to Gogi who, forever optimistic said, "God will take care of us!" I gave him a worried look and said, "Aight man, I'll follow you guys."
We finally found a town that had petrol. We pulled in at around 3:00 PM. Pangong Lake was still 34 kms away. I gasped at our misjudgment of time and asked if we should start heading back. Gogi said, "No man! We're men! We go!" I smiled and pounded my chest saying, "HOOYA!" so we finally got to Pangong at around 4:30 PM. We took a bunch of pictures and ate lunch (they eat lunch REALLY late here). We didn't have much time to stay since we wanted to make it back that night. So at 5:30 we began the journey home. Gogi and Enobi both work at this afore mentioned coffee shop and they will do whatever it takes to get there on time to work. So they planned to drive through the night, on a huge mountain in the middle of the Himalayas, on scooters. I thought to myself, "Is this a good idea?"
The whole time I was thinking about my sister and wishing to God that I could just make one phone call to let her know that I'm ok and that I probably won't be back that night. Nobody had phones that could call the other side of the pass so I just prayed that she would trust I was ok. Turns out she stayed up until past 3:00 AM waiting for me. I'm sorry sis!
We stopped again at the town with petrol to refill. Already this trip was more expensive that I had thought. There was a guest house (the equivalent of a really cheap hotel) in the town so I threw the idea out that we could stop for the night. Enobi's scooter was having gear trouble, so we stopped at the army camp to fix it. All these Indian army guys came out and helped us to fix it. They were great guys and they gave me this huge chocolate bar. I didn't really understand why but they just kept smiling and motioning me to eat it. The army guys said that it would be a bad idea to try to cross the pass that night. If it snows on the mountain the ice would form and we could slip right off very easily, especially at night.
Despite the army dude's advice, Gogi said that we should go on. It was probably almost 8 PM at this point and the sun had been down for over an hour. So we headed out on our little scooters hoping that our pathetic headlights would light the way. Ok, let me make this situation clear...
I'm in the middle of the Himalayas. It's pitch black at night. It's freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezing cold. I'm pretty tired from the entire day of travel already. And I'm trying to imagine what it will be like crossing the ice covered mountain with little to no visual. The journey to the next town was really long. It was slightly uphill so it involved a lot of pushing my scooter at certain points. At one point, I rounded a bend and saw a pair of bright yellow eyes reflected off of my light. At first I thought it might be a goat, but when it moved, I realized it was a mountain wolf. That wasn't too comforting since it's not like I'm flying down the road, it's more like I'm going 5 MPH as I put-put up hills. I was pretty comfy for most of the trip as far as temperature concerned, but when there was no sun at all, it began to drop very quickly. At first it was just uncomfortable, but then I started to shiver, then I started to shake.
Granted, I don't know much about how cold my body can get, but realistically, I knew that if I tried to make it over the pass, it could kill me. Well, maybe not kill me, but at least give me hypothermia or something. It got worse and worse as we approached and I wondered if I could survive sleeping on the side of the road. We finally got to a small army checkpoint at the base of the mountain. I told Gogi that I really needed to stop. I asked the guy letting us through if they had any place to stay. He looked at all of us with a weird look as if to say, "What the heck are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" At first I thought he would just send us on, but then he said he they had a spot for me in the tent.
I thanked him profusely as he let me in. Gogi and Enobi decided to be awesome guys and stuck around with me. They only had one bed available in the main tent and they insisted that I have it. I felt pretty bad, since I was the guest who gets all the good stuff, but they continued to insist despite my claims that I could sleep on the floor. They slept in a medical tent a little ways away and I clambered in the sleeping bag still shaking. It took a while to warm up, but when I did, I finally slept. It was really weird being a white american kid with a bunch of Indian army dudes all around me. When I woke up I had this incredible strong stench of onions in my nose. Not so fun.
After a little preparation for the trip, my bike refused to start. We deliberated for a long time about what we could do. Finally I hitched a ride to the top of the pass and rode without an engine all the way down the mountain. When we finally reached the village at the bottom, we tried to find a mechanic who could help, turns out the nearest one was about 20 kms away still. So I pushed/glided my scooter all the way to Karu only to have the guy tell me that he didn't have the part my scooter needed.
Finally, I got a trucker to throw my bike in the back and drive me to Leh (for a decent price). At around 2:00 PM I walked back into my house and nearly collapsed. What blows my mind, is that Gogi and Enobi, who slept in the medical tent and nearly froze for lack of a good sleeping bag barely slept at all the night on the mountain... and they went into work when they got back to Leh. I felt pretty bad, but they insisted that it wasn't my fault.
So, I survived. And I enjoyed listening to the audio book of Eragon for the rest of the day.
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| India #3 Crossing Mountains and Finding FaithCrossing mountains and finding faith.
Well, here I am, still in India. I've still got 3 1/2 months to go, but already I've certainly enjoyed it. I've been here 2 weeks already and I've really enjoyed just hanging with my sister, meeting new people and working in the coffee shop up here. My sister keeps telling me that I should enjoy the city while it's still warm. Apparently just about EVERYTHING changes when it starts to cool down. I've already started to feel it. I brought a lot of warm clothes, but dang, the temperature continues to drop.
Because it will be too cold to do most things in 2 weeks I'm trying to get any touristy things I wanted to do out of the way, because there will be no opportunity to do them in the future. There's a really cool guy here named Jonathan that recently wanted to go biking and invited me to go. I thought it sounded cool, so we took a few days and planned a trip up the highest motorable pass in the world and down into the valley on the other side. You can guess, I was petty much scared out of my mind as I anticipated the coming doom.
It's a 40 Kilometer (25ish miles) bike ride to the top of Khardang-La (the pass) and it's very, very uphill. I'm at about 12,000 feet right now, and I already find it semi-difficult to breathe, but the pass is higher than 18,300 feet. So we rented bikes and started up the fabled hill. Not many people are dumb enough to do this, especially not dumb enough to think they can continue to the other side of the mountain on the same day. Whenever I told someone that I planned to bike to the top of Khardang-La they reminded me to bring extra fuel for my motor-bike, then I told them that I was planning to cycle and they just laughed at me. I didn't realize why until about half way up the hill  .
Jonathan and I were feeling just fine as we began our journey. The scenery is almost other-worldly. It's truly incredible. We got about 20ks into it and I started to feel totally exhausted. Turns out the worst part about biking long distances for an amateur biker isn't necessarily your legs, but your seat (I will spare you and not explain any further, let me just say, it was incredibly painful ). Thoughts of ESOAL ran through my mind (ironically enough it was during the time ESOAL was going on back at the HA). I was guzzling water to stay hydrated... You have to maintain more than normal hydration at such a high altitude. Tourists normally take a jeep to the top and then they have a long, enjoyable bike ride back down. So when we got to about 30 kilometers we began to see people passing us on bikes on the way back down, most of them would give us weird looks as if to say, "You're biking uphill? Are you an idiot?"
At about 33 kilometers I was just about to die. I really have never biked long distance ever before. And I don't think this was a great training trip for beginners. I looked at the intimidating cliffs and mountains in the distance and I made a really rash decision. I turned to Jonathan and said, "Bro... I think I'm done. There's no way I could make it over into the valley on the other side." After a few minutes of inner turmoil, Jonathan convinced me to just get to the top, we'd re-evaluate what our plans were from there. I decided that I probably would regret not going all the way, so I consented. After another 2 or 3 hours, we finally arrived at the top of the legendary Khardung-La. We had planned that it would take us 6 hours (7 AM - 1 PM) with minimal breaks. In the end it took us about 9 hours as we pulled in at 4 in the afternoon. The view was indeed incredible, but I just felt like dying, so I started heading back down towards Leh after a few minutes. It was kind of exciting flying down a hill with a wall of rock on one side and a huge cliff on the other. The worst was when I passed a car either coming uphill, or going downhill. I would head off to the left side of the road to let them pass and pray that I didn't hit a rock that would send me flying off the cliff only a couple feet (or a couple inches) away.
After about an hour and a half or so, I ended my adventure back home. The trip we planned for 3 days lasted one simply because we had bitten off more than we could chew. So yeah, I had hoped to post pictures, but I can't access them on my sister’s computer right now  , so hopefully when I get a chance, I'll throw them online.
Since my stay here, I've gotten to know a guy that I'll call David. That's not his name, but I don't want to cause him any trouble with this blog that I'm writing (that may sound a little corny, but I'm told that even something like this can be dangerous for believers if not written carefully). So! I met this guy David a few days after I arrived. He's an incredible fellow, a lover of God and truly a servant. He's been discipled by a man in the church here and he's about ready to go off to his own endeavors as a worker for God in another part of Ladakh south of here. My sister had just told me what a great guy he was, but after talking with him and listening to him I was amazed at what this guy had gone through.
His entire family is Muslim and he converted to Christ about 8 years ago. I don't think he told them immediately, but they eventually found out about his new faith. His parents consented to let him live in the house, but he was immensely persecuted for his faith. They refused to eat with him or interact with him daily. By their standards he is "unclean" because he has rejected their faith. If they come in contact with him at all they have to go through a little ceremonial washing to be cleansed from touching him. He has lived in that house for years being pressured by his family to convert back to Islam, but he has remained firm in his decision to follow Christ. I was speechless when I heard his testimony and I felt almost ashamed of my own walk with God. I realized what I would feel like if my parents and brothers and sister refused to speak with me or touch me because of a decision I made. There are very, very few things I love more in this world more than my family and I simply cannot imagine the pain I would feel if I was in David's situation.
Because David is going to become a preacher of the word himself in just a week or so, his mother and father have said that they will take him to court and officially renounce him as their son for his decision. I saw a pain, but a holy perseverance in his eyes as he told me about his situation. I know the guy loves his family so much, but he will not relent from his faith in Christ. I've never seen a commitment that has been tested so much and been found to be so real. Tears came to my eyes as we sang "I Have Decided To Follow Jesus" together, as brothers in the faith.
He leaves for a city to the south to begin "a new work" among the people. He has invited me to come and help him as he begins this work, so I'm considering taking some leave from my coffee shop and joining him on his journey. The guy doesn't know where he'll stay, what he'll eat, or even if he will be killed for his faith. But I have seen a fire in his eyes that refuses to be quenched and I have been so encouraged by his example to follow Christ no matter what the cost.
So yeah, please pray for David as he embarks on his new journey. And pray that I will somehow be useful in either encouraging him or in actually helping him in his work.
I wish I could tell you all the testimonies from the believers here, but I would surely run out of time and money (I’m still in that internet cafe). Godspeed to you all! I pray that the testimonies of these Indian believers will encourage us all to know and follow hard after our creator all the more! We will never relent from our faith, because it is our life!
"I have decided to follow Jesus,
I have decided to follow Jesus,
I have decided to follow Jesus,
No turning back, no turning back!
The world behind me, the cross before me...
No turning back, no turning back!
Though all will leave me, still I will follow...
No turning back, no turning back."
(you can see my pictures on my facebook) | | |
| India #2 Acclimating and The Massacre Of 2008Well hello again whoever happens to find this. I had most of this ready to be said in my last note, but I had to go, so I split it up into two different ones.
So yeah, there I was on a plane heading to a pretty remote region. Almost all of the flight I had a view of clouds and that's it. But I remember perfectly my first glimpse of this city. I was looking anxiously out the window for some glimpse of mountain or anything until finally we broke through the clouds. There was the little city of Leh and the beautiful Himalayan mountains. It may sound a little bit corny, but for just a few minutes I got a little choked up. At first I wasn't sure why, then it all sort of hit me... This is right, what I'm doing. This is where I'm supposed to be. This is what I've dreamed about for years. This is what I used to pretend I was doing when I was 10. This is it... I'm finally here.
God, is it beautiful!
On a lighter note, I'll tell of a little caper I had this morning... Personally, I kind of like America, most of the time anyway. It's pretty mild, user friendly, and if you can't figure something out, there's probably an instructional booklet that'll tell you. Most third world countries are sort of like "figure it out for yourself". You see, in Leh, fly swatters don't really exist. Most people here are Buddhist and in Buddhism, every creature (even the annoying ones) are apart of the cycle of reincarnation. So they don't kill flies if they can help it, they just catch them and release them outside. The first day I got here I went into the bathroom and then I almost banged my head against the wall because a fly went by my head. These flies are huge! They sound like helicopters! I swear, the hurricane in Texas was started by a fly in Leh.
2 days ago, I was sitting in the apartment me and my sister stay and and I just happened to glance up at the windows on the wall. Then I started counting. When I got to 50 flies, I decided to stop. It's sort of like counting stars, you know? So this morning, me and my sister decided that the time for war was upon us. Without a fly swatter, we had to be innovative. We settled for the next best thing, a straw broom. Not exactly the perfect weapon against such a vast army. Our plan was to open the door, disturb the flies into a frenzy and pray that they would escape into the wild! However, when I came at them with my weapon of fly destruction they attacked! There I was with 60+ flies buzzing in a small room around my person, swinging my broom and screaming war cries! The open door didn't seem to help at all.
When the dust cleared there was a lone figure silhouetted in the morning light. The bodies of his foes strewn around his feet. The deed was done, the massacre complete. Carnage marked the ground and his weapon showed the signs of bloodshed and slaughter. Truly an epic scene of total annihilation. Then I spent another half hour picking up dead flies with toilet paper and throwing them away. Thus ends the ballad of Paul verses the swarm.
It's funny, whenever I go out on a mission trip, I have to make a decision... How much am I willing to throw myself out there? How much comfort am I willing to sacrifice to be effective in ministry? Well, before I headed out here I prayed one of those prayers where you're will is making a decision and you're heart (or shall I say flesh, I dunno) is lagging far behind. I asked God to get me to that place of brokenness. And that I was willing to sacrifice for Him while on this trip. I don't want to be a timid missionary. I want to be bold. I want to dive in headfirst and not worry about feeling humiliated. I guess, I just want that driving passion and I want to be willing to have a heart for it. Now, I can't say that I've been ripped to shreds as a result... Yet. But I'm kind of expecting it.
So as the title suggests, this week has been one of acclimating to both altitude and to God. To be completely honest, I haven't been preaching on the street corners or anything like that. It hasn't been a week jam packed full with ministry. It's been mostly hang out and getting used to breathing. But I don't want to just breathe oxygen. I don't want to just be another person using up air and taking up space in Leh. I want to breathe God.
I've been reading the book by Brother Lawrence, "The Practice Of The Presence Of God". It's been a while since I've been so convicted by something so basic. The man stumbled onto a beautiful practice that has been either neglected or that perhaps hasn't been emphasized enough in our faith. That is the idea that we are to be fully immersed in the presence of God all the time. To be in prayer and to be conscious of God every moment. That's pretty much the entire book. It really doesn't talk about anything else. But when I read it and realize that it is a practice and that constant communion can be attained, I realize that I've missed something. It's more than just morning prayer, or an hour quiet time. It's living as if there exists nothing but He and I and being mindfully conscious of Him. I've been learning to breathe Him not just when I'm used to it, but when I'm busy, tired, hungry, frustrated or whenever. When he says practice, he means it. Because reading the book didn't give the immediate fix to the times when my mind wanders off to carnal things. But I think I'm learning. God willing, the gaze of my soul will learn to focus upon the great lover. I pray that as I learn to practice His presence all the more, the movements of my heart will continue to stir a great passion and love for Him. So yeah, that's what I mean by acclimating to God.
That's week one in a nutshell. I'm liking India already! | | |
| India #1 International Traveling Strikes Back!Well greetings all yall. Just FYI. I wrote a book. I'm sorry. I
generally do that when I write these kind of notes. I'll try to make it
interesting so you don't fall asleep. I won't be offended if it takes
you a couple days to get through it (or a couple weeks for that matter).
I'm hanging out at an internet cafe in India right now. I better hurry
up, because I pay like 2 bucks an hour for internet here, or rather 90
rupees (a fortune I know). Fortunately the owner's pretty cool so he
gives my sister and I a discount sometimes.
So yeah! Here I am in India. Long flight, long layovers, long past
couple of days trying to get used to living in a place that's 12,000
feet above see level (my sister said I couldn't carry around an oxygen
tank! Dang it!). But here I am... And I am so happy to be here.
So, after a 3 1/2 hour flight to Chicago, I grabbed some lunch (highly
overpriced) in the airport and jumped on a 13 hour flight to New Dehli.
Got there at about 8:00 PM. I had a 5:00 AM flight the next morning, so
my plan was to get to the domestic terminal and get comfy. I had a
mini-adventure getting to the right terminal. The free bus dropped me
off at the wrong one, so they wouldn't let me in the airport since my
ticket was for a different terminal. It was pouring rain, but the roof
came out a little bit to shelter from weather, however with the wind
blowing in my direction I still got wet standing against the back wall.
So I kind of just stood there helplessly, trying to think happy
thoughts. Then a genuinely nice guy who was a young (maybe 18ish)
airport porter kid came up and asked me what I needed. So I made my
first Indian friend. After about 30 minutes of trying to get another
bus to come (it was like 11:15 PM about now and the shuttles close at
11:00) his shift was ending. But the guy, ah man, so great... He had me
jump in the back of this tiny van with my 2 enormous bags and my two
carryons and he said that they'd drive me to my terminal before they
took him home. The bus didn't really have a water-tight roof so we both
got kind of wet (there was water on my seat so it wasn't pleasant
knowing that it'd be like 34 hours before i'd get a shower). I got
there safe and sound and he would accept no money since he said it was
a free porter service. He wouldn't even accept a stick of gum (I had
limited options on what I could offer).
Now began my second New Dehli airport adventure... There I was in the
middle of a terminal where I'd be for the next 5 1/2 hours. I found a
few seats where I could put my bags and my wet bum and I tried to get
comfortable. Then I realized I was terribly dehydrated. Then I realized
that I needed to go pee at the same time. So began the dilemma that no
American traveler ever wants to go through. I looked at the water
dispenser against the wall and I imagined my sister scolding me on my
hospital bed for drinking unfiltered water in a foreign country, X on
the first necessity. Then I scanned the entire terminal... Seriously,
the whole room, I walked around and there was no bathroom. None,
whatsoever. I asked the guard at the front door and he pointed me
across the street through the pouring rain at a little outdoor
bathroom. X on the second necessity.
You have to understand that this is my 6th mission trip and I'm well acquainted with the code of international traveling:
#1. Never drink unfiltered water unless you want to want to get hepatitis C and worms and go see Jesus before you're 30.
#2. Everyone around you is waiting for you to look in the opposite
direction so they can steal your bag worth a full $50 on the Indian
black market. In other words, never ask someone to watch your bag!
#3. You can never call and ask for directions because your cell phone
doesn't work, you can't understand how to use the payphone, and even if
you could, your sister is sleeping right now anyways. (this isn't
really a rule, just a sad fact of life)
So there I was... A 20 year old white college kid traveling by himself
internationally for the first time. After much inner turmoil, against
my better judgment, I broke rule #1. And believe it or not, I didn't
feel any worms going down my throat. The water actually tasted pretty
good. So, now that I'd broken the first rule, the need to break the
second just got worse! I decided that I simply could not break rule #2
and therefore could not go across the street to go to the bathroom thus
leaving my bags. I can hold it till I get through security! Yeah! After
about an hour, I realized rule #2 was about to be broken. I looked to
my right at a hippie french guy with dreads in his hair who was
listening to some music. I looked to my left at a European couple who
looked like they were about to fall asleep. I don't like Bob Marly, so
I went with the European couple. They smiled and said they could watch
my bags. After a moment of prayer I ran across the street with my 2
carryons in tow did what I needed to, then I changed real quick (that
watery seat in the little van wasn't too comfortable.), Then I ran
back. You can guess what happened...
The bags, gone. Totally gone. Then I started feeling really sick, I
knew it was the water I drank. The world began to spin, my eyes
blurred. I fell to the floor as sweat poured down my face. Then the
reggae French guy ran up and stole my carry-ons. My passport, my ID, my
traveling money, my wallet, Everything. Hepatitis C is more potent then
I thought. I said my final prayer to God as the worm within began to
devour my innards... Ok, just kidding. I didn't get sick and die, and
the European couple gave me back my bags with smiling faces again.
I'm reminded of that line from Pirate's Of The Caribbean, "The code is
more like a guideline instead of actual rules." Turns out not EVERYBODY
wants to steal your bags and not EVERY bottle of free water has worms
in it (well, I'm still not too sure about the second one). I guess God
orchestrated a situation to teach me to trust people.
I felt kind of dumb for being so paranoid (In my defense, it was late,
I was jet lagged and I still think I have hepatitis C). I hung out for
the remainder of the time, and listened to a Mike Bickle sermon on the
Song Of Songs and rocked out to Mae before my iPod died (It doesn't
take much for that thing to crash). I went over and asked the lady if I
could check in now, she said i still had to wait another hour.
"Bummer", I thought. I pulled out a book written by Brother Lawrence
"Practicing the Presence of God" and started reading. I was distracted
by a Television not far off... I have never understood Cartoon Network,
so I generally just stay away, but it is nothing compared to the
legendary Bollywood. Indian Television is just straight bizarre. I know
it was in Hindi, but I wouldn't have understood it if it was in English
seriously.
Finally the check-in for Kingfisher airlines was called. There was a
whole troop of French Trekkers who were right behind me at the start,
but somehow they all got in front of me before it was all over.
Check-in in domestic India is insane! I stood in line for literally 2
hours and watched about 15 people who were in line behind me get
checked in before me. I have no idea how this phenomenon works out, but
it just happened like that.
There was this guy from Holland named Fredrick behind me who looked
about as confused as I was. I introduced myself and we talked about
backgrounds as we waited for our tickets to get printed. It was about
4:50 when we finally got our boarding passes (we haven't gone through
security yet) and our flight is leaving at 5:00. Most of the French
people around us were all on the same flight and they were freaking
out. We decided that if the entire plane full of people didn't get to
the plane until 5:45 they'd have to wait to take off until 5:45 so we
just laughed at the insanity of it all. People get a little mean when
they want to get to a flight on time, but me and Fredrick tried to pass
the time by laughing at the situation. So when I finally got to the
plane at 6:00 I jumped on this bus that takes us straight to the plane.
There's no boarding tunnel you walk through in India, no they take you
straight to the plane on the airstrip.
Before the bus leaves, you have to run over around the corner and
"identify your bags". I don't know what this means... In fact, I see no
point to the process at all. But I ran over there told them which bags
were mine and then I ran back and jumped on the bus full of a bunch of
anxious French people.
So! I finally got on the plane headed to my final destination... The
city of Leh, in the province of Ladakh, in the state of Kashmir in the
country of India.
I better end this... I know it's long. I'll write more on India soon. Love you guys! | | |
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