A monkey!

So, the night before last I woke up at about 2:00am with a weight on my body and the feeling that some living thing was very close by. I lifted my head slowly and saw, to my astonishment, a huge monkey perched comfortably on my leg. No joke! He was just chilling there, like I was some random tree limb. The little bugger was pawing through my bag and nearly made off with my ipod. Apparently someone left a window open somewhere.

Varanasi

Well, I suppose it's time I post a more substantial update here.

I am still in Varanasi having a very nice time, despite the unrelenting heat. Hot Walla Walla summers can be endured thanks to expensive conveniences like air conditioning. But I have yet to find such lovely luxury devices here in Varanasi!

Varanasi is a very ancient city, with centuries-old buildings all crammed up against each other. A network of narrow alleyways weaves this way and that throughout the old city, each somehow connecting to another and another that eventually takes you either to the main road or to the ghats (bathing steps on the banks of the River Ganges). If you've read my India blogs before then you'll have already heard more than enough about the layout and history of Varanasi. It's enough for newcomers here to share that Varanasi is the holiest site in India for Hindu pilgrims. Traditionally it is believed that dying in Varanasi achieves for the deceased automatic release from the oppressive cycle of rebirth. I am staying on the rooftop of Shanti (Peace) Guesthouse, a short step from Manikarnika Ghat (the main cremation site in Varanasi). Here the dead are wrapped in linen and garlands and doused with river water before they are burned in full public view. I am often interrupted in my goings through the streets by a family entourage bearing the body of someone destined for Manikarnika, and I can almost always catch the scent of burning ash in the air. Cremations at Manikarnika happen 24 hours a day. Occasionally I can also see corpses floating down the river unburned (animals, children under 13, pregnant women, sadhus, lepers, and those killed by cobra bites are not cremated for various reasons having to do with purification). Certainly no one can have any illusions about death in this city!

I've met lots of interesting people in Varanasi already-- tourists from Poland, Finland, The Netherlands, Germany, Japan, Brazil, Sweden, and the U.K. One Dutch girl staying in my dorm road her bicycle from The Netherlands all the way to Kathmandu and then bought a motorbike and toured Rajasthan before returning to Kathmandu and cycling down to Varanasi. Now she is trying to find a man with a little boat who will take her all the way to Kolkata (a two week journey down the Ganges). I was tempted to join her until I asked around and learned that some notorious guerrilla groups camp along the shore line in Bihar. I figured I'd best think of something fun to do that is not also potentially deadly. The Dutch girl is also now faltering on the idea and is looking into cycling to Kolkata. You can check out her amazing blog at: www.cyclingdutchgirl.waarbenjij.nu

Even if taking the boat was possible, I probably wouldn't have time. I've been busy here in Varanasi learning tabla and teaching some guitar to my tabla teacher's son. They are a wonderful family-- Lala, Biba, and their two boys. I met Lala through some other tourists when I was in Dharamsala (my first trip to India), and took a few tabla lessons then. Now he and his wife have opened their (minuscule) home to me. They invite me for meals and conversation all the time and they continue to expand my understanding of Hindu culture. Lala's father was a professional Brahmin priest by trade, and the family is very devout. Next week Biba has determined to dress me up like a real Indian woman-- bangles, braids, oiled hair, sari, vermilion powder and all. This will be fun!

Soon I will also start going more regularly to Sarnath, where Amistad sponsors a free school for street children. I'll mostly be interviewing people and writing articles for Amistad's newsletter. I'm lucky in that I'll get some pay for this-- I'm trying to buy some more scarves to sell for school money in the States! Lala helped me locate a silk wholesaler, so that will be extremely helpful.

Arrived

Last Thursday:

Well, I finally made it!

I arrived in Delhi this afternoon after a long trans-Pacific flight. It's pretty warm here this time of year, and it's hard for me to imagine that only yesterday I was cross-country skiing through the foothills of whatever mountains are near Snohomish. (Yes, it was fun. But I must have fallen at least twenty times and my butt still hurts!)

I had a stopover in Taipei and that was kind of sentimental-- I flew through Taipei (and nearly every other world city) on my first trip to India. This time I especially appreciated the enormous signs in each terminal that said "Drug trafficking is punishable by death in the R.O.C. (Republic of China). Excellent.

Upon arrival in Delhi I caught a taxi to Pahar Ganj, which is the main backpacker district in Delhi. In the middle of our silent and peaceful drive, my driver looked me in the rear-view mirror and asked if sex was easy in "my country." Great, it starts. Through broken English I tried to explain to him about Hollywood and the illusions supported by Western media in India. Whatever. He was kind of right, wasn't he? But I didn't tell him so.

Once in Pahar Ganj I coughed up Rs200 ($5) for a room because I was too tired to keep in pursuit of a cheaper dormitory bed. The room is really nice, except for the weird bugs all over the walls of the bathroom. It has a balcony, making it possibly for me to spy on passersby on the congested street below. You know, I think this sort of activity is actually my favorite thing to do in India. Its amazing what you see when no one knows you are watching.

I had my first meal at the same restaurant where I ate my last meal, last time I was in India. I couldn't believe I stumbled on the same place! The paneer butter masala was great, and it was fun relearning how to avoid accosting street venders on my way back to the hotel. My feet did get run over by a cycle rickshaw already. That kind of hurt.

May 18 (today).

I better post this. I had noble aspirations of adding some "very profound thoughts" (see me rolling my eyes), but it just isn't going to happen right now. Too much to do in this wonderful, marvelous city called Varanasi (yes, that's where I am now). I will probably stick to short, interesting travel updates over soul-wrenching monologues for the next couple months. Or maybe I will change my mood tomorrow. Who really does know?!

The Shame of Being Called

Well, it looks like my first "pastoral" post is coming to a close. It was much different then I expected. When God said "be a pastor," I suspected it would be hard, but I had no idea it would be this personal or painful. I had no idea I would do it this poorly. But that's okay.

I'm leaving for India on Wednesday and will stay in Varanasi for a month (probably) before making a brief pilgrimage back to Darjeeling. After that its UW in Andhra Pradesh, and then off to Kazakhstan, Kyrgystan, and perhaps China with Gina and David. I'll end my trip with a month of blessed aloneness in Kolkata.

I am uncertain about what will come after that. Currently I am registered to begin an MA program at Regent College in Vancouver, B.C., but I think I may switch over to the MDiv instead. It will be more versitile, and it will probably take the same amount of time as the MA would have. I keep asking myself why I don't just go to Andrews if I'm going to do the MDiv anyway-- its free there, after all! I argue back that I have chosen Regent for a number of reasons: 1. To be close to my family at this very critical time. 2. To be close to Natalie. 3. For a superior education. 4. So I can explore the larger Christian world.

I don't think I believe in sectarianism. I believe strongly that we Adventists must humbly find our place in the Christian church if we are to have any voice that matters at all. We have a great deal to offer and a great deal to learn, but neither of those things can happen if we continue to isolate ourselves.

Of course, going to Regent will likely limit my opportunities for ministry within the Adventist church (as if I needed any more strikes against me. I'm already a female, a first-generation Adventist, a graduate of an institution some people view with suspicion, and a person who thinks outside the box. I'm done for.) Perhaps I truly am destined to become a wandering, restless nomad.

It occured to me recently that maybe my expectations were all wrong about what God would call me to when I resolved to obey him. I thought pastoral ministry meant he would call me to a church and give me a little apartment with a little car and some stability. Perhaps I felt sorry for myself for the wandering I did as a child, and thought God did too. I fancied he would finally give me an earthly home. (How do we manage to convince ourselves that even GOD wants what we want?) Could it be that all my years of wandering were instead preperation for a life that will keep ON wandering? Maybe this IS my calling. Gulliver. Rachel the Vagabond. It makes sense.

I'm ashamed of myself over this whole pastoral business. I was so proud, thinking I finally "gave in" to God's calling. I see now that maybe the only thing I gave in to was the part I understood. All my life God has led me closely. Every unfolding event was ordained and directed, clear and sure. As early as five I knew who I was and where I was going. At nine it was "certain" I would be a cloistered nun (I already had the whole landscape of my convent mapped out in my mind.) But God is no longer allowing me to charge ahead in certainty. He is just saying "Wait. Notice this about yoursef? You're not ready yet, despite what you think. Stop playing guessing games-- your calling is me and you are only special in my love. " There are so many ways in which I still need to grow up. I feel very much like Bree, the talking horse from "The Horse and His Boy," who discovered that in Narnia he was really quite an average beast after all. Only in his small world of slavery was he braver and more clever than the other horses.

Perhaps the last word on this subject is that it is really not my right to set myself up anywhere. It isn't mine to refuse OR to demand a place in God's service. My only right, as Christian, is to belong to God and to do as he instructs regardless of the cost or glory. I wish my heart could understand this.