Category Archives: Travels

Poo On Your Shoe

Hear Bill Tucker assemble his consonants and you’ll spot he’s from Australia but his job as an architect is 6,500 miles away in New Delhi, India. A no-nonsense guy, his corduroy mind is consumed with approved processes and how things done right are best done by the book. This background is helpful so you’ll get the full measure of what comes next.

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Revenge of the Monkey Chaser

Monkey chaserWhen you come to visit, you’ll probably take photos of them at the president’s palace, the Rashtrapati Bhavan.  You’ll think they’re cute.  You’d be wrong.  You might assume that the guards are poised to keep you out, but most days the guards spend a lot of time beating the trees with sticks and keeping them from washing their young in the fountains.

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Normal Sets In

DSC02994        I knew it would come.  It’s the pang of knowing that our “new” is becoming our “normal.”  The family of five on a straining motorcycle now only gets a quick glance even though the kid perched in front of his mom can’t see because her lime and scarlet scarf wraps itself around the top of his head like a fallen turban.  All you see is his grin. And I didn’t even call Lee Ann to come and watch the painted elephant limp his way home from his moonlighting gig at last night’s wedding.    In short, this is becoming home.

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Sister Acts of Grace

Nicholas Kristof is a writer for the New York Times and, until recently, not a particular friend of faith.  Lately he’s been changing his tune because of Catholic nuns (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/29/opinion/sunday/kristof-we-are-all-nuns.html).   As he has traveled around the world, he says they simply do what Jesus expected all of us to be doing.

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Brother Stan

Every Thursday night we stroll down into the “village” to do our shopping for the week.  It is a collection of side streets and small stores tucked back into a neighborhood like a secret inside this huge city.  As we head out to shop, Aslam, our driver, has trained us to say hello to the proprietors we’ve come to know.  The electrician, the barber (great hair cut and neck/scalp massage for 60 rupees—now if he’d just clean his combs between customers), and the chemist where we buy our really cheap drugs.  Two weeks ago as we were chatting with the pharmacist, I noticed I was leaning against a larger than life-sized poster of a beautiful young woman applying whitening cream to her face.  It felt like far too intimate of a moment with her, so I shuffled off to the other side of the cramped store.

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Brought Together By a Treadmill

The weather in Dehli is delightful.  I’m whispering it.  If I say it too loudly  invariably somebody feels an obligation to remind you that the fires of hades will soon be roaring down and desiccating our skin.  I have no idea why people can’t simply let me enjoy my brief Indian Spring reverie.  But they can’t.  So we’re doing our part to prepare:  We bought a used treadmill and parked it near the air conditioner.

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Never Turn Your Back On A Nun

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre ought to be the most sacred space on the planet.  It houses both the hillock where Christ’s cross was planted as well as the garden graveyard of our Lord.  All under one roof.  And don’t forget that more than a handful of the starring Christian denominations claim holy real estate there–from the Ethiopians to the Franciscans.  Think of it as the spiritual mall that time forgot.

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