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morning out.


 

morning out.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

 

David first had the idea to give me a weekly chunk of time out back when Amelie was a baby and I really, really struggled with the transition from one to two kids.  Oh how I have been grateful for this habit.  It has come in fits and bursts . . . some weeks it happened, some months it didn’t.  Depending on our schedule, it has been in the morning or the afternoon or even an evening.  But we’ve fought for it, and many weeks I believe it has kept me sane.

Back home I would typically spend my several hours at Jamestown Coffee or IMMAC, squeezing in a Target run or maybe a walk in downtown Columbia if the weather was nice.

When we first moved here I couldn’t imagine ever having the courage to take an auto rickshaw alone, much less spend a whole morning in a strange part of the city (which was every part of the city).  But time passes, and the unimaginable gradually begins to look like an adventure — or a necessary means to survival.  Now it is one of my favorite parts of the week.

This week I took my camera along to give you a glimpse into my South Asia morning out . . .

 

good-bye hugs from my boy and I’m off

There are several coffee shops in our neighborhood, but I prefer to venture further away for a change of scenery.  Outside our apartment complex, I catch an auto for the twenty-five minute ride to a part of the city I really enjoy.  This one-way ride costs about $2.

Stopping for a train to pass.  Notice there are no actual lanes of traffic.  As David likes to say, often when waiting for a train, vehicles will pack themselves across every inch of road (and sidewalk, if there is one) . . . so that finally when the traffic is allowed to move we find ourselves staring at one another across the tracks, at a dead impasse.  And yes, that is a dog riding on a motorcycle.

. . . and there’s another train

and way too many exhaust fumes

Finally I reach Gloria Jean’s, our favorite place for coffee.  There are several coffee shop chains in our country, Cafe Coffee Day being the South Asian version of Starbucks.  But we prefer Gloria Jeans’ better-tasting lattes and earlier opening hours. 

An interesting fact about coffee shops here is that they open much later — the typical Coffee Day opens at 10 or 11 a.m, probably because coffee is considered more of an social event here that an early-morning necessity.  David and I have learned to adjust.  And to drink most of our coffee at home.

doesn’t it look inviting?

I spend a couple hours journaling, blogging, reading, and just sitting and staring.  It’s blissful. 

I love this neighborhood mostly for its shady, tree-lined streets and sidewalks, but there are also great restaurants and lots of shopping.

Before heading home, I walk to (the infamous) Office Depot to find David a notebook.  This girl is creating a traditional Kolam outside the electronics store where she works.

From this picture you (Mom and Dad) can understand why a couple of people commented that “It’s just like New York.”

. . . but even in this swanky part of town you can’t escape the trash.  Or the crowds of people.  Or the smells.  Or the dogs.  Or the  devastating slums just a block away.

All of this threatened to send me into a depression the first couple of months.  Some days it still does.

I started asking God to help me see our country with his eyes, rather than with my critical, despairing, American-through-and-through eyes.

This country is lively.  It is never, ever dull.  It is teeming with people, and people are what God cares about most — more than clean sidewalks and efficient traffic.  People are why we’re here.  I think God sees this country with mingled delight and anger and heart-ache and hope.  He is teaching me to do the same.

 

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