Early off (our bus is at 8:30, we’re told to be there at 8)
and Debbie and Paul have graciously lent us their cell phone with alarm as the
iPad alarm has stopped working!
And we’re missing today’s big event – the Rajah of Udaipur and his wife
are coming to dedicate a new coffee house right downstairs!! The road has been marked with strips of
white and pink chalk and will be closed off for the event. Debbie and Paul promise to take photos
for us!!
Our first bus ride – only in India! We get to the bus ticket counter – same
place we bought the tickets - and there’s not a bus in sight. Talk to a couple of German girls, and we
think we’re on the same bus – to Ahmedabad. Turns out they booked the ‘sleeper birth’ and are on a
different bus . . . could there really be two busses to the same city at the
same time? Then a bus
arrives with something we can’t read on the front (Hindi?). One of the innumerable ‘workers’ waves us over to it – there
are two seats left – ours! It’s
packed, all Indians and a bollywood tear-jerker blaring from the screen in
front. OK we’re off!
Sweet episode en route. We stop for a food and bathroom break. I head toward the ‘Toilet’ and wait my
turn. It’s pretty gross, actually it's very gross . . . then
a local says, ‘The door doesn’t close; I’ll hold it for you.’ I feel duty bound to at least go inside
the cubicle but when I see about a half inch of water(?) on the floor, I can’t
do it . . . so I wait a few seconds, flush the toilet and thank the sweet lady
for holding the door closed.
We’re going to Ahmedabad to meet up with a priest friend of
our dear friends, Liz and Jerry, in NM.
Liz made two trips to India almost 30 years ago and was so excited that
we might be able to get to see her old friend, Father Jerry Michael. We’ve arranged to stay with him at the
rectory. He knows we’re arriving
by bus but we don’t have a pick-up plan . . . or even an address, other than
his parish.
Ahmedabad, a city of almost 6 million, is in Gujarat State,
the westernmost state in India and, I read somewhere, the single Indian State
where most immigrants to the west come from. It’s also Mahatma Gandhi’s home. We’re making our way through the outskirts; it’s busy,
crowded, and has a very western feel to it. Traffic is quite orderly, streets are well-maintained, and
cows seem to have taken a back seat to commerce. Ralph Lauren, Tommy Hilfiger, Coach – first time we’ve seen
so many designer shops.
We’re heading farther into the city, making occasional stops
for people to get off, and then, voila, the bus stops, a man gets on, walks up
to our seats, and says ‘Father Jerry’.
Yes, that’s us!! We
retrieve our luggage from the belly of the bus, and off we go in his tuk
tuk.
A short ride later and we're left at the front gate of St. Xavier's church, where Father Jerry is waiting.
He remembers Liz with great fondness and clarity, even after all these years. Such a candid and open man - and priest! He tells us that this track suit is his usual 'priestly garb' - a throwback to his decades as an athlete, something he dearly misses since a couple of health setbacks in recent years.
We take a tour of the rectory, meet the other six priests in residence and plan some outings for the next two days. Tim and I are most impressed with the crucifix in the church - Jesus's hands are not nailed to the cross or dripping blood, they are extended in a welcoming gesture.
Tim at the entrance to the rectory grounds (beautiful and lovingly kept) - that's a cow-proof gate!
The rectory kitchen where we ate breakfast and dinner with Jerry and his fellow priests.
Off tomorrow to see some of the sights of Ahmedabad!
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