In New Delhi we loaded our bags onto a bus (on the roof of the bus!) and were taken to our church’s Union Office.  Here we were all staying in one large room on cots.  But we didn’t sleep - it was morning now.  We ate some beans and chapati and got into a bus with a/c to drive to Agra.  It was a bumpy 4-5 hour ride.  I tried to lay down in two seats and ended up falling off onto the filthy floor, because the bumps in the road (the “highway”) were so big.  So much for rest!  The countryside was interesting anyway.  Some of the farmers lived in huts here and the bison manure was made into large “patties” and used to build things - like huts!

At Agra we toured the Taj Mahal!  As a kid I never dreamed I would ever actually see the Taj Mahal.  It is as beautiful as they say.  Our pushy little tour guide told us the history and main features of the large building.  The other buildings on the grounds had just as beautiful of architecture, but they didn’t have the same white marble and colorful inlay.  The grounds were fresh with green grass and eucalyptus trees, and parrots and other pretty birds flew about.  How fun it would have been to have it all to ourselves!  But there were lots of people there, the line into the Taj was an hour long (even in the hot season!)  Though you were not supposed to speak inside, (they say for respect - I think it was actually for practicality... you’d go deaf with the raucous of all those people in such an echoing building!) it was still so loud from all the “whispering” that I could barely hear the tour guide.  We were only allowed in the large main room.  Outside on the “veranda” the marble was so hot you could burn your feet by standing on it.  We all had to wear clothes over our sandals to keep from wearing out the marble floors.  It all seemed like a dream.  But I have pictures to prove it to myself! : )  I couldn’t get over how much effort went into all the stone inlay that covered the humongous building.  It made me wonder what “mansions” in Heaven will look like if humans can make this!

A PICTURE TOUR of the TAJ MAHAL

The entrance to the grounds of the Taj.

A close up of the portico of the entrance.

Can you tell those are people up by the door (on top of the "wall") lined up to go in?

The welcoming committee.  : )  Squawked away at everyone but could barely be heard.

Just to prove I was really there.

The front door of the Taj

Several kinds of parrots nested on the parklike grounds (first time we saw a lawn in India).

Another building on the grounds.  Also fabulous but not famous.

The floor on the "back porch" of the Taj.

Looking back toward the front entrance of the grounds.  (Note the patterns in the lawn)

The writing (arabic) that tells of the husband's love for his wife (sounds like he actually became manic).

You can't believe how ornate every little detail is!

Every pattern on the building is made of inlaid gem stones - some are iridescent and "glow" like in moonlight.

The tour guide took us girl's pictures this way.

Pr. Kelly made a friend on the back porch of the Taj.

Another building you can see across the river from the Taj.

Look like some kind of Ibis.

Another neat kind of bird.  The corner of the building there looks jagged but is actually three sided only.

A portico on the entrance building (led to the bathroom that you had to pay for but didn't want to even enter).

A hawk trying to cool off (its nest was nearby).

They had a marble inlay shop that had so many beautiful things!  It’s a good thing I left all my rupees in the village, or I would have been so tempted to buy something.  The “hawkers” were driving me crazy as we walked back down the long road to the bus.  I had learned not to look at them, but they would literally get in your face to try to persuade you to buy something.  A person has little personal space in India as is, but that was ridiculous.  We saw camels on the road back to the bus (for tourists).  They stunk so bad I could smell them quite a ways away.  But then, they could probably smell me too!  It was so hot!

In the bus with a/c I got so cold that night!  (everything was extreme here!)  Most everyone was paired off in twos and cuddled up as they slept.  I felt so lonely and cold, I cried.  Probably exhaustion had set in.  No one was awake to complain to.

Somewhere in the middle of the night we stopped at a roadside “dahrma” to eat.  I was hungry as we had only eaten once that day and I didn’t have money to buy junk food at the Taj.  Pr. Clark refused to eat as he had a bad experience at a dahrma in the past.  The hole-in-the-floor bathroom was so filthy I almost couldn’t eat after that.  We sat in plastic chairs outside with a few lights strung above, enough to see that the metal cafeteria trays were filthy.  The natives ordered for us and ate fast and well.  We ate what we dared (the worst lentil dahl I had there) and then were given a tour of the kitchen...  the paneer (goat butter) sat on a counter that obviously NEVER got washed off, a swirl of flies had a party on the paneer...  the pot the dahl came out of looked as though they had cooked several batches in it one after the other without ever cleaning out what stuck to the sides (lentils stuck an inch and a half thick on the insides of the pot).  The most sanitary thing there were the chapatis.  They are made... well, on the counter I suppose... but then they are thrown against the sides of the cement sided stove heated by wood coals, when the chapati starts to pull loose from the wall of the stove then you know it is baked through...  at least it gets the germs baked out!  As we loaded back into the bus, Pr. Kelly secretly handed us all charcoal tablets to take, in hopes that no one would get sick.  (I don’t think anyone did)  It was nice of the bus drivers to stop, I was really hungry.  But next time I will follow Pr. Clark’s example!!!

The chapati dough was slapped onto the inside of the wall of this oven until it baked and came loose.

Pr. John’s wife helped us dress in our saris.  (I never did figure our how to do it myself.)  She didn’t cinch everything so tight and arranged it so that I wasn’t as naked.  Christian Indians dress more modestly than the rest of the natives just like Christian Americans.

We had services at our village church (the other two villages were not there this time).  And we were presented with more garlands and a beautiful prayer shawl.  Each of us shared something for the service.  I told the children’s story of how God answered a prayer for my escaped quail to come back.  We handed out gifts which excited everyone.  They had nine baptisms today and three of them were little old ladies that I saw at the meetings every night, and the elder’s son.  The baptisms seemed more reverent at this church.  The forward girl came up to me just before we left.  I got the translator to explain to her a “mission” I had for her.  I had nine little pictures (cut out of a magazine) that I wanted her to give to eight people and keep only one for herself.  I told her that it was a very important mission and asked her to promise to keep only one for her family.  She looked like it would be a very difficult mission - I could tell that she wanted to keep them all for herself.  But I have hopes that somehow that little mission would teach her the fun of sharing with others and being kind.

Being served a nice Sabbath lunch - chapati and a banana (the pop was always good because it was cold!).

Waiting for transportation to take us back to the hotel, and then for the bison to get out of the road.

It was a melancholy departure.  I took one last look at “our” village from my spot in the back of the Sumo Tata.  I could see that the children who were waving felt as though there would be no more excitement in their village from now on.  And I wondered if anything important would take root in their minds.  What happened there in the last two weeks anyway?  I felt as though I had lived in Bible times - stucco huts, sandaled feet, people cooking over fires, oxcart rides and all.  They looked at us as if we were heros with strange stories to tell.  I realized that my country is much more fake than theirs - we with our endless entertainment, painted cover-ups, picture advertisements, and symptom-masking drugs.  And they wondered at un-cultured Americans who don’t even know to take their sandals off when they enter a church.  They had fun dressing us up; I had fun playing their drums.  I couldn’t believe that they saw no reason to bury their waste and trash.  They couldn’t believe that we flew all the way to their country to tell stories about our God.  I saw in a few faces that the hope I have in my Savior was a hope they also longed for and embraced.  I hope they saw in my face the love of that God who allowed me to go all that way to speak about Him.

Looking back toward the village as we left Ballawana for the last time.

FACES OF INDIA

A flower of India.

Steve with some of his new friends.

Can't you tell he's a P.K.?!

A Christian young lady with real potential.

A dedicated Christian man, elder of a village church.

Wanting to be accepted.

Hindu baby painted to keep the evil spirits away from it.

A dedicated big sister.

Still without hope, but at least in the place to learn!

India's future men.

Christian woman dedicating her child to God.

Young girl making her decision to follow Jesus.

The ride back to the hotel was incredibly hot as almost all of our team was stuffed into that little Sumo Tata (four of us in the hatchback!  I couldn’t have told you which of the eight tangled legs were mine because they were numb from sitting in such a strange position).  I took a two hour nap at the hotel.  We had a vespers in Pr. Clark’s room tonight.  Then I helped Pr. Kelly and Nathan pack up.  We left on the long journey to Hyderbad in the “cool” of the night.  At the airport we waited for Alfred for 1 1/2 hours (he was traveling part way with us).  By now I was used to such waits.  Finally, said goodbye to Locksmaya the taxi driver.  He loved Matt and Josie’s CD that I gave him and had played it over and over each night as we traveled to and from the village.  Slept a little in the plane, I think.  It seemed like a one hour flight.