Back from Paradise

" I can do everything through him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:13

My poor Hindi handwriting copied from one of the New Market girls

We're all back from Paradise.

We took off from Kolkata yesterday at 8pm after a day of final gift shopping, leaving me with nothing but Rs2, and a painfully slow meal, don't start us on that episode.

Check-in was also slow. I had to unpack to show that the gift I'd got for my Mum wasn't a bomb. It took a few minutes to get through the various layers of security I had established around my ruck.

As we gained altitude I looked down on Kolkata. It looked wonderful, as wonderful as cities always do from that height and at that time of night. Chains of golden lights criss-crossing the moon lit city. Then I spotted the flood lit Victoria Memorial and the Hooghly bridge, clearly visible. With these points of reference I looked down on the Tollygung region where Anandaloy should be having their time of devotion, Park Street where Saddam was most likely trying to sell his chewing gum for Rs10, and New Market slum area where I have no idea what might be happening at that time. The distance made it look like any other city, but I knew that close up those chains of golden lights were the filthy, frantic, ferocious streets of Kolkata (ferocious for the sake of alliteration, but true also). I could get poetic about the lights being the little points of hope and love I'd met in that dark crazy place, but I'll leave you with the thought and let you form your own words. I looked down and refused to be hypnotised into thinking it was like any other city.

Transfer at Mombai was a little rushed but we made it and so did our luggage, for which I was thankful to God and not a little impressed by Jet Airways. Heathrow then became one of those sudden and shocking anti-climax endings. We had just a little energy left to arrange for a final picture. This is what you look like after 4 weeks in Kolkata and 10 hrs in aircraft:

The picture is low res for the sake of the ladies.

One by one people left with their lifts or to get connecting flights. Goodbyes and hugs and definite hopes that we'll remain in touch.

I left to get a coach and train back to Bristol. London Heathrow and Bristol city centre: I imagine this sunny Friday morning is a poor time to make a fair comparison, but this country seems too quiet. It's peaceful, it's clean, it's spacious. After Kolkata Bristol appeared like one of those unnerving utopia planets in Star Trek, hiding some dark secret. It all looks just too good. Just where is everybody? I stopped walking half way between the bus and home just to listen to the wind rustling the leaves of the trees around me. The cars and buses are so quiet here. The traffic so orderly. How can we as a nation expect to get anything done without sounding our car horns every minute?

Got back to my house which God had kept for me. Good friends had left me a little milk and food. I shall have to tell them that the few fresh fruits on the kitchen work surface brought tears of joy to my face.

Lots of mail to get through, washing to sort out, but this afternoon was spent soaking in the bath and then looking over the gifts I had got for family. I was feeling relatively alert so decided to make it to evening with only a slight doze to try and get into UK time.

Over the coming days and weeks I'll chew over what I've seen and done. I'll keep blogging for the time being. Why stop? I'd like to remember the wonderful people I've met and the evidence I've seen that abundant life is possible without the western luxuries, even easier to get hold of.

I'll be posting some of my favorite photos over the next weeks too.

Below - a rickshaw rank: