VARANASSI --> KATHMANDU

TRAIN TO GHORAKPUR
The "3 Musketeers" boarded the night train from Varanassi to Gorakhpur, India- near the border of Nepal. After getting on the wrong cab (with about 1.7 million Indians inside, and an average temperature approaching 180 degrees F), we realized that we had bought FIRST CLASS seats. This meant, although we had no air conditioning, and no glass in the windows, we had our own private room. Private, that is, until during the middle of the night, when random Indian dudes would jar open the closed door that refused to lock, hop onto the top bunk, and sleep for 2 hours. This happened a few times during the night. The 3 of us were each too tired to care- or at least too tired to fully recognize what was transpiring within our private room.

COULD I DISCUSS JESUS ON A TRAIN, SAM I AM? YES YOU COULD, GREEN EGGS AND HAM
Before we went off to bed, Greg, Stephano and I had a wonderful conversation about each of our faiths. Stephano explained his search for faith and Greg and I got to talk about our faith in Jesus. It was a respectful and uplifiting conversation. We got to hear about Stephano's struggles with the church, having grown up in a Catholic home, and why he believes that Buddhism is a better fit for his life. Greg and I explained why we believe Jesus is the truth, and how we have each come to trust in that truth. I tried to explain that faith in Jesus does equate to some static, ritual-based dogmatic creed, but that it is a wibderfully adventurour, personal relationship with the living God. Even though not all Christians exhibit this truth in their lives, that does not disprove the truth of the Bible. At one point, Stephano just flatly asked: "So how do I get to Jesus without all this other church stuff?" It was a profound question. I find myself asking the same thing- when I see the inconsistencies between the Jesus of the Bible and the Jesus professed by many Christians. Sometimes there is a disparity. Stephano saw how attractive the TRUE Jesus is, but how He is often missed by Western culture. We tried to assure Stephano that anyone can, in fact must, come directly to Jesus- without anything else tacked on. Simply Jesus. In the end, it was really just good to hear where Stephano was coming from, and hear his thought process on these important and all-too-easily dismissed topics.

In the morning, we arrived to the sun gently streaking across the north-Indian countryside. It was beautiful. Soon after, we arrived. Transferring directly onto the adventurously ghetto local bus, we rode for the next 2 hours to the border of Nepal. Grabbing a quick breakfast at the border town then passing through border control, we approached the sign. The long-awaited sign. "Welcome to Nepal", it read. It was liberating walking across that border- out of India and into Nepal. Immediately, the air was fresher, the grass greener, the people more friendly, and most importantly, mush less cow shit.

NEPALI MINI BUS
As we had only been traveling for 12 hours at this point, we knew we couldn't be nearly done. And in fact, we were right. We boarded a Nepali mini-bus for Kathmandu: a 1970's Eurovan meant to hold 8 that in fact held 16 of us. There were 4 in each row that should have been either 2 or 3, depending on the row. I believe they added in an extra row somehow as well. It defied the general principles of physics. Einstein would have been baffled by this minibus.

The 3 of us rode on with 13 other Nepalis along the bumpy, windy road for the next 10 hours. And then it happened: the driver inserted a CD, and Blink 182's "All the Small Things" came on. At this point I had seen alot, but I NEVER would have guessed I would be driving through the countryside of Nepal with 13 natives, listening to Blink 182 songs from 1999. To be honest, Greg and I sang along. It was too perfect- how could we not? Don't judge.

As we drove, the scenery turned from "incredibly beautiful" to "the most beautiful landscape I had ever seen". Massive green hills diving into a gently winding river, with small hand-crafted homes dotting the rice-pattied hillsides. Narrow pedestrian bridges suspended high over the river, connecting two quiet villages on either side. A girl and her mother carrying a basket full of vegetables across a bridge, and two elderly men talking with eachother on the side of the road, overlooking the river. Every inch was green, save for the river itself. It was serene. It was simple. It was rich.

Though I had about 6 inches too little of leg room, and my knees were in my stomach, I didn't want the drive to end. It was breathtaking. Add to this my iPOD- playing Jon Foreman's albums for both Stephano and myself. It just fit.

Against my wishes, eventually, we did arrive in Kathmandu- around 10:00pm. We hopped into a taxi, and he drove us over to Robbie's house. Robbie and his wife, Leona greeted us out on the street, as they don't have an address- it's just a street. But it worked.

WHAT IS YOUR VISION?
Meeting Robby Rai, like being around Robby Rai in any capacity, was an experience. He was very passive, slow to speak, subdued. He and Leona showed the 3 of us up to our top-floor room, and then Robby sat down to talk with us. He waited a moment for silence, then looked at Stephano and asked, "Brother Stephano, what is your vision?" I couldn't believe it. He didn't ask Greg or me anything, just out of nowhere asked Stephano to share his vision with us all. Stephano gave a fine answer, but it was so unlike any other first interaction with another person I had experienced.

We went to bed that night excited to finally be in Kathmandu- glad to be in a place where we didn't have to pack up and leave the next day. Needless to say, we slept well.

Thank you God!