In general, I am caught off guard. A remodeled kitchen leads to cleaning out and repainting my pantry, which leads to picking up a box of Tazo Organic Chai Tea (which I don’t like). For some reason, (probably to put off actually working,) I decide to read the box.
“DID YOU KNOW?
In the foothills of the Himalayas, chai wallahs can be found serving up steaming cups of sweetly spiced chai to wandering souls.”
Yes. I did know.
And suddenly, I am there. I can feel the small, stained brown, angular, hot glass in my hand. I see a wrinkled, skinny old man in a knit cap squatting on the ground watching me watching him take drags on a cigarette in between sips of his chai.
That was unexpected, but sure enough, I’m there.
From 1999-2011 I lived in the country of India as a wife and a missionary.