Day One in Kolkata

We can do no great things; only small things with great love.
-Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Yesterday morning, Levi and I went for a walk through center city Kolkata at 5 am. Impromptu markets sprung up around us as we made our way through the momentarily quiet streets. Tarps were strung up across the city blocks, goods arrived at a hurried pace, and shop keepers emerged from the backs of their carts where they had slept the night before. Again I was struck by the dense textures of sights and smells. Levi and I have an ongoing conversation going about the lack of sense memory for the smells we are encountering. Our brains spin tirelessly trying to place the complex odors with something like: coriander, wet dog, cut grass, food rot. Often we find ourselves unable to decide whether a fragrance is the most enticing or revolting we have ever experienced in our lives. Somehow, it always seems to be both. What is sure is that everything here is extreme; the most beautiful, the most horrible, the most saddening, the most joyful, the most enjoyable, the least comfortable. We walked for hours and saw the sun rise high into the sky and as we intuitively found our way back to the hotel, we found ourselves at the gate of Mother Teresa's house and now resting place. It seemed the perfect way to begin our time in Kolkata, stumbling through the streets cluttered with litter and refuse with wonder-filled eyes, wide like a child, we find ourselves standing at the door where one of the greatest treasures of modern humanity lived and worked. THAT is Kolkata to me.
The sun stares us down and we retreat to our room. We will go today into the red light district for the first time. Our eyes are wide and we seek the treasures, the beauty, the joy, the one in front of us whom we have been sent to love.