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In walked Pi Bu with a bloodstain the size of a salad plate on his pant leg. I could smell that his pants were soaked in urine. He scowled at us. Refused to undress. Didn’t want to shower.

The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started. Jordan, Travis, and I had been sitting under the awning of the Soymilk Factory for the past half hour, watching, waiting.

The older woman stopped right in front of me. Turned, slowly. Stared. The train station was busy at this time of day, and people had to halt and sidestep in order to get around her.

Navigating the streets of Kolkata is an adventure. A loud, strong smelling, and often messy adventure. A majority of the time we don’t know where we are going- and usually hope someone else does.

Orientation was nothing like I thought it would be. To be honest, it was the longest 5ish days I have experienced in a while…in the best way possible.

There were almost twenty of us circled in a room smaller than my bedroom. The sweat from the metro and our walk gave the room a physical smell which reflected my own anxieties.

The moment I stepped out of the metro station I fell in love. El Zócalo, el corazón de la ciudad - the heart of the city.

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