What is it like being on the World Race?
I’ll tell you what, even on the average day, it never runs out of surprises.
Let’s take a few Sundays ago for example (2/27/22)…
I woke up around 7:30am, and talked with the Lord a bit. Then, I tromped downstairs to our public kitchen, ate breakfast in less than ten minutes, and hid my cereal bowl on a shelf to finish washing it later.
Upon completing this abbreviated version of a morning routine, I hurried to the top floor of the house, sat on a pallet couch, and talked to one of our squad coaches on the phone for the first time since being on the race. (Cue crying through half of the conversation.)
View of sunrise from the top floor of the YWAM base where we stayed in Tbilisi, Georgia.
Afterwards, I met with my team for “Team Time.” We watched funny videos and gave each other constructive and/or encouraging feedback pertaining to the past day.
Once finished, we got ready to leave for church and meet several YWAM folks at the door. Together we forged our way to the “bus stop” through wind so strong it felt like I couldn’t walk in a straight line.
Road to the “bus stop.” (Photo credit: Taylor Hall)
We rode into town in the shuttle van and hit our stop about twenty minutes later where we piled out and headed to the subway. Our team treasurer let us all through 1 “turnstile” using the same subway card 6 different times, and we jumped onto 2 different subway trains in sequence. (The later of which squished my teammate in the door because she almost didn’t get off in time.) From there we walked to church while trying to both 1: keep track of the locals who were guiding us and 2: avoid getting run over.
A hop, skip, and a jump later, we arrived at a huge graffitied building, entered a courtyard, and unexpectedly bumped into our squadmates.
(Photo credit: Joanne Hoffmann )
We chatted about how we happened to end up in the same location and proceeded into a rented room with wooden-seat chairs that were set six feet apart in every direction.
(Photo credit: Madie Busey)
Between the 14 of us, we helped push the church over it’s normal capacity; and additional seating needed to be brought from a different room to accommodate everyone.
Then, it was time for worship. Worship songs were sung and written in two different languages, and the entire sermon was translated from English into a local language. When the sermon was finished, the church broke into small groups to pray for the war going on two countries away; and, post service, congregation members were invited to be filmed for a video of encouraging words for churches in Ukraine.
As video clips were filmed and people visited together, my squadmates discussed logistics, made smalltalk, and described the World Race to congregation members… and I went on the adventure of trying to find a bathroom in a foreign country.
I followed the red, spray-painted WC (and accompanying arrow) down two floors to a chilly hallway with a set of barn doors. After waiting awkwardly in line while people walked past me to the building’s exit, I entered the ginormous, one-stall, closet bathroom and locked the barn doors behind me. I found the flush chain dangling above my head, and washed up next to a sign that read (in multiple languages of course) something to the effect of… “as everyone hopefully knows, you should wash your hands for as long as it takes you to sing happy birthday twice.”
After returning upstairs to the hubbub of fellowship, I dictated the directions to the bathroom to one of my teammates, and waited for everyone to finish their respective conversations.
When the majority of us were present and corraled, we moved to a nearby coffee-shop where our squad leader gave a surprise announcement indicating that we have the freedom to visit a nearby country and do work there this month instead of in our current country (Georgia). A series of logistical questions followed, and a repetition of information to stragglers.
Directly after the meeting, our team treasurer attempted to buy bus tickets online for our previously scheduled travels (the next day) to the other side of Georgia; however their bank card didn’t work (a not unexpected occurrence). So she headed to the train station with our team leader to buy tickets in person. While they were gone, I sat at the coffee shop with my remaining teammates, worked on this blog, and attempted to organize a few of the several hundred photos on my phone from the past month. In due time, they returned, tickets in hand. Success!
By then it was about 3:00 in the afternoon, and we still hadn’t eaten lunch. So we took a vote and decided to head out for some traditional Georgian food.
(Insert an attempt to locate a Georgian Restaurant, which turned out to be a closed, frozen food place, as well as subsequent googling and phone navigation to a previously undiscovered restaurant.)
Street views during walk to restaurant…
(Photo credit: Madie Busey)
(Photo credit: Joanne Hoffmann)
(Photo credit: Joanne Hoffmann)
Once seated, my team perused the menu and ordered. We exchanged samples of dishes, remarked on how they were different than expected, and passed the time enjoyably. As we sat with emptied plates, half the table attempted to flag down a waiter for our bill, and the other half decided to head out early because the process was taking so long.
Georgian Restaurant (Photo credit: Taylor Hall)
Choosing traditional dishes
Waiting for food (Photo credit: Joanne Hoffmann)
Dumplings (Photo credit: Taylor Hall)
They headed straight from the Georgian restaurant to the multiple-floor McDonalds several blocks away where they ordered lunch round two. And upon successfully paying for our food at the Georgian restaurant, we headed to meet them at the golden arches. As they waited for their orders, we stood outside near a lady who was selling balloon flowers and balloon swords and chuckled to each other about the nonsense English words aesthetically plastered across the outside walls of McDonald’s (such as “mothering” and “responsibility”).
(Photo credit: Madie Busey)
Once food was attained we headed back to the subway, took two trains, excited the subway, and jumped on the shuttle bus which trundled back up to the YWAM base.
I entered the house, our current home, nuked myself a bean and cheese quesadilla, and got to talking with one of the local YWAM staff. It was good to have the opportunity to hear about her heart for the United States and her desire to minister there.
The rest of the evening was full of communicating with teammates about plans, packing for our travels the next day, and wondering what time we might be leaving for the train station in the morning.
Long past dark, I set my alarm for an early start and laid my head back… ready to do it all again tomorrow.
