Donal Conlon reveals how one man tricked his way into meeting Mother Teresa in India When he was leaving Ireland in 1973, people asked him where he was going. He often replied, "India": it was a fashionable destination then. The truth was that he didn't really know where, or for how long.He gave up his teaching. He had £450 in his pocket and a cheap khaki-coloured rucksack. He had neither maps nor guidebooks, though undoubtedly some existed. He was going to depend on meeting people and listening to their tales. He did not carry a camera; he was a traveller, not a tourist.Informally, it was accepted that the hippy trail, then in full swing, started in the Pudding Shop in Istanbul, across the park from the Blue Mosque.There in that small crowded café, smoke-polluted by tobacco and hash, those going met those coming back. The notice boards carried warnings of rip-offs and invitations to join forces.story_article_left1A first lesson: he fell for the classic money-changing trick in Istanbul. Counting out a roll of banknotes into his hand, in a black-market transaction, the changer shouted "Police!", stuffed the roll into his hands and ran.Most of the notes turned out to be newspaper. He staked out the spot for three days, found the changer, screamed "Police!" and got his money back.After six months of adventures in Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and Nepal, he arrived in northern India. He had to find work; he tried.His only marketable skill was as an English teacher but he discovered that educated Indians spoke English with an accent more desirable to them than his. Some travellers suggested he might find something in Thailand. He asked where that was.He went to Calcutta by train, into the chaos of Howrah station. Crossing the bridge, under which slept thousands, he was reminded that even poverty was a relative state.The work of Mother Teresa was already known at that time and her connection with Ireland had been mentioned in articles. He was beginning to clutch at straws. Might he not do some humanitarian work, might he not interview Mother Teresa and become a famous journalist overnight?He searched out the Sisters of Charity and made his way there one afternoon.He rang a bell. A sister came and informed him that Mother Teresa was busy and could not see anybody. She said to come another day. He said he was Irish but it had no effect.He bought a small notebook and pencil and retraced his steps the following day. A different sister gave him the same answer and left. He sat a moment alone, dejected and ready to leave when luck smiled.story_article_right2Mother Teresa herself came through the waiting room to show somebody out. He pounced and she agreed to sit. The lie he told then came from simple desperation: he said he was a journalist from an Irish newspaper.Mother Teresa sat on the edge of the wooden chair, full of nervous energy, fidgety, possibly thinking of all she had to do. She seemed too small for her habit and her face was already lined as if she had been working all her life under a harsh sun. She struck him as a fusion of toughness and compassion.He sat with pencil poised over his notebook as she described her work helping those on the street and in the hospice for the dying. Towards the end, she gave a wry smile and told him he must have a great memory. Laughing she said, "You have not written down one word I said."She invited him to come back that evening to join one of her teams going out on the street.After 20 minutes she ushered him to the door with a warm handshake and an affectionate smile. Later he went with three of the sisters and a brother as they distributed some food and medicines to the hungry homeless. It was a drop in the ocean among the tens of thousands sleeping out but a drop nevertheless.• Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za..