But in the meantime, you can follow along on my latest adventure here.

Saying goodbye at Assisi to Sister Rose, George, Sylvia and a sleepy Sophie.

A courtyard shot of SEAM (Southeast Asian Mission). Just before I left for the trip, and during it, I received a few more of your generous donations. Your contributions will go to this organization.

Touching our toes and just getting warmed up for our mini-yoga session at SEAM.

Chilling out in downward dog.

Striking their best camel pose.

George, a volunteer and teacher from California, leads us in a spirited round of Five Little Monkeys — always a crowd pleaser.

I mean, I’ve been attempting to do it myself most mornings on the rooftop. But I get funny looks sometimes from the housewives hanging laundry, and an especially long stare from a man who brushes his teeth on the higher rooftop behind our guest house. (Like clockwork he’s there, at 6:45 am brushing ever so diligently).

So, it’s not been the best setting to get my bliss on.

So I arranged to take a yoga class this morning, my final day here. Now, I’d heard that yoga here isn’t quite what we’re used to back in the States. And Stephen told us that despite the fact that India is the birthplace of yoga, it’s not really practiced by everyday folks. So erase all your perceptions of India as being this place where yogis roam the streets, enlightened and dispensing ancient wisdom.

Still, I wanted the experience. So Stephen dropped me off this morning at a yoga center not far from the guest house. The man was polite and greeted me kindly. But we got to business so fast, I didn’t catch his name. He gestured for me to sit on the cotton floor mat in a small, dingy studio — exhaust fumes and ruckus coming in through the windows from the streets below. (Sort of like doing yoga in New York City).

He sat in front of a large, wall-sized poster that pictured and numbered all of the basic asanas (poses). Over an hour’s time, we went gently and simply through the poses, stopping to take 2 to 5 long, deep breaths in between. It was great to stretch and breathe and open up my tight limbs. And it was just a cool experience to take the time to do that on my last day — all lead by a man who didn’t speak much English. But just like painting with Ravi and Gree, you find you don’t really need to know too many words to understand each other.

And so with yoga on the brain, I suggested to my fellow team members that we do a little yoga session with the kids at SEAM tonight. I was a bit nervous about it, though, worried that I might not be able to hold their attention with my yogic fun and games.

So we lined the kids on the floor and did about 10 minutes or so of simple yoga poses with them — lots of breathing, lots of the sillier poses I thought they’d get a kick out of. It turns out, they did. They really took to it, and it was a great way to start our evening with them — on a very chill, and calm note. And it turns out, a past volunteer also did yoga with them recently. So after our little session, the kids started busting out all sorts of yoga poses they had learned — one at a time, proudly showing off their moves. It was all kinds of fun. (Oh, believe me. Pictures to come).

We wrapped up by passing around to them the cotton candy that some of the volunteers bought from a street vendor along the way. And then, it was so long to SEAM.

Earlier in the day, I went with the van to pick up the volunteers working today at Assisi. I wanted to say a proper goodbye to Sister Rose, who I didn’t get to see since I was sick on my last day. I wrote a little thank you note in her volunteer log, and she thanked me and gave me a wonderful checkered blanket as a gift. She told me to take care of myself. “You look dull,” she said. I think she meant to say, I still looked a little pale and under the weather. I told her how sad I was to leave — and that I’m very seriously considering a return next year.

On my way out, I saw the kids lined along the floor against the wall, napping in the cool darkness of the tile room. I looked for the little body I knew to be Augustine’s, tip-toed over and saw his eyes were open. I brushed his arm and he looked up. I kissed my hand, put it to his cheek and waved goodbye. He smiled and waved his tiny hand back and forth, and we both kept waving until I walked out the door.

Having missed my last day there, I was so glad to walk out with that little moment.

And now, dear readers…here’s to my final post in the Zoom cafe. My airport ride will be arriving in 45 minutes. Let’s hope my heavy bags make it onto the flight, and that they resurface at the airport in JFK.

But oh, there’s more to come. Keep reading — there’ll be all kinds of fun to see here after I arrive back home.

So long!

J

So I spent the afternoon tossing and turning in bed, my bangle bracelets catching on the mosquito netting around me. I couldn’t fall asleep. And I couldn’t quiet my mind. I thought fresh air might do me good (*fresh* air being relative here, of course). So I went up to the rooftop of our guest house.

When I got there, I sat in the little plastic picnic chair, as I’ve done every morning. But instead of praying or meditating as I usually do in that chair, I just found myself bawling. I’m talking weeping — as if my last friend and my dog had just died. (Let’s pretend I don’t hate dogs for that analogy to work).

I can’t explain what came over me exactly. The rush of the entire experience flipping through my mind, like a slideshow. The feeling that I only just got here, only just scratched the surface and I already have to leave. The guilt of having missed out on Assisi and not seeing those kids one more time, and not meeting the regular crew of kids who returned to day care there today after the long holiday break. I don’t even know if it’s exactly all that. All I know is that I was absolutely overwhelmed with sadness.

I cried it all out, following advice my father gave me not long ago after I’d had a particularly rough day: “Cry it out. Clean it out.” (He’s a plumber, so he likes drainage, ya know?) So, I cleaned it all out, wiped my runny nose, dabbed my puffy eyes and pulled myself together to go to SEAM.

Stephen suggested I bring my laptop to show the kids all of the pictures I’ve taken here, especially the photos and videos of them. And so we huddled them together, cross-legged on the floor. I sat in (another) plastic picnic chair. (This time, no tears). I scrolled through all the colorful pictures I’ve taken — of packed streets and vibrant colors, of sweet little faces and gracious people. And it was a chance to reflect back myself, to see where I started and where I came — sitting right there in the hall I had nervously entered two weeks ago, feeling blindfolded and uncertain of what to expect.

And when I got to the pictures and videos of them, they stood on their knees to see — pointing and laughing, thrilled to see their own images reflected back at them. It was pretty cool.

The group then serenaded me and Lucy, another volunteer wrapping up this week, with….The Jesus Song! It was lovely, and I did my best to sing along. (I’ve got it all on video, so I’ll be sure to post it when I return so you can all get a listen). Two of the children presented us with Thank You cards. On the inside is a class portrait-type picture of the group, with all of their little signatures. I told them I’d hang it up on my wall to remember them.

Rebecca did a quick change into a white dress to perform a “candle dance” for us. Her sister, Mikla, stood solo to sing a beautiful little song. And one teen boy (whose name I can’t remember, but whose signature tough-guy laugh I’ve got down pat — and torture him by mimicking it to him every chance I get), pulled out a box of matches, lighting them and putting them out in his mouth. (That prompted Ginny, one of the volunteers to shout warnings to the younger ones, “Now don’t you go trying that!”)

One by one, the kids came up and shook mine and Lucy’s hands, offering us the memorized goodbye, “Thank you. Please come again.” And I told them that yes, I’d like that very much.

The kids huddle around to see my photos.

Transcribing from a religious workbook, Rebecca shows off her typing skills. I took over the keys to try, and had forgotten how hard pressing down on the keys of a typewriter is compared to a computer. Makes me even more impressed with how fast she types.

The boys bunch in (maybe too closely) for a photo at SEAM.

Rebecca does a quick change into a white dress to perform her candle dance for us. She was so nervous, but did a great job.

Mikla, Rebecca’s sister, sings us a song.

After chugging some Sprite and eating a few tea biscuits, I felt good enough to continue onto Marina Beach — the second largest beach in the world. With it being the third and final day of Pongal, the beach would be a popular destination for people. Stephen suggested it would be a great place to “go see the crowds.”

Now, when he said this, I imagined it’d be like the colorful people-watching on the boardwalks of the Jersey Shore. But Stephen’s “crowds” actually turned out to be about 400,000 people, as estimated by the local newspaper. Throw in us 10 Westerners into the mix, and it got interesting.

We attracted curious stares and wild waves as soon as we stepped out of our van and onto the street. As we walk the long way down to the water, crowds of people surrounded us, shaking our hands as we wished them a Happy Pongal. Groups of folks followed us, asking to take our picture, and for us to take theirs. By the time we got down to the water, we were fully encircled by at least 100 people — maybe more. Finally three horse mounted policemen had to come to break up the crowd. It was so trippy — a lot of energy to take in, but a lot of fun to be a part of.

I ended up taking more video of the experience that photos. (And uploading video hasn’t worked for me). So here are a few that don’t really illustrate the Pongal Beach Madness, but are fun nonetheless.

This group of teenagers was one of dozens of clutches of people who stopped us along our walk.

A shot of one of the policemen breaking up the crowd. That little blonde head with the clip of flowers belongs to our dear Roma, an inspiration at 80 years old. She’s a retired nurse from Australia, and this is her 9th (and likely final) Global Volunteers trip. She says our India team (team #60!) is one of the best she’s experienced.

Eating sugarcane on Wednesday, (still) in celebration of Pongal. Lakshmannan and Isaac (left) taught me to pull at the bark with my side teeth, bite into the white, juicy flesh and then spit out the pulp onto the newspaper on the floor.

The sweet smile, captured on film. Augustine was a trip today, so much more animated than he was on Monday and Tuesday. He giggled a ton and actually let me pick him up and hold him without wriggling to the ground; he gestured for the hand-clapping game, and when I said “Vanakkam” to him (”Hello”), he repeated it, pressing his hands together, prayer-like, as is custom.

I’m feeling hesitant, feeling all sorts of things about leaving. This trip is wrapping up faster than I had imagined. While the other volunteers have at least one week left (some have another 3 to 4), I leave here late Saturday night for an early Sunday flight. As much as I’ve gotten out of this trip in such a short time, a part of me feels like I haven’t yet gotten all that I needed to get out of it. There’s so much more I want to soak in, and deeper work I’d love to do here. On the other hand, a hot shower and a grande Starbucks with soy milk would be nice.