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Eventually, you slow down at the ashram, but for me, at least, it’s not really by choice. For example —
I spent the better part of my second day here running – no, that’s a lie; in 90-plus weather, only the cattle run, and that’s only because the cowboys-on-bikees prod and shout.

(-Note to Self: INSERT video when a computer appears with the capability of showing the cattle movement a few dozen meters from the hut )

Back to my “Running” theme: I had found fresh bat droppings in my room the first evening after dinner. I kept vigil throughout the night, hearing all manner of sounds,mostly scratching (geckos) and scurrying (spiders? the odd piece of paper?).

At breakfast the next morning, the Naturalist in our crew, familiar with my various phobia of two years ago (mainly, non-existent rats) came to have a look. RESULT: Geckos, 3; Bats, 0.


Sister Shirley is still here, still possessing her perennial smile, which belies the rigorous life the Camaldolese sisters, brothers, and priests live at the ashram.


And I’m here, too – at last!


One of the great delights of this place is [entirely unsolicited] Room Service:colder-than-lukewarm afternoon juice.
Afternoon room service