So, in search of that peaceful and gentle way, my mind travels back to Hodko, the cultural and nature retreat I started to write about last newsletter.

And I again imagine the gentle breezes of the desert as I sit in the shade on my Bhunga's little front porch. And I reflect back on a day of travels out to the surrounding hamlets, meeting the craftspeople working in wood, textiles, leather, ceramics. The craftspeople still doing incredible handiwork with a personal touch and a flair that makes me so pleased to support them, purchase directly from them and build a cultural connection with them. One man, a builder of Bhunga's tells stories to me in the local language, Kachchhi, of his trip to build a Bhunga in Saxony in Germany at the invitation of a Folk Art Museum there. He proudly shows the newspaper clippings, the proclamation from the mayor of the German city, all in German of course! Thank goodness for those German classes I took in Paraguay. And in Fort Collins! Because I wasn't understanding too much from his Kachchhi explanation!

As I sit on that shaded porch and watch the world around me turn golden with the setting desert sun, I think of my entry onto the Rann, the massive salt flat that separates India from Pakistan. The immense expanse of white salt, the constant, hot wind off the flat, the absence of all sounds except the wind, all so refreshing after the constant sound of a city of 20,000,000 or so inhabitants!

My mind wanders back to one night earlier. To my trip to the highest point in the Kachchh, Drobana. Where I watched the sunset over the India Bridge, the last civilization for hundreds of kilometers as the road becomes ruts in the salt of that same Rann. As with most any 'auspicious' location in India (oh, how the do Indians love to use that word - auspicious!), there is a temple. I enter as the sunset ashram (religious ceremony) awakens the mountain top with drums and bells. I'm given the opportunity to partake of the sweet milk used in the ceremony and follow the lead of the other participants, anointing myself with the final drips left in my cupped hand. Then we all head to the eastern side of the mountain to watch a tradition that has been going on for decades. The ceremonial rice that has been used by the Hindu monks here is carried out to a rock outcropping - and the foxes close in for a generous and 'blessed' meal! As night closes in, the shadows of the foxes fade into the gathering darkness.

Meanwhile, back here on the porch of my Bhunga, I hear the beginnings of the evening's musical entertainment. Its another way this wonderful retreat is helping to keep the local traditions alive. Each evening a different group, each from different traditions, presents music and dance in what feels to be a very authentic setting. We sit on mats and carpets, around the campfire, enjoying! But my mind returns to that mountain top for one last memory before I go over to the campfire for the music

We begin to climb back up the hillside on that mountain top, refreshed by the temple ceremony and exhilarated by the beauty of those foxes. And as we had back toward the jeep, I have my first contact with chief of the border patrol unit that mans this outpost, sharing the space with the temple and the foxes. After passing such a wonderful evening here, I'm bit concerned. Because I do not have the proper paperwork, as a foreigner, to be this close to the Pakistani border! But my driver and the local leader of the Hodko village assembly who came along, put me at ease, striking up conversation with the border patrol chief. I'm still not certain if my 'illegal' status ever came up. But I know that the border patrol chief really liked my hat! And when he put it on and I got my camera out and offered to take his picture, any barriers or fears that there had been were immediately gone.

You know, digital cameras, where you can instantly show people their own image, they can really help you out!

And now back here in Mumbai - it's spring break! Even though I still have stories from Christmas - stories of camel treks and bicycling through the Indian countryside, stories of forts and yes, the Taj Mahal - they must wait! Until my return from the Kingdom of the Thunder Dragon!