Saturday 28 January. Time to simply BE

Characteristic of many emerging countries, there's a resourcefulness and resilience that belies western sensibilities. I first noticed it at one of the shrines, when I realized that young men were recollecting the flowers placed on the tombs along with plastic bags disgarded at the door by the piglrims and repackaging them for the next wave of visitors. Empty water bottles are gold, used for everything from selling Gangas water to carry for puja, to one man's ingenious system of piping 'drinking' water from a public faucet across the stone sink into a 40 gallon jug on the ground, three liter sized bottles cut and formed to a temporary water duct. Fabrics are repurposed from sari to quilt to pillow cover or window shading as sections wear thin. And this morning it took three explanations for me to understand that "no, I cannot give you or even sell you a 'go cup' for your unfinished coffee," because the boss reconciled cups with register receipts.

Mornings there's an American migration down the trail to a 'real' coffee shop. It's nice to sit in the shop window looking across the road to the river before returning to the hotel for provided breakfast: oatmeal, vegetable paddies, onion pakora and jellied toast with the omnipresent masala chai. If you oversleep it's gulp and run or sip and take half back with you. So OK, I bought a second cup to go in cardboard and will bring the empty paper back with me for tomorrow's fix.

Today I prefer to be alone - not easy with so many warm and friendly companions, new and old, eager to share adventure and experience. After breakfast I did a balance for a fellow journeyer, then set off at a liesurely pace for my coveted Ayurvedic massage appointment. I'm really picky about who I allow to work on me, so apprehension followed me in the door of the tiny reception area of Baba Center on the hill. A tiny sprite of an Indian woman leads me through a curtain into a dimly lit and richly fragrant room and bids me strip and lie down on the floor mat. By the end of the hour I'm a convert. With hands, elbows and feet she expertly massages my whole body with specific oils for various areas from the top of my head (ecstatic) to the very tip of each little toe (pop!). A good dose of accupressure and tai massage completes complete relaxation of every twinge and complaint.

Rounding the bend back towards the German cafe I pick up another yoga pant and t-shirt - this one embroidered with the flower of life. Then I spot it. A 'real' back-packing back pack for US$55 that in the states would run in the hundreds. I'll need a second bag to check coming home to carry my hoard of pashmina gifts and hand-made paper journals. This bag's a find in a couple of days of 'finds.'

I write to you now from a German Bakery (the best of several here) on the east bank of Luxman, northern edge. There's a music and drum ritual going on across the river, visitors and expats come and go throughout the afternoon. The sun shines across my lap as I spill forth these memories for you, the peace of the day wrippled by the occasional beep of a scooter horn or hierarchical squabble of monkeys on the bridge below. There's so much to see and do, but today is a day to BE so I'll sit here awhile longer, until it's time to climb the hill for sunset yoga on the roof once more.