Every New Beginning...

 ...comes from some other beginning's end (thanks, Green Day & Semisonic).

Henry in front of his dorm

This has been a year of honouring endings and being brave about beginnings. This time last year, we had a newly minted high school graduate, then a college freshman, then a daughter who decided to step away from cheer, stick with swim and then try golf. I've become more and more aware of how important ending well can be in processing all that life throws our way. My fall semester in Clinical Pastoral Education in a hospital taught me this lesson in amplified ways. I sat with families who chose to donate their loved ones' organs after brain death was confirmed. I sat with parents of a baby born at 22 weeks as they said their goodbyes to the little one whose heart just wasn't developed enough to support life, but whose life made the hearts they impacted tangibly grow and grieve. I sat with families who gathered to bear witness to the lives of matriarchs and patriarchs whose baptisms were coming to completion. Ending well is a gift. And so, I look upon the reality that I've come to the end of my four years of seminary, that we've come to the end of Henry's freshman year in college, with deep, abiding gratitude and some grief. They are healthy bedfellows, after all, grief and gratitude. There's something about acknowledging endings that deserves whatever accompanying sadness because it somehow magnifies the gratitude that grows alongside. I think this is what makes us truly human.

I'm in Montana helping Henry sort his dorm room contents into two categories: storage unit & home. I've gotten to meet some of his friends in person for the first time and witness the life he's building here. It's a life I hear about but don't live with him and it's a beautiful life he's creating. Somehow, putting these pieces in storage for the summer seems holy - it embodies a promise to return, a celebration of growing into his own person, and the reality that our family home still nourishes his roots (likewise, it signifies how much hotter and humid GA is than MT and I'm a little jealous of that). 

The process has helped me better understand how I'm putting my own full-time student identity in storage for a bit - I will miss the conversations and wrestling that happened with and among my professors and peers in classes. I will miss seeing friends I've made in seminary regularly. Also, I am excited to practice what these classes and people have taught me along the way and have the freedom to focus fully on my call to ministry. Slowly but surely, I'm learning to leave my laptop alone after dinner - there's no more homework, no more double-checking syllabi (at least for me). I didn't know I needed this trip to MT to help me transition from four years of break-neck pace, a means sorting of my own storage unit vs. home belongings, a reminder to take time to see what's unfolding in front of me and internalize all that comes with it.

It snowed yesterday - the forecast had been for less than one inch of accumulation. I'd guess we got about 5-6 inches of snow, and it was glorious (at least for me - the locals in front of me getting coffee yesterday were visibly irritated by the snow's return). I found it magical - it made me slow down, it calmed my spirit, it fell with a quiet reverence. I took time to be grateful for the foundation that sustained me through this entire journey - my faith and my family. What a privilege it is for me to help Henry end this semester well. What a humbling honor it is to thank Philip, Lydia and Henry for helping me end this chapter well. What a gift it is to have had good company along the way.

Waking up to a winter wonderland outside my window

Left 90 degree humidity to enjoy this gorgeous respite!

Never thought I'd be a Jeep girl - and am grateful for those tires in this weather!

Snow is the very best thing weather ever did.

Graduation is 9 days away. There will be a new robe and hood, two diplomas, a funny hat. There will also be the people I love most in the world, laughter, celebration and gratitude. The latter is what sustains us all into whatever new beginning happens next. My prayer is to end this season well so I may walk into the next beginning with humility, grace, imagination, energy and love. For this is a life-giving ending, one that has been 25+ years in the making and I wouldn't change a thing. Thanks be to God!

Easter People

 It's Thursday after Easter Sunday, Philip and I are practicing empty nesters with Lydia exploring colleges with a buddy and Henry in Montana studying dutifully (please, Lord Jesus, hear our prayer). This was the first Easter the four of us haven't been together for Easter - a trend which is less and less jarring each time it happens. Years with lots of firsts are always complicated - they defy my conviction that I like change and remind me that I, too, am a creature of habit. What stopped me in my tracks this year was the conversation with Henry after Easter lunch with friends - I've always associated Easter with flowers (and pollen) and greening grass (and pollen) and bright, colourful outfits (and pollen). When we spoke with Henry on Easter Sunday, however, he was with friends on the side of Little Sacajawea Mountain hiking...in the snow!?! Easter Sunday and snow don't match in my mind - they don't even cozy up as friends. But here are the pictures to prove it (thanks to Henry's text):

There are no crocus peeking through, no azaleas in bloom - how do you pluck flowers to take to church to flower the cross when the earth is still sleeping under a blanket of snow? Even when we lived in Canada there were signs of Spring and rebirth when Easter arrived. This was mind blowing.

After I sat with this incongruent reality for a while, I was grateful for the way it expanded my thoughts. There's a reason why Easter is a season in the church, why we spend weeks leading up to Easter practicing penitence and reflection. We prepare annually for the nonsensical love that Easter celebrates - a love that means our days on earth are not the end of our stories for those who claim Christian as part of our identity. Each year we hear from the pulpit some version of "live as Easter people - full of hope, in response to the love and grace that God Incarnate gifted us - a love and grace we will not fully understand until we find ourselves face to face with our Maker in the afterlife".

I get why people may think Christianity doesn't make sense! The world doesn't make sense, that's for sure - radical love and grace and hospitality have no room in our day to day unless we choose them. I wonder if we Christians (me included) get ourselves all wound around the axle of human depravity 364 days a year and allow the hope of Easter to break through only one day a year when we dress up and order Easter lilies and hide eggs? I think we sometimes live as people blanketed by snow because really internalizing what Easter means and living as Easter people is just far too overwhelming to embrace? I'm finishing seminary and this sort of hope and glory is STILL hard to fathom - I've been studying this Jesus my whole life and very intensely for the last four years and He's still clouded in mystery! 

I guess the endgame for me is this - being Easter people doesn't always feel like freshly springing flowers, sundresses when it's just a tad too cold, bonnets, eggs and chocolate. Being Easter people means we have to live fully as we are in the moment - faithful to our reality and honest about who we are and where we are despite what the Sunday calendar tells us to do. I'd be lying if I said life as a lifelong Christian has always been easy and flowery. I'd be lying if I said I'd never been angry with God or with the Church or with people I love. And that's OK. God is big enough and loving enough to let us feel all the feels and still hold us in the palm of God's hand. So if this past Sunday felt like a snowy mountainside instead of a flower popping party, that's OK too. 

We are Easter people - that means God's love for us in unbreakable and un-quantifiable - even when we can't feel it. Just know that when you and I get glimpses of the joy, shock and redemption of Easter morning that it's a gift. And maybe, just maybe, we can be part of someone else's glimpse of the Divine when we try to love extravagantly, practice radical hospitality and lean into gratitude for the ways we experience new life over and over and over.

Transitional Parenting

Jan 2, 2024 - it's a new year, and while this entire season has certainly felt different, I don't know if I actually like its "new"ness. We're on a maiden voyage in this parenting adventure - having a kid (let's be honest - he's well on his way to adulthood) in their freshman year of college is virgin territory. We practiced during Thanksgiving week and my mom-ing that week wasn't top form. I hadn't anticipated how independence and living life would grow my boy so dramatically and it was jarring to anticipate my high school son coming home only to meet my college son who's knee deep in the process of his becoming. What I learned during that week at Thanksgiving was how both he and I needed to lean into this transition and trust each other as we figured it out. We had a heart to heart at the end of his Thanksgiving time at home and it finished with both of us having lots to think about.

Our man-boy came home on December 15th for Christmas. I had a new plan - all four of our family sat down and talked about hopes and expectations for our time together over Christmas. We landed on having dinner together every Sunday and at least 3 other times during the week. Henry and Lydia talked about how they'd share the car they both consider 'theirs'. Philip and I shared that we really enjoy having all 4 of us under one roof and wanted to have some fun together. Henry reiterated how important his time at the gym is for his sanity. I wrote our plans down on a calendar and posted it for everyone to see. On paper, we nailed it.

And yet - I found myself struggling with how woven together grief and gratitude are - especially in the midst of transition. No matter how many conversations defining our expectations, no matter the accuracy of the calendar, no matter the fact that Christmas comes every December 25th, this year was different. And while I love having everyone home, I miss the wonder that came with anticipating Santa's arrival, I miss the joy of Christmas parades, I miss that late bedtime on December 24th, I miss having children. And also - I delight in who my children have become and are becoming, I'm so proud of their character and independence, Philip and I celebrate they're growing into exactly the kind of people we prayed they'd become. But that delight, pride, celebration and gratitude is tempered by how quickly they've grown. People say time is a thief and it's so very true. I want to go back and slow it down because I'm afraid I missed some of the wonder and joy of parenting littles in the midst of trying to get it all done. 

Yet here I am. I am the mama of delightfully funny, smart, independent young adults who still need and want my guidance (at least sometimes). Being in a 'new year' is bittersweet. It brings fresh hope for all that is to come, but it also confirms another chapter has closed and I feel that more tangibly this year than ever. So this year, I'm leaning into the reality that grief and gratitude are siblings who live to balance each other and I'm trying to do the same. My ultimate goal is to honour the grief and focus on the gratitude, knowing that life marches on and there's so much more living to do. I pray I do this life, and my family, proud.

Kindergarten Didn't Prepare Me to Send My Kid to College

I've gotten sidetracked from blogging again - part of this is life, most of it, however, is the result of having handed my India travel journal to one of my offspring to read the birthday wishes I wrote because I missed their birthday while away and them not being able to find said journal until precisely three days ago. But I digress. I do intend to return to processing in writing the second half of my January trip to India but am processing as I go on this current adventure in Montana. First - I AM IN MONTANA. I'm in Montana, with my kid who's chosen Montana as the place to go to college - 3000 miles from home. What I've figured out is that India was completely surreal and is still seeping into my bones and that, so far, Montana is having more of a grounding effect on me. What a dichotomy!

Mama/Son Hot Springs Trip

Henry's decision to attend college at Montana State University also elicited a dichotomous response - on the one hand, he applied rather flippantly, and we all thought it a long shot; on the other, it consistently rose to the top of the conversation throughout the whole process. In the end, a piece of me is completely gobsmacked that our first born will be closer to Vancouver, BC, (13 hours away) than to Georgia (30 hours away) for the next four years while a piece of me is giddy with delight because this place fits him like a glove and there's a sacred union I'm watching develop between Big Sky Country and my Henry. Philip has seen it too - he brought Henry to visit MSU and they both fell in love. I've got the good fortune of being here while Henry attends orientation and I'm in love with this place and with the way it brightens my baby's world. Yep - still my baby - always will be.

Had to pull off on the way to Yellowstone to get this shot - no filter, picture from a PHONE.

You "hike the M" around here - he'll get to do this his first week on campus

You can't help but feel simultaneously small and "on purpose" with this backdrop

The views never stop

We had a day together, just Henry and me, on Sunday. Since we got in so late Saturday night, we slept in at our precious VRBO that is just perfectly appointed and located for this adventure (check out the Bozeman Bee Hive here). We ventured out, drove around campus, visited Murdoch's (a store Henry and Philip were directed to in April - it's great!), grabbed some lunch and hit the road for Yellowstone National Park. THE Yellowstone National Park. If I drive 88 miles from Marietta, GA, I can find myself in Athens, GA, or Chattanooga, TN, or Macon, GA. My kid is going to be living 88 miles from the granddaddy of national parks!

We weren't sure what to expect because we'd last entered Yellowstone from Cody, Wyoming. We learned as we googled over lunch that the park has 5 entrances and the one in Gardiner, MT is the second most popular - AND the only one open year round! We drove through the ceremonial park entrance, Roosevelt Arch, built in 1903, and walked around the small Arch Park before heading into the park proper. We wound our way toward Mammoth Springs. Oh. My. Word. Limestone, heat, calcium carbonate combine to create one heck of a show! I want to come back when there's snow on the ground to even better see the steam from the springs and the ways the colours change. 

President Teddy Roosevelt gave a speech here - this is the ceremonial entrance to the park

Mammoth Springs was unexpected and amazing - strap in for photo overload

This jaunt grounded me in ways that being on the other side of the world didn't. First, I am here with my own Henry and it's just the two of us. Second, we're both introverted so driving to the park and back we were perfectly content to drink in the scenery without a lot of talk, but we also laughed a lot - moments I will treasure forever. Third, there's something about so closely bearing witness to the literal bubbling and gurgling of the earth that reminds me of how intimately connected we are to her and to each other. Seeing little baby geysers spew water up from the ground, watching literal boiling springs and experiencing the colours the minerals mixed together create is a reminder that the same Creative Maker who dreamed up hot springs also dreamed up me and my boy. What an experience to share and what an affirmation that Henry has discerned well where his next steps are meant to be laid.

Monday morning I dropped Henry at the dorms and I went over to Parent Orientation (no photos - I tried to play cool). During the presentation I had this moment of memory about the day we toured Kindergarten and I thought almost out loud, "Kindergarten didn't prepare me for THIS." And it's true - if I thought watching that five year old independent kid walking into elementary school for the first time was a doozie, well I don't even have a word for this one. But here we are! The world keeps spinning, I'm proud beyond measure and as much as I want to hold on tight I know it's time to let go (whew! Those words sting just typing them). Our boy's ready.

The Bobcats - we're now forever fans! The University hosted the parents in the stadium's Club Level for a reception and it was lovely

Stadium with a view - I thought Death Valley had the corner on it, but I think MSU has it beat

It's Tuesday night. I've tried really hard not to encroach on Henry's space. I've kept myself busy (thank God for wifi and laptops and the ability to work remotely). I got a massage (thanks for that birthday gift, Philip! And check out Canyon River Spa, ask for Maggie, she's great!), I meandered Bozeman and naturally looked for real estate because I could totally live here. And tonight, the feelings have caught up. My boy is doing GREAT - I've heard all of 8 words from him. I tried to play cool and texted him, "having fun?" He responded, "very much - taking a nap and then playing football" - a 7:30pm nap - he's definitely a college kid now. This is really the first time I've cried in awhile about this impending transition and it's such emotional whiplash! Some of the tears are relief - he's so OBVIOUSLY in the right place. Some are pride - he's confident, independent, level-headed and fun. A lot of them are sad - how couldn't they be? And a lot of them are happy - he's forged his own path and everything about being here feels right.

Many folks have seemed a little horrified on my behalf that our boy is going to be 3000 miles from home - some days I'm a little horrified by it myself. But I'm not sad that this is his decision - I just can't be. Our prayer since our children were born was that they'd dream big dreams and chase them, and now we get to bear witness to this dream coming true. What a privilege! I'm going to miss him like mad (I think some of me already misses him), and I will no doubt cry many tears when we say see you later. It will take some adjustment to being a party of 3 in our house - our family is forever changing. There's definitely grief in this growth process, BUT the life that's springing forth is a treasure. May we all lean into where we feel most present, most grounded, most alive and may we help cultivate space for others to do the same. I am forever grateful for the example my son is setting for me.

Live big, buddy! We're cheering for you!

Diversions

I LOVED this sign for the hotel breakfast buffet

Providential messaging...

Sleeping in was a blessed miracle. We all needed this change of pace. Ironically, I'd had conversation with my travel mates about wanting to explore stories in the Bible to see if sabbath time may actually be more of a preparation for what's next than preparation for what's to come. It turned out our late morning start meant we were in a far better place mentally for the events the day would hold. Originally, we were slated to visit a temple to Shiva. Alas, our dear Trudy (we named each of our vans) planned otherwise. Halfway to the temple, and about 35 minutes from the hotel we had just left, our driver pulled off the side of the road and Trudy died. 

One of several water buffalo herds passing us by

Rice paddies across the road

Another water buffalo herd going the other way...

Cow friends

Our driver offered his finest efforts to resuscitate her - pulling a panel off the interior of the van, wielding a screwdriver and refilling water - but it was to no avail. After about two hours on the roadside, several herds of passing water buffalo, observation of the back breaking work demanded by rice paddies, countless horn honks and a couple of photos from onlookers, Trudy's replacement arrived. We affectionately named her Tiffany, she was a good van. Sadly we had to forego the temple and make our way to the Tiraputi airport.

It is a small airport with very cool architecture. We were boarding our IndiGo flight to Bangalore and the IndiGo staff were very accommodating. Not surprisingly, some of our luggage was overweight and we were facing extra baggage fees...until...the staff asked for a photo with our obviously foreign travel group. Our master negotiator professor sprung into action and asked the staff if they might be able to help us out with the baggage fees if we posed for a photo. It seems EVERYthing in India is negotiable and watching these negotiations play out demonstrates their art form. It was quite fascinating to see how our out-of-place-ness could work to our advantage, but it was also uncomfortable because there was no amount of effort that could make us blend in. Nevertheless, we smiled with the staff, and somehow didn't owe a dime for our overweight luggage fees!

The Tiraputi Airport from the tarmac - isn't the architecture cool?

Interior of the airport

The "very nice" restaurant :)

Airport Art

The bus ride from the airport to our plane - approximately 75 feet away

More of the bus ride

Our plane

Tiffany's driver assured us the airport had a nice restaurant and we were all getting rather hungry as it approached late afternoon. We ascended the escalator to the virtually empty second floor of the airport only to find the "restaurant" was merely a small counter labeled The Snack Bar. We breathed a deep breath and it turned out the food was serendipitously delicious! Biryani, toasted sandwiches, paratha - and Sprite. I sat in the airport marveling at how our group who'd been traveling together for nearly a week at this point was able to embrace the unpredictable and go with the flow. It was lovely.

We loaded our flight for Bangalore, grateful for the speed and comfort of flying versus driving. Landing an hour later in Bangalore took us to yet another bus, this one named Flora. We journeyed from the airport to The United Theological College (https://utc.edu.in/), located right downtown by the train station. We had the good fortune to cross paths with one of our professors' friends with whom we would Zoom in a few days time. The Principal (think President) of the seminary is a former classmate of our Dr. Nadella and we were fortunate to meet him as he traveled that evening to an out of town conference. As had become our overarching experience, we were welcomed mightily and the Principal and his wife invited us to their home for tea after dinner.

The Principal is a showman and regaled us with entertaining stories and some that put us on edge a bit. He painted a rather intimidating picture of what life as a Christian could mean now that the BJP is flexing its muscles of control in the government. We learned we were the first group of our type, meaning from a seminary in the US, to visit UTC since the onset of Covid and there had been a group of German seminarians who had gotten deported just a month prior to our arrival and banned for life from India after being declared proselytizers. He coached us on how to respond should we be questioned by BJP officials and his story stuck with me and planted a seed of awareness that inspired me to be more cautious. It made me move about the city differently - more aware - but being inside the gates of UTC felt like true sanctuary.

UTC

Artwork in the ERC where we stayed on campus

Local News

ERC Lobby meeting friends of our professors

The Indian flag at the Bangalore airport

PLOT TWIST - New Job = Delayed Posting

I'm behind in processing and posting about India because I've just made a major life transition from Preschool Director to Director of Congregational Life, from First United Methodist to First Presbyterian, from working with families to working with the whole of my church family. It's been a deliciously FULL almost month - riddled with grief, excitement, overwhelm, joy and fulfillment. That's the funny thing about call - it's often pretty messy, but the mess eventually gives way to some sort of order as long as you swim in the mess until the waves calm down. Order is beginning to show herself and even though Holy Week in a church is anything but typical, I feel a routine emerging around me. So now I have bandwidth to reflect and process a bit more.

It was January 11, the day Henry turned 18, and I was halfway around the world from the one who made me a mama. It was really hard to not be with him on his birthday, so I journaled quite a lot about him and the gift he is to me. Those are words I've saved just for him and don't feel ready or quite willing to put them out into the world. Nonetheless, I'm so proud to be his mom.

Our journey conitnued on to our next hotel - the Fortune Select Tirupati - we dropped off our luggage before heading to the Tiramala Temple (Tirumala Tirupati Devasthanams (Official Website)). Tiramala claims to be the most visited religious site in the world. Based on the crowd we encountered upon arrival, the claim seemed true! To even get up to the temple, we had to get out of our van, walk through security stations, and leave all of our plastic bottles on the van - they're banned from the mountain. There's about a thirty-minute ride from security, up the mountain overlooking Tirupati, before arriving near the temple grounds. Devout able-bodied pilgrims, however, walk up the mountain to the temple. Some travel from miles away and pre-plan their visits months/years in advance to make offerings to Vishnu. Hostels and rest houses dotted the landscape alongside restaurants and an entire village that supports the bustling activity of countless pilgrims making their way with offerings. The ride up was exciting - every now and then we glimpsed the walking path, adorned with red and deep yellow powder placed there by pilgrims as they journeyed. We saw monkeys! They were just hanging out on the side of the road and one was even eating a banana. We saw signs warning us of the tigers who make the mountain their home and were reminded as we made our way skyward that we were on sacred ground. 

Cows and Water Buffalo

The pool at our hotel - GORGEOUS!

The sign of Vishnu on the bridge supports

The mountaintop was a flurry with people and activity! Our driver dropped us off and we ventured toward the elephant house - truly the house where the temple elephants live. Padmahvati (named for Vishnu's consort/lover) obliged our request for an elephant blessing by willingly taking our 10 rupees with her trunk and then placing her trunk on each of our heads. It was surreal and beautiful to see this majestic beast, wearing Vishnu's symbol on her forehead, offer each of us earthlings a blessing. She obviously lived the high life - sharing shaded space with her roommate, their two caregivers, and ample food. We also saw temple water buffalo and cows up close before venturing further up the mountain en route to lunch. 

What views!!!

Have you ever seen such a fancy security check point?

Items prohibited on temple grounds

View of the temple from below

This is a real deal monkey, snacking on a real deal banana!

More monkeys - note - be prepared to roll up your windows as they can be aggressive. Regardless, it's pretty amazing to see them in their natural habitat.

The elephant house - this is Padmahvati - I have a better picture of her, but I can't put my fingers on it just now.

Other temple animals

Sign noting the animals' living quarters

Atop the mountain our lunch consisted of a traditional talle - an individualized buffet of various Indian curries and such. Once we finished our paratha and papadum (breads), servers gave us generous servings of rice to enjoy with the cacophony of sauces on our plates. Some of the foods made Nashville Hot Chicken look like baby food - so very hot - thankfully yoghurt and raita helped calm the sensation. The flavours were divine and we left well sated, ready to explore the temple grounds.

Our lunch location

Marigold garlands were everywhere!

The shrine greeting us in the restaurant

Our traditional talle before the rice arrived

To physically enter the holy space, you had to have a darshun (think ticket) which granted to access. Those who held darshuns often waited 24-48 hours to get into the temple - it was astonishing, really. We didn't have darshuns, but were free to enjoy the temple grounds. The temple was built as a shrine to Vishnu and pilgrims journey to this place to receive blessings and offer gifts. One of the gifts people give is their hair - in response to asking Vishnu for a special blessing and receiving it. They come to the temple, shave their head, and leave their hair as a thank offering. We saw many bare heads as we walked around. The temple grounds are just massive and are said to host 50-75,000 people daily. That, coupled with the rule of no shoes on temple grounds, made for frighteningly dirty feet. It was extraordinarily crowded and we spent much of our time trying simply to stay together. Children approached us and painted the sign of Vishnu on a couple of our foreheads before we could even refuse - and they followed us the rest of our time on the grounds begging for money. The crowds, the sounds, the smells, the begging all made for a startling, disturbing, awe-inspiring, overwhelming experience.

The main temple with floral art pieces adorning it for festival season

The museum - we didn't get to go inside, but isn't it lovely?

Smaller shrine to Hanuman

No shoes!

The road where the gods were paraded up and down twice a day

A temporary festal shrine

The colourful creations were made of flowers - just amazing!

More of the temple's exterior

More exterior

Temporary festal temple

The crowds! And this photo didn't accurately capture the density of people.

Along the way toward the smaller shrine to Hanuman, we were stopped multiple times by people who wanted to take our photos. We stuck out pretty dramatically, suffice it to say. It got to the point, honestly, where we had to just keep moving so we didn't feel mobbed. I decided there I wouldn't do well being famous! At Hanuman's shrine, pilgrims paid to purchase little coconuts and went up to the shrine and broke them as offerings to the monkey god. Our out of place-ness led to additional photographs and we just had to stay on the move, lest we attract too much attention. We made our way to the onsite lake, led by our guide via a shortcut that took us past HUGE ghee strorage vats! As we stood at the lake, we saw pilgrims coming to bathe after offering their hair or just to cool off a bit. Despite our being here during India's winter, temperatures were still humid and in the 80s.

Our short cut

Personal shrine created on our short cut route

Structure in the middle of the lake

Where pilgrims take a dip after their journey

Detail on the roof of the structure in the middle of the lake

Tree adorned with prayer flags and floral garlands

Children continued to follow us right up to the minute we crossed out of the gates of the temple grounds. I couldn't help but think about their faces as we traveled down the mountain. On the road down, we drank in majestic views of Tiraputi. We returned to our hotel for dinner and delighted in the comfort of seeing pasta alfredo on the menu. It's amazing what a small tase of home can be.

My face got painted before I even knew what happened!

Are the colours delightful?

A lady wanted us to buy this thing that looked like a giant stick of chalk EXCEPT, when you rolled it on the ground it made this gorgeous rice flour creation! I kinda wish I'd bought one.

The Brahma statue in town

One of the many oil lamps we encountered - this one in our hotel.

Sleep came easy and we had the luxury of knowing we had the opportunity to enjoy sleeping in a bit the next morning before continuing our adventures.