Free The Adventures of Bindi Girl: (2012) by Erin Reese Page B

Poseidon’s Cove, I sit on my terrace and watch the most beautiful sunsets—it feels like a differe nt island from the “sunrise” party side.
    Turns out, I am paying unexpected homage to my yoga teacher, Anil, here on this little island. The first evening I arrived, I met a very tall, corkscrew curly-haired Swiss woman by the name of Chantal, and we shared a meal. After we ate, though it was quite early, I excused myself and explaine d that I had to get up early the next morning before the scorching heat in order to get back on track with yoga. Chantal immediately asked if I would teach her, as she’d never done yoga before and was quite eager to learn. “Of course!” I replied.
    Chantal was definitely motivated, and adjusted her leisurely holiday schedule to meet me at 7:30 a.m. under the palm trees (out of the way of falling coconuts—apparently one of the major causes of tourist deaths in Thailand—really!).
    Another gal, Sylvia from Austria, had also joined our evening dinner conversation, and she wanted to participate as well. That morning, I accidentally blurted out a giggle as she stumbled out of her bungalow, walking across the lawn toward us with the first morning’s cigarette dangling from her mouth. Well, perhaps this loud-mouthed American girl had a little bit too much of a laugh at her smoky approach to Sun Salutations: we heard that Austrian Sylvia left the island the next morning, never to be seen doing yoga with us again. Oops.
    Chantal’s apprenticeship was much more successful. Our first yoga lesson turned into a one-week intensive. Together, we got ourselves up with the sun and practiced those moves that Anil had drilled into my mind during the cold Rishikesh winter. I felt such joy and gratitude sharing in Chantal’s progress. Chantal had to head back to Switzerland after seven days, yet the smiles stretched across her face were everlasting. After a year of traveling round the world, she said it was the best send-off present she could have ever hoped for.
    As they say: “We teach what we need to learn.” I am by no means a qualified yoga teacher, let alone a full-on yogini ; yet, it feels so “right” to be given this gift, and the more I share what Anil taught me, the more it’s imprinted in my own being. With each day, the postures become more natural, more of an inseparable part of my daily routine.
    Now THAT is the kind of stuff I wanted to bring home from India in my back pack!

Homeward Bound
    24 th of April, Koh Phangan
    I’m heading home a week early! I can feel it—I’ve come to the end of my journey. For about the last three weeks I’ve been feeling the itch. It’s not that I’m tired or sick, I don’t have some weird disease, and there’s no anti-American sentiment flying my way.
    No, it’s none of that. I’m simply done —for now. There’s only so much sensory input one can absorb in a single trip. Perhaps, with the right mindset, the ending is where the good stuff really begins to kick in! The West is, after all, where you get the lovely opportunity to bring it all “home” (wherever that may be—home being in the heart) and put it into practice.
    For me, it’s all about integration, and sharing, and using what I’ve learned and opened up to in the East. That is, at least until I settle in for about five days, dust off my backpack, and find myself looking online for the best ticket deal to the next destination. Ah, will I ever really settle? Regardless, I am excited and grateful to be heading back to California in less than one week’s time.
    It has been a long haul, and the road has definitely risen up to meet me.

The U.S.A. Today
    20 th of May, San Francisco
    Closure and completion—the culmination of an epic journey is the hardest chapter to write. I’ve been grieving the end of my travels through India for the past three weeks. It’s time to make the transition, to be here now, back in the West. Talking with a compassionate friend over lunch the other