March 17, 2003 While in San Francisco to deliver a lecture at the California Institute of Integral Studies I stopped at Golden Gate Park and dropped in on "Skulls," the recent exhibit of mixed crania at the California Academy of Sciences. Over 1500 skulls of numerous species were assembled, including hundreds of specimens from the California sea lion, suspended along one wall. A quiet, dark corner housed carrion beetles feasting on recently obtained bony head remains, cleaning them thereby for later display.

After getting our fill of the skeletal my companions & I crawled through traffic over to the Theatre District, to replenish our own thankfully still-living flesh at that paragon of vegetarian restaurants, Millennium. Now housed in the Savoy Hotel, Millennium gets high marks for presentation, quality of food, excellence of wine, and helpfulness of waiter. I look forward to returning.

Another restaurant I intend to frequent is Pam's Place, where I ate the next evening after a fairly effortless drive from Sonoma to Santa Monica. Pam's Place, in Venice, is one of those wonderful Thai restaurants whose owner (the hospitable Pam, here) is also its chief chef. Go and visit Pam when next you visit Southern California coast; you'll be glad you did.

March 7 I flew off to Papeete, Tahiti, where I received as a reward for a bone-jarring road trip an opportunity to visit the valley of Moroto and the sacred lake Vaihiria. At Vaihiria we found a vehicle that had gone off the road, and in the ensuing effort to help the two ladies within we spent quite some time at the lake, enjoying its delicate beauty, alternating between appreciation and lamentation for the road improvements that both endanger the lake and make our own trips there easier. It being a small world (and a small island), one of the stranded women, a pediatrician, turned out to be the ex-wife of the doctor that I had lunch with a few days later.

My other chief excursion was to the Presqu'Isle, the less-developed region of the island of Tahiti, and a "fare" (pronounced like the musical syllables "fa-re") built for the cultural dance troupe O Tahiti E, whose directress was traveling with us. A fare, which is perhaps the most traditional of Tahitian structures, is an open roofed pavilion, which keeps off sun and rain without blocking the breeze. This particular fare sits at the head of an excellent little valley, with waterfall that seems more substantial than the canyon beneath it would justify. A night in this little hideaway was (except for the mosquitoes) paradisiacal.

After a Tahitian week, off to Australia just in time for Hutashani, or Holi, the raucous (in India) harvest festival that I celebrated this year in front of a fire in the quiet of the rainforest, attempting to please those two mighty elements, Fire and Water. May all the Elements be benevolent to us all!

March 2, 2003 After my presentations in Rimini, Italy I had three days free, two of which I spent Crevalcore's peaceful quiet. Crevalcore, I had learned early on, is the home of the famous anatomist Marcello Malpighi; recently I discovered that this year is his 375th birth anniversary. Malpighi, who founded the discipline of microscopic anatomy, and was the first to see the body's red blood cells and capillaries, strode from early expertise directly into a distinguished career, so distinguished that certain body structures (e.g. the Malpighian tubules) still bear his name.

For me Crevalcore is particularly notable for Elvira's table. This trip it was peaches from her own tree, preserved by her own hand, and tomatoes pickled in oil. A bottle of each ended up in my carry-on luggage, along with a liter of extra-extra-virgin Pugliese olio di olivo, the most renowned of Italy's olive oils (from a region in its boot heel), as tokens of esteem from Mother Italy to my own mother (who enjoyed them gratefully).

I made on my third free day a day-long pilgrimage to beloved Venezia. Venice being but a couple of hours by train from Bologna, I arrived near lunchtime, and wandered its alleys and bridges the whole cold afternoon, staring, nibbling, and softly singing. A clear sun beamed down on me from a chill blue sky as I rambled, often in reveries of Benaras, dedicated like Venice to the Water Element.

From Italy to a busy London slate, made palatable by the hospitality of the Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Centre, my metropolitan pied-à-terre for some years. Located just south of the Thames over the Putney Bridge, the Centre is a veritable haven of refuge from the burden of the outer world. Packed with images of smiling deities, a mere two minutes' walk from the river and the lengthy Thames Path that local walkers, runners, and cyclists call thoroughfare, the Centre's staff (who cater to my every whim) makes it truly a home away from home for me. What an excellent place!

A brief stop in Texas after London prepared me for the Bay Area, where I celebrated Mahashivaratri with great éclat. My two fellow chanters and I enjoyed ourselves immensely, the only casualty being the carpet, which suffered the indignities first of having vetivert-laden oil land atop it, and then of being scorched by the copper firepot. Apologies to the rug; obeisances to Shiva!

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