March 25, 2005The night before we left Montanha Encantada one of the many hummingbirds that sip nectar from the flower beds that surround the main house happened to get itself trapped inside the building, and when breakfast time came it was still there, unable to fly from exhaustion and fear. Someone put the bird onto one of Tara's four-year-old fingers, transforming her thereby into Hummingbird Girl. Hummingbird Girl took her guest out to the bushes, and we watched (and photographed) raptly as she lifted it to each flower in turn, that by sucking nectar it might revive itself. After some indeterminate period (half an hour?) the bird suddenly recovered and flew - and the elation on Hummingbird Girl's face was a joy to behold.

Curiously, hummingbirds have already made their presence known in Tara's life. Chandra tells me that, even before she knew she was pregnant with Tara, one of her friends told her of a dream she (the friend) had had, in which a hummingbird had come to her ear and had told her that Chandra was pregnant, and described some of the traits that Tara would possess. Life is so much stranger than we can even imagine...

After departing from M.E. we hit the beach for three days & nights. On the evening of March 14 three of our number found ourselves caught on the sands far from home when a thunderstorm hit. Fortunately we were just below a summer rental home, now empty as the Southern Hemisphere's autumn approaches; fortunately the gate in that that house's was unlocked; and fortunately there was an overhang underneath which we could sit, watching the lightning and singing to the storm. After the rain dwindled we wandered back out onto the beach, where Jupiter peeked through the clouds to greet us as we danced on the sand.

A magical night indeed, made more enchanted ("encantada") by the presence of a small beach resident. During the rain we had lit two sticks of incense, which burned at us like two orange eyes in the fury of the tempest. Once on the beach we noticed two small green lights, which on inspection proved to be the eyes of a small crab. We stood around it curious, careful to keep our distance from it lest it panic (I could just hear it thinking, "The giants have come!), when all of a sudden it made a beeline for my right big toe, and climbed up on it, clinging for dear life (without pinching me, for which I thank it). It remained there for a good 15 minutes, and tried to follow me as we departed; we swiftly outdistanced it on our (from a crustacean perspective) impossibly long legs, its green peepers watching (somewhat sadly, I thought) as we receded into the night. What it was thinking while on my toe was not easy for me to imagine, but I was grateful to it for the implicit trust it showed in my giant foot (as also the rest of me). We wish it well.

March 16 I proceeded to Colombia, my first visit to that land. I almost didn't make it onto the plane in Florianopolis, as I had no certificate proving that I had been vaccinated against yellow fever - that vaccination is now no longer required in the USA for travel to Colombia, but Brazil still requires it, and Varig, the Brazilian carrier that took me from Floripa to Sao Paolo, insisted upon it. But since Sao Paolo was a domestic destination they agreed to carry me that far, and Avianca, the Colombian carrier that was flying me from Sao Paolo to Bogotá, didn't care about the certificate. I reached Bogotá without further incident.

I was met there by Drs. Claudia Welch & Jim Ventresca, who ushered me to an excellent dinner in the best restaurant in Bogotá, the Pajares Salinas, owned by Don Fernando Pajares, a most refined friend of Claudia's (his charming wife Doña Luz calls him a caballero, a "knight," a moniker that fits him well). The next morning Claudia & Jim & I were chauffeured to Villa de Leyva, a lovely little 430-year-old town about three road hours from Bogotá that contains what is said to be the largest town square in all of South America. Probably the highlight of our visit was an afternoon spent riding horses through the gorgeous countryside. Though I have ridden horses before I had never galloped one, and our horses being well cared for were ready to break into a gallop whenever given their heads. "Exhilarating" is too weak a word to describe the fun we had! The sore muscles came the next day, but we recuperated quickly - Jim even jumped up the next morning at 6 am to ride with our host Shamaz before breakfast!

Claudia & I stayed behind that morning with King, Shamaz's dog, who was paying for keeping up with the horses the day before (Claudia provided him some relief with acupuncture). Five years previously Shamaz had been driving along a city street when a truck in front of him hit King & knocked him into the air. While in the air their eyes met, and Shamaz stopped his car, pulled King inside, and sped him off to the vet, who had to rebuild most of King's back. King & Shamaz have been together ever since.

After a few more enjoyable (if less event-packed) days we reluctantly bid Columbia "hasta la vista," a reluctance made considerable for me by my discovery, on the day before our departure, that the extraordinarily delicious fruit of the night-blooming cereus is available in its markets. I reached Florida on March 22, well in time to celebrate with the Raby family this fortnight's end, on the full moon known in India as Holi (or Hutashani). Holi hai!

March 9, 2005 Scott, Chandra & Tara met me at the Sao Paolo airport, and we rendezvoused with Sarada & Carmen in Florianopolis. After checking into our hotel, visiting the beach (just across the street from the hotel driveway), and enjoying an hour of therapeutic chanting, we descended on Basilico, said to be one of the best pizzerias in Floripa (the natives' abbreviation for their town), for a couple of their sun-dried tomato and arugula specials, which we washed down with judicious sips of caipirinha, the mixed drink that is made with lime juice, sugar, and either vodka or the local firewater (whose name I currently forget).

The next morning we drove south to Garopaba, and Montanha Encantada, where a multilingual group awaited us. Though I have done a number of seminars in foreign lands where I had to be translated, the translations had previously been from English into but one other tongue. In this instance we had a Spanish-speaking cluster from Argentina, a group of American Anglophones, and a number of Brazilians, who speak Portuguese. Though Carmen worked tirelessly to handle the Spanish renditions, and Sonia, a professional translator from Sao Paolo, managed the Portuguese, many participants resented the time needed for paraphrasing (instead of doing what was suggested to them and taking those extra moments to review what they had just heard). Scott & Chandra taught their various yogas to acclaim, and their daughter Tara was the darling of the retreat, defusing tensions wherever she went. Overall, it was hard labor; not something I will willingly do again. Live & learn!

Montanha Encantada's beauty, and the splendor of the beaches, offered welcome relief, and the surrounding rain forest offered its own commentary in its own way, as on the afternoon that a legion of large black ants suddenly appeared on the desk that held the internet computer; and proceed to swarm desk, bench, and occupant (myself). Perhaps they were evading some approaching rain shower; regular showers make Montanha Encantada lush, springs and streams stippling its hillsides. There even remains, just a few minutes walk up a narrow dirt road, an ancient water-powered sawmill, run by an ancient Italian immigrant named Isidor (sp). The garrulous, amiable Isidor continues to saw logs, even though he is now past 80 - clearly, the enchanted mountain is doing him some good!

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