(The photos start at the bottom to correspond with the text)















































This man is painting on a house. These are spices!



























I bought a bike. It is a great pink Indian model--rides like an old Schwinn. I named it Rosebud. I was a little leary riding it, with the streets, traffic, dogs, cows and my old body, but it's true about what they say about riding a bike and never forgetting. I took it out last Sunday, the day before the kids came to school to practice riding it to school. It's a little over 7km. Down the busy East Coast Road. People are very liberal with their horns here--it's not so much, "Get out of my way," as it's, "I'm here," kind of beep. It's remarkable how everyone shares the road. I turn off on a small side street lined with trees, over the "foot bridge." I heard drumming and singing and came upon a procession going to Temple.

Just before school there is a vendor selling Idols. I stopped to look now that I was on my own, and everyone in the family came running out to see me. I asked if I could take pictures, and more and more people came streaming out for me to take theirs. The one girl especially grabbed my heart. These children don't go to school, but live here on the side of the road.

Riding to school is an easy and pleasant ride. I stopped and bought lunch at a roadside stand--the man gave me a sweet dessert as well. Feeling encouraged, I rode all about--3 hours. Down through different neighborhoods and things seemed much closer to me than when riding in the van. I found several new markets to shop at, a clean beach which I stopped and swam at, and different little "villages." I stopped to watch a group of women play a game. They were spread out on a blanket, and had brass rods with dots carved in the sides. Like dice I think. They would roll them and then move markers on a hand made board. They invited me to sit with them and liked getting their pictures taken. Digitals are so great because they can see them right away, and they would laugh and look again, pointing at each other. The older woman in this photo invited me to come with her to her house and she and I had a cup of tea on her stoop. The children all love to get their pictures taken.


Along the main street is a small temple. The women were outside making small fires and cooking something over them in pans and clay pots. Just down the street is the local Mosque. I hear their call to prayers 4x a day. I don't see any women in Burkas.

Along the road women sit and bind jasmine flowers into garlands. They sell them for 5 R. (about 10 cents.) I commented to my friend Pappu that I thought it was so sad, but she told me that it is a meditation, that each flower is a prayer. The women buy them and wear them in their hair--the smell is enchanting.
I passed flower, fruit, vegetable, pot vendors along the road. Everyone is happy to smile back at me and wave. I love it. The people are so warm and friendly. Everytime I go out people stop me to chat. They are so helpful and non threatening.

My long bike ride led me to a new part of the beach not far from my home. The beach had a lot of people out strolling, kids playing ball. I went swimming in my clothes. The water is cool--about like Bone Lake in August.

I love my bike--it is just the right thing for me to get around on and at a pace that I can see everything and have contact with my surroundings.

I apologize for the reverse order of the photos! I upload them as I write, and they go to the top, but my writing goes down. When Sylvia comes, she can help me with my next lesson.


Tomorrow I will tell about school
Good night dear friends.