Long Overdue

Finally, the main attraction. The longest, most challenging, and most difficult to explain part of the trip which, luckily, I began chronicling on paper as soon as I arrived (there is no cell phone reception or, of course, WiFi at the yoga retreat). For your reading (or, procrastinating at work) pleasure, here is a real-time excerpt from the moleskin, penned almost two weeks ago:

May 14th
I think I hear the clanging of bell-clad goats as they move up the mountainside above me. What particular peak they might be headed toward I can only guess, as the hammock I am currently lying in is ringed around with peaks covered in scrubby low-lying plants and the occasional group of rugged pine trees. I arrived in the fishing village of l´Ampolla last night, and after a short but slightly anxious wait at the train station (a tiny two-platforms plus bar, filled to the brim with gruff looking fishermen drinking and smoking as they watch awkward backpackers arrive and wait around nervously), I was collected by Sarah, blonde and tall, in a hardy and dust-covered 4 x 4 that smelled gently of some of my favorite plants.

As we drove up the mountain to the retreat, she informed me that the day had been spent at a neighbor´s cherry orchard, and that she, George (the other volunteer) and four guests had collectively picked 19 kilos of cherries. Not wanting them to go bad, they spent the evening making cherry tart, cherry cake, cherry jam, and cherry salad (recipes to follow), all of which awaited my no doubt hungry arrival. Meeting Luna, Andrea, Magdalena, and Elaine over all the aformentioned dishes was an idyllic beginning, but slightly self-conscious, exhausted, and disoriented, I experienced a moment of genuine panic when Sarah guided me over to my sleeping arrangements. Expecting a spacious bell tent all to myself (like I saw on the website), I discovered that those were, in fact, for the highest paying guests, and that George and I each had our own little Quechua camping tent up behind the house.

Now, for all my supposedly outdoor-sy inclinations, I must confess that I have never actually lived in a tent. Alarm bells went off in my head as I started to unpack and awkwardly try to arrange my stuff inside it, and thoughts of 'You agreed to stay here for a MONTH!!!' buzzing around my head like mosquitoes. But, after a few minutes of organizing, I found that it was really a manageable space, and down the hill towards the swimming pool there was a sturdy and very clean building with two sinks, toilets, and, most importantly, hot showers. (There were also two little ornate mirrors, which I imagine are only used by the guests to keep tabs on just how wild and unkempt we are all looking as the days go by.) I also remembered that I HAD remembered to pack a small flashlight and warm socks, and found that, after a piece of cherry cake, and a little star-gazing, I was able to curl up in my little green tent on the side of a mountain and sleep, like a stone, for nine hours.

More to follow!