The Adventures of Bindi Girl: (2012) by Erin Reese Read Free Book Online

slowly, slowly over the final three days, to a hard-core clean-up crew of twenty. The final morning, our small tribe held hands in a circle over the remnants of the main fire, offering a closing prayer of thanks and a final “Om.” We then loaded ourselves into a (prearranged) local boat to be carried across the sea to the nearest beach with amenities; in other words, someone else to cook, and a proper place to shower.
    Twenty of us climbed aboard the flimsy fisherman’s craft. Like the miracle on the Mangala Express, here was another instance of waning faith. A rickety boat straight out of Robinson Crusoe, with a tiny putt-putt motor attached. Would it hold?
    We were a sight to see, piling onto this poetic little wooden ship—dreadlocks, grimy clothes, djembe drums, beat-up travel guitars and what-have-yous, and the full-on colorful sight of twenty freaks au naturel , some who hadn’t left the beach in over thirty days. Man, oh, man, that boat was rocking. There was a huge chance we’d capsize. The Indian man kept yelling at us to stay down in the base of the boat, his little boy running from stern to prow, back and forth, end to end to balance out the weight! We were tipping! And still, the temptation to peek out from the hull was too great, as dolphins swam by, leaping through the air, welcoming us safely to our new home on the next shore.

Chai Break
    29 th of January, Konkan Coast
    I’ve been “on the road” Jack Kerouac-style for the past two weeks.
    And now, I’ve landed somewhere over the rainbow, on a very quiet south Indian beach on the Konkan Coast. I’m typing this from an open-air computer “hut” with the sound of the Indian Ocean’s waves crashing in the background. The weather is about 30-degrees Celsius, a comfortable mid- to high-80s for the Fahrenheit folks. Coconut trees abound; the water is bathtub warm, and the breeze continually refreshes. My most recent days have been spent lazing and lolling, alternating between my mud hut (less than one dollar a night), my hammock underneath the coco trees, and my straw mat laying a few steps away at the foot of the lapping waves. Life is good!
    I am currently on a cleansing fast of sorts—consuming nothing more than a few bananas and lemon water. This fast idea arose spontaneously over the last four days as I developed another small bout of “Delhi Belly”—diarrhea, fever, aches, cramps, the works. It was only horrific for two days, which seems to be a much swifter recovery than some folks’ accounts. I attribute this to the Chinese herbs I bought in San Francisco’s Chinatown, and homeopathic remedies to bring down fever.
    Since the cleansing process of the body began organically, I’ve decided to continue and give my body a needed breather from the rigors of travel fare, most especially chai. I’ve consumed a small tea plantation since landing in Delhi. I’m on serious overload, having developed an addiction to the sickly sweet, devilishly delicious concoction of masala spices, black tea, milk and sugar, milk, sugar, milk, milk, sugar, sugar. Oh, and did I add: milk and sugar?
    Yep, time for a chai break.

Guru Disney
    22 nd of February, Konkan Coast
    I’ve just returned to paradise after a whirlwind side trip—back in my discovered little beach oasis on the Arabian Sea along the southwest coast of India. I can’t get enough of sleeping in my “plush” hammock-nest, camping out of my luxurious mud hut quarters, waking up to magnificent sunrises under the coconut trees, bowing before mind-blowing sunsets, devouring entire juicy papayas in one go, skipping barefoot, and dancing in the waves.
    It’s simply fantastic to be back in this magical locale after a one-week excursion that may have taught me, yet again, one of the most valuable lessons for me in India: the return to self. Before I begin the tale, allow me to lay out a few “disclaimers.” First, I haven’t fully digested the experience and, I wouldn’t be surprised AT ALL if