A few evenings ago, I took a long walk with a some girls to "tour" the countryside. They were quite excellent tour guides. They knew just enough English to warn me about the snakes in the rivers. I told them not to worry, that I wasn't about to set foot in any river (yes, Dad, I remember what you indefatigably warnings about the water here).

On the way back, walking through the tiny village (not the village to which I must bike...this village doesn't even have store), I saw half of my "students" and staff that work at Care and Share.

I ran into one of the women who works at the small boys' home, where I'm living. She invited me back to her home to meet her family....as I understood, there were about 5 adults and 3 kids living in two huts.

They made me sit down in the one chair they had. Sitting is a big deal here. Everywhere I go, somewhere stands up, or presents a chair to me, and forces me to sit. In most situations, it's quite awkward, because I'll be the only one sitting. It's a type of honor, I guess. Anyway, here I sit in a plastic chair in rural India, with about six people standing around me who don't speak a word of English. The baby started to cry when she saw me. I'm scary looking.

Soon, I was given the honor to view the little statues of Hindu gods that were housed in the cows' manger that was connected to the huts. I was channeling Jesus and Bethlehem as I stood admiring the Hindu gods in the manger.

A very interesting experience, indeed.

I am proud to say that I've survived my first intestinal bug, and hopefully my last?? Thank you, Herman Hesse and Pepto Bismol for helping me through this harrowing experience.