After a long trek through the early morning dawn, I found the green stucco exterior of the Yoga/Meditation School. Late, after so many missteps, I was reassured by the smiling welcome of the receptionist. She led me to the stone tiled studio, gave me a soft blue bag for my eyeglasses and cell phone. and I found myself seated on a blue pad listening the the sonorous rhythm of Portuguese.
The seventy-one year old Yogi led the class of middle aged men and women through a slow series of movements. The stress and aches of the week's meetings and presentations were released in the trilling of the birds outside and the familiar movements of the practice.
Afterward I drank herbal tea and water from the clay filter.
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