This was written by my husband, Gerald:

“It Depends Which Day You Ask”.  This was the answer we received from one of the Non Resident Indian doctors working at the Gandhi ashram, when we asked how they felt about their experience there.  And in many ways, that is how this journey went for me.  This was my eighth time in India, and coming so close on 2014’s fabulous visit, that was a tough standard to look up to.

We began in December in Goa, and sitting on the beach watching the sunset,drinking a cold Kingfisher beer, it felt like we had never left.  After following the incredible Theyyam ritual in Kerala, we arrived in Ahmedabad, where I had volunteered to teach art to children at Manav Sadhna, the foundation based on Gandhi’s vision “Love All,Serve All”.  The people I met there, dedicated, selfless completely devoted to improving the lives of those less fortunate, have made a strong (and hopefully lasting) impression on me.  Through the art, I was able to bring some light into these children’s lives, and give them a sense of achievement.  The last day there when I set up an exhibition of the work they had done, seeing their faces was quite wonderful.  But the city we were staying in (Ahmedabad) was truly one of the most awful places I have ever spent time in.  And bit by bit I lost my desire to go out and explore after the day’s teaching.

Leaving Ahmedabad for Udaipur, our favorite city in India, was like escaping from jail.  So many friends there and so many good memories.  And then finally, somewhere new, where we hadn’t been before, the source of the Ganges at Haridwar and Rishikesh in the foothills of the Himalayas.  Incense burning,bells ringing,chanting of mantras,wandering Sadhus,all the India I love.  For me, travel is still “discovery” of new places and peoples and there was less of it on this journey.  What makes India so glorious are the “wow” moments, and perhaps because so much of this journey was going back to places we had been, there were fewer of them than last year.

We returned to our beloved Goa for the final days, to warm up, eat the great food, enjoy the company of old friends and indulge in the warm waters of the Arabian Sea.  And each day I asked myself,if my wondrous journeys to India had run their course.  Somehow it felt like working on my collage, when a certain point comes when adding more papers no longer improves the overall piece.  I always tell my students that you need to know when to let go.  For the first time, I did not come home counting the days until my next visit.

And yet…as I am working on my book of drawings and watercolors,the passions and energy of this fabulous country and culture stir inside of me.  I can still taste all the wonderful spices,and see the smiles of all the many friends we have made there over these years.  So, who knows?  There is still the East to explore,the mountains,the tribal areas,the totally different cultures.  Are there still “wow” moments waiting for me?  Who knows?  Will I go again?  It depends which day you ask.

Namaste