So after a month in Rishikesh (for Kimberly) and week in Rishikesh (for Dennis), it was time to move on to the next destination. We were not entirely ready to leave Rishikesh behind, especially the part of town called Tapovan, where we’d been staying. It’s a pulsing hub of bohemian vibe and spiritual-minded activities, full of yoga schools (such as the one from which Kimberly had just graduated), ashrams, tour offices booking expeditions to the region’s natural riches, and travelers from all over the world seeking to explore and expand the depths of their being. All existing alongside traditional Indian culture and local lifestyles.

One group of people who find comfort and inspiration in Tapovan, though you never encounter them, is a colony of lepers who live secluded in a compound behind a high wall, near the banks of the Ganga. Perhaps in the past, not so long ago, those afflicted came here hoping that the waters of the sacred river would heal them. Today, medical science can expunge this malady, though it still can leave victims disfigured and stigmatized by society. So they choose to continue living here in the leper colony, on a hill overlooking the serene emerald river and the lively community on its banks — enhanced by the ritual sound of music and celebration, and a coruscation of fireworks on certain occasions. If you’re going to live in isolation, doing it in the middle of Rishikesh is not the worst option.

As mentioned, Tapovan is surrounded by scenic beauty, including a few waterfalls just uphill from us. Not towering, thundering or pretentious, but waterfalls with character, and pools and cataracts. And tourists. Having already scouted out and selfied a couple of them, we decide on the last day in town to strike out for the fourth and final one (as far as we are aware).

So onward and upward we go, showing the pack mules we pass that we have what it takes to master this terrain too. Reaching the last pool requires going down a steep path into a bit of a valley, but it’s worth the effort. It’s the most scenic of them all.

There’s a pool that looks like a naturally occurring spa, except it isn’t heated, just made for bathing in. And apparently that’s occurred to a few other people as well. In the pool lower down the hill, we’d already observed a few guys taking a dip in their underwear. At this particular pool, three guys have taken the liberty of abandoning their underwear when they departed. So we use a tree branch to reposition the unmentionables out of sight so they will not make a brief appearance in our photos.

The piece de resistance on this particular hike is a diminutive waterfall, barely a trickle, that is positioned so that you can pose for a photo behind it or beside it or under it, or whatever. It’s a popular spot, and we have to wait for a few other folks to go through the gamut of preposition positions, and every possible combination of participants, and finally when their cameras are exhausted, it’s our turn to jump in before anyone else does and strike our own epic statuesque poses.

Having conquered the area’s waterfalls — at least the ones that are within walking distance –we’re pretty much done with Rishikesh on this visit, though we’ll certainly plan to return in the future. The one thing that remains is to have a little informal farewell dinner with four of Kimberly’s fellow students from the yoga school.

These include a San Franciscan who lives on the same street where we once lived, just a couple of blocks away. One is from Germany and one from the Netherlands. And then there is the Brit, who is very outspoken and uninhibited, with a riotous sense of humor. Two of these ladies are, unlike virtually all the other students (and unlike virtually everyone else in Rishikesh) a carnivore; and their patience has worn thing with a month of subsistence on plant-based fare, and by golly they’re eager to sink their teeth into some grub that has the potential to bite back.

So we zero in on such an establishment, but it takes a bit of time and effort to get there — meat-serving restaurants are not exactly on the beaten track in Rishikesh, and they’re not exactly anywhere to be found at all in Tapovan. Meeting up near the yoga school and our homestay, we all trudge down the hill, down the busy main road a bit, then up a hill, and around a winding alley until, voila, there it is.

The two dishes we order are good, but skimpy enough for a fasting leprechaun. One has a little tofu and a great deal of sauce, and the other has two little…nodules… of some kind or other. And a great deal of sauce. But at least our meals come with plenty of roti on the side. One of our critter-gobbling companions orders chicken, with a dessert of a fried Snickers bar. Yep, that’s really a thing. And it’s shared by one of the other diners because she is diabetic and had taken 5 units of insulin, which is a bit excessive. Snickers to the rescue. So everyone is rather satisfied with the meal, and it’s a fitting little bon voyage party for 5 yoga buddies now going their separate ways, but — who knows — who may cross paths again in the future.

Back at home, we do as much packing as we can to be ready to pull out on the morrow. One of our housemates is a fellow American, from Cleveland by way of Atlanta. He’s a writer, working on a novel at present, and he was a journalist in Mumbai for several years, and was married to an Indian woman. He says they’d been preparing to buy a house, but instead a divorce happened. So now he’s taking advantage of the time to travel more.

In a way, his story is not unlike our own, and the stories of the other people we have encountered in our nomadic life — including those at the yoga school, one of whom is a refugee from the violence in Ukraine. Crap happens in the real world that alters the course of your life — in our case it was the pandemic, which shut down the theatre business we had operated for 32 years. And when that occurs, you just might have an opportunity to choose a totally new road and see where it leads you.

Our road led us to volunteer teaching, and traveling around the world to do it, and yoga certification for Kimberly. And here we are. Tomorrow that road will lead us into the foothills of the Himalayas.