Varadero / Toronto
The Last Papaya
Light raindrops moistening our backs were the final goodbye gestures from Cuba's north-shore sky. From the resort, ‘Memories’, Prana, Ananda and I boarded the bus for the Varadero Airport. We are leaving behind us a wonderful group of people who feel sometimes very isolated from the rest of the family we call bhakti-yogis. Unfortunately, one of our young men, Leonardo, is stricken with dengue fever, a mosquito-induced, sometimes fatal disease, and he's alone in intensive care. May he overcome that hurdle. Please help, O Divine Master.
On the bus, we re-connected with travellers making use of the same deal as ourselves. You have one week to go all out with your senses. There's the beach, sun, sand, drinks, live music, all-you-can-eat food, internet—the works. Those of us on the yoga mission stayed clear. Our friends, who a week ago arrived with great anticipation, now, on the bus back, some part of them seemed drained, a trifle disappointed, not fulfilled, ready to move on.
I am not saying that the three of us are better, but I will say we were on a different program and we relished every minute of it. The dance and chant in the tunnel, the wedding in the woods, the organic veggies cooked with love, the people eager to learn, and all of that in densely-populated Havana.
Perhaps my sweetest dessert, on the menu of all we did, was to speak of Prabhupada, our guru, and all he did for me and the world. He did have a remarkable impact.
Now, on a flight back to Canada, Ananda forks in his last chunk of Cuban papaya.
May the Source be with you!
4 km
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