Mooooooo!” Wednesday morning, I awoke on my mosquito-netted pallet to the sounds of a cattle stampede. “Feb?” I called, struggling to pull myself out of bed after what felt like a very short night of sleep. I guessed I was still out of whack from the time zone changes. “I thought you were working on a rice farm,” I said. “Not a dairy farm.” When I pushed back the beaded curtain separating my bedroom from the main living space of the bungalow, I saw that Feb and Kelly were seated on the floor. Their eyes were closed and their legs were folded in this crazy yogic position. Just as I opened my mouth to ask where the cow pen was, both Feb and Kelly opened their mouths and let out a sonorous moooooo. Oh. That’s where the cow pen was. “Very nice. Keep breathing, the answer is within you,” a very soft male voice chanted. I hadn’t even noticed anyone else in the room, but once my eyes fell on the small, round man in the corner, it seemed like an easy mistake. He was wearing a knee-length linen shirt and loose slacks, both the same color as the walls.
