Sensory Overload, Meet Yoga.

If I close my eyes tight enough, I can still:

• taste the masala chai dancing on my tastebuds
• smell the urban pollutants assaulting my lungs
• hear the Hindu bells and chants mesmerizing my conscience
• see the fingerless beggar asking for just a few rupees to make it through another night.

My husband and I just spent six weeks in India and Nepal. If you get a chance to go to either place, just pack your bags and don’t look back. (And don’t forget to throw in some extra TP and hand sanitizer. You’ll be soooo glad you did.)

If you’ve ever traveled to a developing nation—and especially to an urban center within it—you know exactly what I mean when I say the words sensory overload. The sights, smells, and sheer number of people elbowing their way through the overcrowded, dusty streets is sometimes enough to make you want to: A) scream, B) cry, C) barf, D) do Yoga, or E) all of the above. In a town called Varanasi, I accomplished answer E, all in a single day. Not a proud day, but I can say with certainty that I’ve never needed Yoga more.

After long and windy journey through the town’s narrow and poorly marked streets, we finally arrived at our destination. I was bullish about finding this particular studio because it was the only one our Lonely Planet guide had recommended, after a warning to the effect of: “Be careful. Some of our contributors have reported that many of Varanasi’s ‘Yoga Centres’ are run out of the homes of untrained men with ‘wandering hands.’” Since getting groped was not on my travel itinerary, I was so thankful to find a trusted Yoga oasis where we could stretch, decompress, meditate, and let Yoga have its way with us.

True peace comes from within. I can never have too many reminders of that.