Most of my time in Benaras (another name for Varanasi) was spent in the company of Sabine, a German transplant to Palma de Mallorca in Spain who has been long-visiting India over the last few years for a total of ten months in the Subcontinent. Like most Germans she had trouble with the letter "V" in English, always pronouncing it as a "W."

I kind of charged into her room to ask her for the scoop on Varanasi (I had just arrived), She invited me to sit on the floor and after that we were nonstop chat 24/7. She made good company and exposed me to the somewhat rational side of Hindu mysticism as her spiritual guide had been a Hindu practicing meditation in the hills above "spiritual tourist" den Rishikesh.

In the mornings at 6 AM through 9 AM I would join her about every other day (she did it everyday and started at 4:30 AM)- she was happy to show me her yoga routine she had learned while attending sessions seven days a week in Rishikesh for seven weeks (that's 100 hours of class). I was impressed by her because she was the first woman I had met in ages who had a good sense of humor and cracked jokes that had me laughing.

Temperatures soared above 50 degrees celcius (that's more than 130 degrees F), Sabine got a light case of sunstroke because she dared walk out on the Ghats once during the middle of the day, for two weeks most of our middays passed huddling inside in the rooms with the fans blowing air at us through a thin wet cloth hung in front, drinking 'panna' (a special drink the locals prepare with green mangoes, cumin, pepper, salt, and some other spices all boiled together - you drink several glasses, rub the peels and pit slime on your skin, wash it off and feel cooler).

We spent much of our time having the same discussion about wheter one needs to find a spiritual master or not. I argued that it seems to be key in every discipline (I who had no teacher) and she argued that it was not necessary (she who had a teacher). I lucked out big time because among her many talents she was well trained in Shitasu massage which I willingly let her practice on me as often as she liked.

She taught me about many things: yoga, introduced me to Rumi, told stories that showed how much women love, how emotional women are. She also revealed the secret key to every woman's heart - "inspired awestruck wonder beauty talk" knowledge which, she stressed, is not to be misused.

There was one night in particular when I felt all our time together rising up to something, a moment, a turning point. It was late, near midnight, and like the rest of the world we were out on the Ghats in the orange glow of electric illuminaton, enjoying the cool of the night, sitting alone on one of the fat stunted column bases studding the area south of our guesthouse, we shooed stray dogs with our feet (she petted a few - eeek!) and talked for hours, opening our hearts. It was clear then that ours was not going to be a physical connection, hopefully a freindship that would carry on and continue to teach us both, even when the hot weather and steamy funk of Varanasi had slid away.

When I want to remember Sabine all I have to say to myself is "Wedgies (her pronunciation of 'veggies') to summon her to my side.