Me

expedition. First and foremost, what excited me the most was the chance to take some time off to backpack through India. I had never had the chance to do anything like this. For the first time in a long time, I was excited about the prospect of a trip, but what I didn’t know was that this trip would be so radically different from all the trips I had ever taken.
    I landed in Miami in the morning, and that very night at seven in the evening we held the opening of the restaurant for the public and the press. Just three hours later, at ten o’clock at night, I boarded a plane once again, this time en route to India. Had it been a work thing, I would have probably not been as excited, but this time it was different; I felt a kind of special energy. As we had planned, my friend the backup singer came along with me, and together we arrived in Calcutta to meet our new friend.
    I had been to India a couple of times, but they were always work trips and always for very short periods of time. Even though it’s a country that had always intrigued and fascinated me, I had never had the time to properly explore it. Every time I would visit a city for the first time, I’d try my best to see as many of the main attractions as possible, but it was never enough to give me a real sense of the place or the people.
    There was something about India that deeply intrigued me and drew me in, and I had always wanted to see more of it. As a country, India already occupied a special place in my heart, but it was not until I went there with my friend the ex-monk that I realized how little of it I really knew. It was not until I arrived with my backpack slung over my shoulder to meet my spiritual leader that I could finally discover the true beauty of Mother India.
    The little yogi had it all planned out. We’d spend the first night in Calcutta, and then we would travel to the small village of Puri by train.
    I always say that whoever goes to India and does not visit a train station has not really been to India. Indian train stations are some of the most amazing places I have ever seen, full of people, activities, sounds, smells, and colors. The important thing is to forget that you are a foreigner, to see yourself as part of the snapshot and reality of that moment. Because if not, the chaos that can ensue is enough to make a person go running in the other direction. Hundreds of people hustle and bustle to get a spot on the train. People scream and argue, and all you want to do is get to your seat with your backpack. Children on the street run all along the sides of the train, screaming: “Hello! Hello, sir!”
    The day we went to take the train to Puri, in the midst of all the mayhem, there were four kids who yanked at my backpack and pulled on my pant legs. I told them no several times, until I finally took off my backpack and said, “Stop!”
    They were speaking Bengali. And I spoke to them in Spanish and English. But they spoke neither, and I, of course, didn’t speak Bengali.
    So, I took hold of the four kids and said to them, “Hold on!” and I began to sing: “Palo, palo, palo, palo, palito, palo es . . .”
    It’s a typical Latin American children’s song, the kind you teach very young children.
    They were mesmerized. “Eh?” they said with a surprised look on their faces. But soon enough they started imitating the words to the song.
    “Palo, palo, palo, palo, palito, palo es . . . ,” they repeated.
    Just then and totally unexpectedly, I taught those children something that came from my part of the world. Once again, music transcended the language barriers that would have otherwise come between us. And even though they didn’t understand a word of what I was saying, I felt that we made a connection through music. It was a singular moment, in which we lessened the gap between our cultures and touched something very deep within our humanity.
    After playing with the kids for a little while, I finally said good-bye to them and boarded the train amid all the madness and we headed toward Puri.
    Puri is a well-known town because one of the most sacred temples of Hindu culture is situated there. The temple, which has existed for thousands of years, is called Shree Jagannath, as it is dedicated to the Hindu god Jagganatha, which is an incarnation of Krishna. Only Hindus are allowed to enter the temple. Each year, thousands of Vishne-Krishna worshippers arrive at its doors, for a festival where they mount an idol of Krishna on a