My first day back in India was just as you would imagine: overwhelming, overheated, and under-slept.

I left on a Thursday afternoon and arrived early Saturday morning. Doesn’t that just say it all?

Fifteen hours from SFO to Dubai, three hours and 45 minutes from Dubai to Chennai, then a three-hour drive south along the coast to Auroville. Add in 90 minutes in Dubai and an hour at Chennai airport awaiting our luggage, and how about an hour to SFO and two hours at SFO….let’s see, do the math: Door to door Danielle and I spent about 28 hours traveling here.

Travel comes from the Middle English “travail,” to toil, to labor. That’s exactly what Danielle and I did.

Once here, we got into our rooms. My room is Balance, which is right next to Enthusiasm. All the rooms in Verite have names like that: Gratitude, etc.

I spot my requisite resident reptile behind the Western-style toilet. Lizard or frog, not sure which.

I now have one room key and one for the locked drawer aka “the safe.”

We chow down on an organic ayervedic breakfast. What is an ayervedic breakfast? I have no idea, but it was delicious: fruit, hot cereal, bread, yogurt, homemade jams and peanut butter, hot tea, and more.

Then Kathir filled out our paperwork online in the office and gave us our Auroville ID card, our keys to the kingdom of Auroville.

Kathir can’t believe I’m 54. I owe him 500 rupees for the Auroville guest fee, but I don’t have enough. Must get some rupees pronto.

Next we meet up with Kathir in the dining room, where we fill out paper forms with the exact same information he has keyboarded into the computer. These forms have to be filed with the government within 24 hours of arrival in the country.

Mani the moped wrangler shows up with our motorbikes. I’m totally surprised got my bike on the first day, as planned. Rarely does anything go as planned in India, so it’s always a jolt to the system when it does. I owe him 1200 rupees as a deposit. Since he knows us from last time, it’s OK, I can pay him later.

He is surprised and pleased when I hold up my iPhone and show him my contact list. He’s already in there, listed as: Mani Mopeds.

My bike is blue, just like last time. But it has a kickstart, which is harder than it looks. Plus there is a lock with a separate key. I now have four keys to keep track of.

Starting the motorbike is much harder than riding it. Here are directions: First unlock the padlock and hang it on the hook . Put the key into the starter and turn the bike on.

Switch the fuel switch from off to on. Pull out the kickstart pedal with your left foot. Stomp on it once. Stomp on it again. As soon as you hear any sign of life, give it some gas. To do that, you twist the right handle forward, away from you. Careful, not too much or you will lurch forward and run over someone’s foot or hit a cow.

OK, now the bike is humming. Settle in and pull up the kickstand with your left foot. Don’t forget to twist the kickstart pedal back in flush with the bike. Twist the right handle forward until you get some forward motion. Now you’re moving. Whoaaa, that’s too fast.

To slow down, use your brakes on the handles. Left is back, right is front. Avoid at all costs squeezing them unevenly or you will end up in the dirt.

I have to relearn all this while completely insane from exhaustion and lack of sleep and lack of caffeine: Verite guest house, unlike Sharngha, is caffeine free. Must buy some coffee and filters.

Sabine and Philippe show up to say hi. Then it’s off to the Town Hall which closes at 12:30. We have to deposit some dollars into our Auroville account and withdraw some rupees.

We decide we are too whacked to safely ride our motorbikes, so we take the aptly named Indian “push” bikes instead. The seat on mine is way too low; it’s like a kid’s bike. Foolishly, I set off on it and am quickly exhausted, plus my right knee hurts. This is not a good way to start off a Nia dance workshop.

On the other hand, it’s relaxing to cruise quietly along the red dirt roads and admire the green jungle foliage that stretches away on both sides.

We make it to Town Hall on time, but while waiting in line, I start to feel dizzy and faint. My skin is hot and dry. I am mad at myself for forgetting to bring my water bottle or to wear a hat. Heat stroke is imminent. When it’s my turn, I can barely think straight, and the woman behind the counter is not helpful. I’m too ill to care.

Outside in the main entrance, I ask a woman at the front desk where I can get some drinking water and she points upstairs. I haul myself up there, and we find a staff kitchen. I get my water, then we go outside and sit down on the ground, leaning against the building while I cool off. I’m grateful there’s a breeze and shade.

We bike back slowly, and Danielle generously trades bikes with me, which is truly heroic because she’s taller than I am and presumably has longer legs. We get back just in time for lunch, and once again, chow down on delicious ayervedic cuisine. I guess I’m not going to die of heat stroke after all.

Finally, finally, I get back in my room and fall on the rock hard bed. I am too tired to sleep, so I just lie in the heat, delirious and dizzy. The sound of bad Indian rock music comes in the screened windows. It’s Pongal, the harvest festival, and the villagers are celebrating.