The ocean breeze lofted the smell of saltwater and kelp in the muggy air. Each footstep in the street reminded me how grateful I was to not be lugging around a backpack, simultaneously the ache in my hips and lower back felt was painfully apparent. Cracking off the lid to a cold, 32 oz. mountain spring water, I noticed the oddest thing. Across the street I saw a beggar wearing only cloth around his waist, a stained t-shirt, striking a glass bottle with a nail. The loud sharp noise echoed though me like a painful knife. It got closer and closer. And still I was curious, I watched him instead of walking away. Frankly, the long awaited drink of water was enough. The beggar had been called over to a chat with another person- a strong professional Indian man in his mid-30s, about 30 feet from me. After a short conversation, the two began an ayurvedic massage. Just like that. The massage must have been really good because after the professional had oil poured over his head from the glass bottle it was deeply rubbed all over his upper body His shoulders dropped down and he let a loud sigh of relief with his head slumped to one side.