I returned the man’s friendly bow. Even though he was holding a old-fashioned broom he radiated calmness and respect.

He leaned the broom against the twisting trunk of a great tree and dusted off his hands. “I thought you would be more comfortable at the dojo.”

“Dojo?” I said stupidly. “What dojo?”

“Oh, maybe it hasn’t been thought of yet.”

“If it hasn’t been thought of then how do you know about it?” I countered.

“Time is flexible here. Never mind that now. Would you like a tour? Before you say no, let me say that the tour ends with drinking tea in the shade of the Bhodi tree.”

A white shape dashed past me, making almost no noise at all.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Oh, just a parkour enthusiast. There’s a shortcut through the Gardens that leads to the Warrens and they love the Warrens- all of those tight spaces, I suspect.” The man’s tone was that of an amused father. “Don’t worry they won’t bother us. Are you ready?”

I found that my irritation had melted away, replaced with curiosity. “I am.”