Today was my nephew Davin`s first Fishmas (FYI, this blog is being written on a computer, or ordinateur, belonging to a Quebecoise - and I don`t know how to make the apostrophies angle the way I want them to, so if anyone has a problem with this they should stop reading now). I have to call it Fishmas because of the extreme amount of seafood I have consumed over the last 24 hours. For dinner this evening I made a sandwich with tomato and homemade fishsticks. For lunch I had saba noodles with salmon sashimi. Last night we gorged ourselves at a fancy-shmancy hotel`s asian buffet complete with crabs, oysters on the half shell, sushi, smoked salmon, and prawn curries (one of which was described on the comment card as tasting like an outhouse smells). But, by the same logic, this holiday could just as easily be called Ginmas, Beermas, or Redwinemas as the booze has been flowing, but Fishmas has a better ring to it...
Alice`s last blog descibed the hardship we endured at the Puncak mansion. Once we returned to Jakarta we needed some downtime so we ordered in Indian food and watched House on DVD. I was really hoping that House and Dr. Cameron would do the nasty but House`s damned ex-girlfriend had to show up with her dying husband and mess up House`s head and in so doing ruined whatever him and Cameron had going on. Boo.
The other day was pretty busy. We walked to the Grand Indonesian, an 8 story tall shopping mall, in search of new running shoes to replace the shoes that were in my bag that was eaten by Indian airports. After scouting out some footwear Alice and I met my family at the cinema and watched the movie `Devil` - bad... Not the worst. The seats were really comfortble at least. There was a preview for a new Val Kilmer movie called `The Traveler`that was cool not because the movie looked good but because of how bad Val Kilmer looks. Oh how the Iceman has fallen.
After the movie Alice, Claire, her man-friend Lucas and I thought it best to take a taxi the 2kms to Adrian`s apartment because we were short on time before our ultimate frisbee match (it took me a long time to pick out a pair of shoes). We should have just walked because the taxi took 30 minutes to get there - the traffic in Jakarta needs Dr. House to come and do some diagnostic medicine to find out why the hell the it only moves 2 meters every 6 seconds.
Frisbee was pretty fun. We got there by motorcycle, ran around for a few hours, and then took motorbikes back. Claire`s man-friend Lucas kept diving on the astroturf and by the end looked like he needed a skin graff from Dr. House. Alice and I ran into each other during frisbee and she had to take a time out. She said, ``If I would have closed my eyes I would have blacked out.`` I think she was faking it and was just trying to make me look like a bad human. I wish Dr. House would have been there to tell the world she is a liar. I mean all patients lies. And Fishmas is a time for families, and you can`t spell families without the word lies. We are heading to frisbee again tomorrow. I hope Alice learns not to be such a faker by then.
Alice is no longer Alice Muirhead. She is Alice Walraven. Sorry Muirheads. But through some Fishmas miracle she has transitioned perfectly into our family shananigans. I`ll let her tell you about the mystery of the Muff Wipes...
So I`m standing in the room I`m sharing with Dave, putting my stuff away to avoid having Dave yell, `Muirhead!!! move your shit!!!` when I hear Adrian in the living room saying `whose muff wipe is this? Does anyone know who put this here?` I think... maybe I misheard.... then I hear `Seriously, who put this here, Claire, are you missing a muff wipe? Katherine, is this yours? MOM this is yours isn`t it?`
This went on for some time, everyone denying that they had anything to do with the Muff Wipe, with most of the blame resting on poor Gail (who very patiently bears all the jokes her children make about her), before we decided it had probably been left by someone visiting the apartment earlier in the week. Since it first appeared, the Muff Wipe has been the subject of countless jokes and often appears in my bed, on the dinning room table, on the balcony seats, or on the coffee table, with whoever finds it exclaiming `whose damn Muff Wipe is this???`
The Muff Wipe is only the tip of the Walraven iceburg of dirty jokes. The Walravens are perverts but I`m having a great time!
Merry Fishmas everyone.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Long Overdue Update!!!
I started this blog almost a week ago, but only just finished today. Sorry for the wait!
What have I been doing, you might ask, since I've completely neglected the blog? Well, let me tell you...
The day my yoga course finished, I packed up my stuff and got out of that overpriced luxury accommodation as quickly as possible. With my yoga friends Kat and Chloe, I moved to Arambol, a town about 10 minutes drive down the road from where the course was in Mandrem. We found the cheapest, most disgusting hotel possible and relaxed before our big trip to Hampi. In his last post (or the one before?) Dave wrote a bit about his trip to Hampi, so I won't bore you with the details (it still looked like bedrock, there were still loads of temple and palace ruins). But I will tell you that traveling with 3 girls is insane compared to Dave- they take FOREVER to go anywhere and they NEVER stop talking. Needless to say, it was a bit overwhelming for me.
Hampi
Hampi
We spent three days in Hampi, at an even cheaper and more disgusting hotel. You'd think things would have improved since I was staying with girls, but they didn't. I ended up having to play Dave to my friend Maudie, assuring her that the rat that ran across our bed, leaving it's poo behind, would not be back in the night and that she should just calm down and go to sleep.
We took overnight buses to and from Hampi, which turned out to be much more exciting than any overnight bus ride I've had so far. On the way there, the girls and I were sharing four sleepers at the back. We were sitting happily, a pile of snacks in front of us, ready for the 14 hour ride when the ticket collector came toward us, a blond girl following. He informed us that the bus had been overbooked and the girl wouldn't have a seat if we didn't move over for her. I immediately moved, smiling and nodding, feeling sorry for the poor girl and not doubting the ticket collector's honesty for a second. My friends however, were much more skeptical, and quickly accused the ticket collector of selling the seats to other people and forcing the girl to share with us. They demanded compensation since we had paid for our seats. I just sat back, amazed that they really thought they would get anywhere arguing with an Indian ticket collector. They didn't, and the girl ended up squeezed in with us.
On the return journey, the driver stopped an hour away from the town we had all booked to go to and told us we had to get off. I was happy to get off, roll my eyes, shrug my shoulders, it's India, what to do, right? My friends, however, were having none of it. They demanded that the driver take us the whole way, and got everyone to refuse to leave the bus. I hid in my bunk, convinced that the driver would just start throwing our things out the window, but to my surprise, he started the bus and drove us the rest of the way. So maybe it is worth arguing on an Indian bus.
We came back from Hampi and moved into a great guesthouse in Arambol, perched on a cliff looking down at the ocean. We spent the next few days going to the beach, eating papaya and pineapple, doing a little yoga and shopping. We rented scooters a few times and rode around happily, until I got pulled over at a road block and had my scooter taken away because I don't have an international drivers license. The 6 Indian police waving their arms at me informed me I could keep the bike if I paid Rp 950 (about $23) or I could give them my Canadian license and pay Rp 450. Fortunately when I rented the bike I didn't leave my passport or a deposit, so the only consequence to leaving the bike with the police was major bad karma.
Phoebe, Maudie & Chloe, my beautiful yogi friends, on our way back from Paradise Beach
For a few days in Arambol, Dave was staying at the same guesthouse, and it was great to have him there with my yogi friends. But the draw of his new nephew was stronger than the draw of Goa, and Dave took off for Jakarta, leaving me to fly alone 4 days later. When I did leave, it was very sad for me to say goodbye, not just to my friends, but to the beach and landscape of Goa I had become so at home in. Tears streaming down my face, I found a cab to take me to the airport. With me gazing out the back window, waving frantically to my shrinking friends, the cab driver exclaimed, "you sad? I play sad music." For the next two hours, not only was I sad, I was tortured by pounding Enrique Iglesias and wailing Celine Dion.
Dave introduced me to this place, they made the best sandwiches in Arambol
I survived somehow, and, three flights later, arrived in Jakarta the next day. This is when the suffering really begins. Dave and his brother picked me and their mum up from the airport (Gail had flown from Canada) and took us back to Adrian's awful apartment. I was forced to relax all afternoon, AND the next day. Dave's bag was lost at some point between Goa and Jakarta, so using his Visa insurance money we went to the Grand Indonesia and replaced his wardrobe. Imagine how difficult this was for me- having to spend all afternoon in a mall, choosing things for Dave to try on and spending money that wasn't mine. The difficulties continued that night, when Adrian's helper prepared an Indonesian feast for us. In the morning, Adrian had the nerve to take us all to a mansion outside of Jakarta, surrounded by tea plantations, palm trees and other beautiful mansions. We spent three torturous days there, reading books, playing board games, swimming in the pool, eating food prepared by Adrian and practicing yoga on the balcony. We're now back in Jakarta, again staying in Adrian's awful apartment, suffering beside the pool.
We're spending Christmas in Jakarta before heading to Bali and Gili Trawangan. Hopefully I'll survive.
ps. I've posted new pictures on facebook, look if you like....
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=5504244&l=57d99837dc&id=511324453
What have I been doing, you might ask, since I've completely neglected the blog? Well, let me tell you...
The day my yoga course finished, I packed up my stuff and got out of that overpriced luxury accommodation as quickly as possible. With my yoga friends Kat and Chloe, I moved to Arambol, a town about 10 minutes drive down the road from where the course was in Mandrem. We found the cheapest, most disgusting hotel possible and relaxed before our big trip to Hampi. In his last post (or the one before?) Dave wrote a bit about his trip to Hampi, so I won't bore you with the details (it still looked like bedrock, there were still loads of temple and palace ruins). But I will tell you that traveling with 3 girls is insane compared to Dave- they take FOREVER to go anywhere and they NEVER stop talking. Needless to say, it was a bit overwhelming for me.
Hampi
Hampi
We spent three days in Hampi, at an even cheaper and more disgusting hotel. You'd think things would have improved since I was staying with girls, but they didn't. I ended up having to play Dave to my friend Maudie, assuring her that the rat that ran across our bed, leaving it's poo behind, would not be back in the night and that she should just calm down and go to sleep.
We took overnight buses to and from Hampi, which turned out to be much more exciting than any overnight bus ride I've had so far. On the way there, the girls and I were sharing four sleepers at the back. We were sitting happily, a pile of snacks in front of us, ready for the 14 hour ride when the ticket collector came toward us, a blond girl following. He informed us that the bus had been overbooked and the girl wouldn't have a seat if we didn't move over for her. I immediately moved, smiling and nodding, feeling sorry for the poor girl and not doubting the ticket collector's honesty for a second. My friends however, were much more skeptical, and quickly accused the ticket collector of selling the seats to other people and forcing the girl to share with us. They demanded compensation since we had paid for our seats. I just sat back, amazed that they really thought they would get anywhere arguing with an Indian ticket collector. They didn't, and the girl ended up squeezed in with us.
On the return journey, the driver stopped an hour away from the town we had all booked to go to and told us we had to get off. I was happy to get off, roll my eyes, shrug my shoulders, it's India, what to do, right? My friends, however, were having none of it. They demanded that the driver take us the whole way, and got everyone to refuse to leave the bus. I hid in my bunk, convinced that the driver would just start throwing our things out the window, but to my surprise, he started the bus and drove us the rest of the way. So maybe it is worth arguing on an Indian bus.
We came back from Hampi and moved into a great guesthouse in Arambol, perched on a cliff looking down at the ocean. We spent the next few days going to the beach, eating papaya and pineapple, doing a little yoga and shopping. We rented scooters a few times and rode around happily, until I got pulled over at a road block and had my scooter taken away because I don't have an international drivers license. The 6 Indian police waving their arms at me informed me I could keep the bike if I paid Rp 950 (about $23) or I could give them my Canadian license and pay Rp 450. Fortunately when I rented the bike I didn't leave my passport or a deposit, so the only consequence to leaving the bike with the police was major bad karma.
Phoebe, Maudie & Chloe, my beautiful yogi friends, on our way back from Paradise BeachFor a few days in Arambol, Dave was staying at the same guesthouse, and it was great to have him there with my yogi friends. But the draw of his new nephew was stronger than the draw of Goa, and Dave took off for Jakarta, leaving me to fly alone 4 days later. When I did leave, it was very sad for me to say goodbye, not just to my friends, but to the beach and landscape of Goa I had become so at home in. Tears streaming down my face, I found a cab to take me to the airport. With me gazing out the back window, waving frantically to my shrinking friends, the cab driver exclaimed, "you sad? I play sad music." For the next two hours, not only was I sad, I was tortured by pounding Enrique Iglesias and wailing Celine Dion.
Dave introduced me to this place, they made the best sandwiches in ArambolI survived somehow, and, three flights later, arrived in Jakarta the next day. This is when the suffering really begins. Dave and his brother picked me and their mum up from the airport (Gail had flown from Canada) and took us back to Adrian's awful apartment. I was forced to relax all afternoon, AND the next day. Dave's bag was lost at some point between Goa and Jakarta, so using his Visa insurance money we went to the Grand Indonesia and replaced his wardrobe. Imagine how difficult this was for me- having to spend all afternoon in a mall, choosing things for Dave to try on and spending money that wasn't mine. The difficulties continued that night, when Adrian's helper prepared an Indonesian feast for us. In the morning, Adrian had the nerve to take us all to a mansion outside of Jakarta, surrounded by tea plantations, palm trees and other beautiful mansions. We spent three torturous days there, reading books, playing board games, swimming in the pool, eating food prepared by Adrian and practicing yoga on the balcony. We're now back in Jakarta, again staying in Adrian's awful apartment, suffering beside the pool.
We're spending Christmas in Jakarta before heading to Bali and Gili Trawangan. Hopefully I'll survive.
ps. I've posted new pictures on facebook, look if you like....
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=5504244&l=57d99837dc&id=511324453
Saturday, December 4, 2010
More Yoga
Hi everyone... thank you for reading our blog so faithfully!
Today is my last day of yoga school, and as of this afternoon, I am a "yoga teacher"! (if you don't like yoga, watch out, all I want to do now is teach yoga, to anyone, anywhere)
How was was it you ask? Well, apart from the geometric carrots, it was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I learned so much about yoga- not just asanas, but the other aspects as well. Apart from the course though, the last month has been incredible because I've spent it with the most creative, loving, wonderful people who I've had so much fun with- like having Dave around but x27.
The first two weeks followed a fairly consistent schedule of meditation, asana class, breakfast, more classes, more food and sleeping. The third week, as I wrote in the last post, was similar, except we had self practice in the morning and more teaching practice than the first to weeks. The schedule wasn't exactly strenuous, and though I was tired at night, I didn't get sick or hurt myself (other people did and struggled). The fourth week however, was quite intense.
We got up for meditation at the same time, then did an hour of self practice, followed by breakfast. Then, to accommodate for the fact that everyone had to teach a one hour class to a group of 6-8 other people within the week, we did another 2-3 hours of asana class, in addition to giving feedback and comments to each teacher. In the afternoon, in case we weren't already dying, we did special workshops on acroyoga and Thai massage. Then, in case we had any energy left, we danced or chanted after dinner. By Monday at 2pm I was exhausted.
I taught my class on Thursday - naturally I got the last spot because I was late to sign up and all the other spots were taken- but fortunately I was too achy to be stressed and spent the week memorizing the feedback other people got and figuring out how not to teach. When it finally came to my turn I thought everyone in my class would just lay there, too tired and too sore move, but they somehow found the energy and miraculously followed my directions.
Today is our graduation, this afternoon we're having a puja ceremony where we will receive our certificates. This morning, as a sort of celebration, we didn't have to do meditation or asana practice. Instead, we got to go out on the water as the sun was rising and see the dolphins that swim near Arambol.
This is all I can write for today, tonight we're having a final talent show/ entertainment circle after dinner, and I'm supposed to be the master of ceremonies- so apparently I need to round up the talent and make some sort of list.
Love Alice
ps- if you want to check out where I spent the month, this is the website. (It really is as nice as it looks)
http://www.ashiyana-yoga-goa.com/
Today is my last day of yoga school, and as of this afternoon, I am a "yoga teacher"! (if you don't like yoga, watch out, all I want to do now is teach yoga, to anyone, anywhere)
How was was it you ask? Well, apart from the geometric carrots, it was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I learned so much about yoga- not just asanas, but the other aspects as well. Apart from the course though, the last month has been incredible because I've spent it with the most creative, loving, wonderful people who I've had so much fun with- like having Dave around but x27.
The first two weeks followed a fairly consistent schedule of meditation, asana class, breakfast, more classes, more food and sleeping. The third week, as I wrote in the last post, was similar, except we had self practice in the morning and more teaching practice than the first to weeks. The schedule wasn't exactly strenuous, and though I was tired at night, I didn't get sick or hurt myself (other people did and struggled). The fourth week however, was quite intense.
We got up for meditation at the same time, then did an hour of self practice, followed by breakfast. Then, to accommodate for the fact that everyone had to teach a one hour class to a group of 6-8 other people within the week, we did another 2-3 hours of asana class, in addition to giving feedback and comments to each teacher. In the afternoon, in case we weren't already dying, we did special workshops on acroyoga and Thai massage. Then, in case we had any energy left, we danced or chanted after dinner. By Monday at 2pm I was exhausted.
I taught my class on Thursday - naturally I got the last spot because I was late to sign up and all the other spots were taken- but fortunately I was too achy to be stressed and spent the week memorizing the feedback other people got and figuring out how not to teach. When it finally came to my turn I thought everyone in my class would just lay there, too tired and too sore move, but they somehow found the energy and miraculously followed my directions.
Today is our graduation, this afternoon we're having a puja ceremony where we will receive our certificates. This morning, as a sort of celebration, we didn't have to do meditation or asana practice. Instead, we got to go out on the water as the sun was rising and see the dolphins that swim near Arambol.
This is all I can write for today, tonight we're having a final talent show/ entertainment circle after dinner, and I'm supposed to be the master of ceremonies- so apparently I need to round up the talent and make some sort of list.
Love Alice
ps- if you want to check out where I spent the month, this is the website. (It really is as nice as it looks)
http://www.ashiyana-yoga-goa.com/
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Arambol to Hampi
Woah, I am a lazy bastard. Two weeks and no blog? Who the hell do I think I am? Don't I know I have friends and family who depend on this blog as an escape from the monotony of Canadian life?
Well faithful readers, what do you want from me? Can't I just have a little time to myself? Really? You're relentless.
What have I been up to? It has been so long I can hardly remember. Let me see...oh yeah, nothing.
I spent 10 days in Arambol, but it seemed like only a few. Arambol was quiet with not much to do but sit on the beach and drink fresh juices. I went to the same German Bakery every morning for breakfast, and the same Asian restaurant every night for dinner. All of my Israeli friends were a lot cooler/braver than me and all had motorcycles that they either bought or rented. I was way too scared/smart to drive in India so didn't get a bike. Because I didn't get my own bike I always had to ride on the back of one of the Israeli guys' bikes. It was emasculating to say the least, but it beat getting left out of the 'going places' action.
One interesting thing that happened in Arambol happened to my nipple. It now has a shiny bar-bell through it. I decided to go through with the piercing because my friend Noy was having hers done and it seemed like a good idea. I mean why have a boring old regular nipple when you can have a nipple with a little pizzazz? (I showed my mum and Omi (gma) on skype and they freaked out, but in my opinion they are just jealous that I thought of doing it before they did. I'm sure now that they've seen how good it looks they will both have bar-bells of their own by Christmas.) Noy went first while sat outside. I could hear her screaming and screaming which made me a little nervous. Nevertheless I sat down and before I knew it the whole operation was complete. It didn't even hurt and only cost 12 bucks. I'm now all healed up and thankfully infection free (I have seen some real nightmare nose and ear piercings that people have had done here in India which became super infected but apparently I take to piercings like a new born polar bear takes to the pure driven snow).
I made about a dozen new Israeli friends in Arambol and my Hebrew is coming along nicely. I was one of the first of the group to leave (in fact they are all still there if I'm not mistaken as they are sticking around to see Shpongle DJ tonight in Anjuna) and it was one of the best goodbyes on record. Everyone showed up at my favorite German Bakery to see me off. The owner of the bakery turned up Trance music really loud and it was bumping as I said all my "Shaloms" and "See you laters".
My departure from Arambol to Hampi was very spur of the moment. My friend Ayala got screwed by a travel agent and got stuck with an extra ticket which I was happy to take off her hands. The overnight bus to Hampi was uneventful. I shared a sleeper with a guy named Josi and chipped away on my book. In Hampi I stayed at a guest house called Bobby which also had a German Bakery which made me very happy.
Hampi looks like the town of Bedrock from the Flinstones. I had a yabadabadoo time. My first morning there, Ayala and I walked to the monkey temple on the hill and took in the beautiful boulder strewn scenery. On the walk back a man on a motorcycle did a drive by boob grab on Ayala and from then onwards I was always sure to walk in-between her and the road. My second day was spent sitting on a boulder doing some chanting and meditation in the sun. The third day I walked to a man made lake where you can do some cliff jumping into crocodile filled waters. Each morning I went to yoga and each evening I went to a Tibetan restaurant for noodle soup and a movie. The movies shown were always really good. I saw The Hangover, __________, Seven Years in Tibet, and Something About Mary. One night I mistakenly had a cappuccino right before bed and ended up staying awake until 6am. The next day wasn't pretty and I ended up coming down with a cold from which I have now recovered. In addition to eating at the German Bakery and the Tibetan place I also frequented a place called Shesh Besh which is Arabic for Backgammon. The entire restaurant was shaped like a giant backgammon board and if anyone so desired they could have played a life size game, but we settled for the normal sized boards on each floor-level table.
Hampi is a world heritage site with ancient ruins build into the rock. Very nice. Hampi is also home to a Shiva temple with an elephant named Laxmi that blesses you with her trunk if you give her 10 rupees. She takes it from your hand, passes it to her handler, and then bonks you on the head with her trunk. I didn't go for it because it seemed kind of cruel, but others did and it was quite something to see. She apparently can distinguish between 5 and 10 rupee notes and if you try to fool her with a 5 don't count on getting blessed.
I almost didn't make my bus out of Hampi to Gokarna because the clock in the Shesh Besh was wrong and the ferry I need to cross the river doesn't move until it full. Once across I asked the million rickshaw drivers who was the fasted and promised a tip to anyone who could get me to my bus on time. I found the fastest guy and made it with only two minutes to spare. The bus was a real piece of junk and broke down on the side of the highway for about an hour and 11pm. The driver tinkered with it, got it going, and off we went. We stopped at a roadside dhabba near midnight for dinner and I had the best Aloo Gobi I've had in India. The bus arrived in Gokarna, inconveniently, at 430 in the morning, well before any guest houses were open so I sat on the beach and watched the sunrise.
I am now in Gokarna at Om beach and miss my Hampi friend-family, but fill the void of their absence with beach volleyball. I leave India for Indonesia on the 13th and am really excited to see my new nephew.
Hope everyone at home is well. My gma Wally is in the hospital so if everyone can send her some good vibes I would appreciate it. The days are passing too quickly, but the bright side is that I will see you all soon.
Love you!!! Happy Hanukkah! Comments bitches.
Well faithful readers, what do you want from me? Can't I just have a little time to myself? Really? You're relentless.
What have I been up to? It has been so long I can hardly remember. Let me see...oh yeah, nothing.
I spent 10 days in Arambol, but it seemed like only a few. Arambol was quiet with not much to do but sit on the beach and drink fresh juices. I went to the same German Bakery every morning for breakfast, and the same Asian restaurant every night for dinner. All of my Israeli friends were a lot cooler/braver than me and all had motorcycles that they either bought or rented. I was way too scared/smart to drive in India so didn't get a bike. Because I didn't get my own bike I always had to ride on the back of one of the Israeli guys' bikes. It was emasculating to say the least, but it beat getting left out of the 'going places' action.
One interesting thing that happened in Arambol happened to my nipple. It now has a shiny bar-bell through it. I decided to go through with the piercing because my friend Noy was having hers done and it seemed like a good idea. I mean why have a boring old regular nipple when you can have a nipple with a little pizzazz? (I showed my mum and Omi (gma) on skype and they freaked out, but in my opinion they are just jealous that I thought of doing it before they did. I'm sure now that they've seen how good it looks they will both have bar-bells of their own by Christmas.) Noy went first while sat outside. I could hear her screaming and screaming which made me a little nervous. Nevertheless I sat down and before I knew it the whole operation was complete. It didn't even hurt and only cost 12 bucks. I'm now all healed up and thankfully infection free (I have seen some real nightmare nose and ear piercings that people have had done here in India which became super infected but apparently I take to piercings like a new born polar bear takes to the pure driven snow).
I made about a dozen new Israeli friends in Arambol and my Hebrew is coming along nicely. I was one of the first of the group to leave (in fact they are all still there if I'm not mistaken as they are sticking around to see Shpongle DJ tonight in Anjuna) and it was one of the best goodbyes on record. Everyone showed up at my favorite German Bakery to see me off. The owner of the bakery turned up Trance music really loud and it was bumping as I said all my "Shaloms" and "See you laters".
My departure from Arambol to Hampi was very spur of the moment. My friend Ayala got screwed by a travel agent and got stuck with an extra ticket which I was happy to take off her hands. The overnight bus to Hampi was uneventful. I shared a sleeper with a guy named Josi and chipped away on my book. In Hampi I stayed at a guest house called Bobby which also had a German Bakery which made me very happy.
Hampi looks like the town of Bedrock from the Flinstones. I had a yabadabadoo time. My first morning there, Ayala and I walked to the monkey temple on the hill and took in the beautiful boulder strewn scenery. On the walk back a man on a motorcycle did a drive by boob grab on Ayala and from then onwards I was always sure to walk in-between her and the road. My second day was spent sitting on a boulder doing some chanting and meditation in the sun. The third day I walked to a man made lake where you can do some cliff jumping into crocodile filled waters. Each morning I went to yoga and each evening I went to a Tibetan restaurant for noodle soup and a movie. The movies shown were always really good. I saw The Hangover, __________, Seven Years in Tibet, and Something About Mary. One night I mistakenly had a cappuccino right before bed and ended up staying awake until 6am. The next day wasn't pretty and I ended up coming down with a cold from which I have now recovered. In addition to eating at the German Bakery and the Tibetan place I also frequented a place called Shesh Besh which is Arabic for Backgammon. The entire restaurant was shaped like a giant backgammon board and if anyone so desired they could have played a life size game, but we settled for the normal sized boards on each floor-level table.
Hampi is a world heritage site with ancient ruins build into the rock. Very nice. Hampi is also home to a Shiva temple with an elephant named Laxmi that blesses you with her trunk if you give her 10 rupees. She takes it from your hand, passes it to her handler, and then bonks you on the head with her trunk. I didn't go for it because it seemed kind of cruel, but others did and it was quite something to see. She apparently can distinguish between 5 and 10 rupee notes and if you try to fool her with a 5 don't count on getting blessed.
I almost didn't make my bus out of Hampi to Gokarna because the clock in the Shesh Besh was wrong and the ferry I need to cross the river doesn't move until it full. Once across I asked the million rickshaw drivers who was the fasted and promised a tip to anyone who could get me to my bus on time. I found the fastest guy and made it with only two minutes to spare. The bus was a real piece of junk and broke down on the side of the highway for about an hour and 11pm. The driver tinkered with it, got it going, and off we went. We stopped at a roadside dhabba near midnight for dinner and I had the best Aloo Gobi I've had in India. The bus arrived in Gokarna, inconveniently, at 430 in the morning, well before any guest houses were open so I sat on the beach and watched the sunrise.
I am now in Gokarna at Om beach and miss my Hampi friend-family, but fill the void of their absence with beach volleyball. I leave India for Indonesia on the 13th and am really excited to see my new nephew.
Hope everyone at home is well. My gma Wally is in the hospital so if everyone can send her some good vibes I would appreciate it. The days are passing too quickly, but the bright side is that I will see you all soon.
Love you!!! Happy Hanukkah! Comments bitches.
Friday, November 26, 2010
A day at yoga school
Since Dave and I split up our blogging skills have severely diminished, as I'm sure you've noticed. My excuse is I've been very busy learning to bend and twist, I'm not sure what Dave's excuse is-based on my experience of him around beaches, he has no excuses and is just being lazy.
Here's what an average day looks like for me:
5:30 am- I get up, yank on running clothes and head up the road. It's dark, so I don't run on the beach, I stick to the road where there's a few street lights to illuminate the semi-wild dogs who get a big kick out of barking at me and chasing me down the road. I yell at them to leave me alone, but all I get is weird looks from the local people who stand at the ends of their driveways brushing their teeth and waiting for the man who sells vegetables from his bicycle basket.
7:00-8:00 am- After a frantic shower in which I worry about whether my roomate will one day slit my throat in my sleep for showering every morning right when she wants to brush her teeth, I rush to meditation. As most of you know, I am notorious for being late- another constant worry as I try to shower quickly- but, or perhaps because I am so afraid of coming in late, knocking something over and interrupting everyone meditating, I haven't been late yet (fingers crossed this continues).
Meditation isn't my strong point. My problem isn't, as you may assume, clearing my head of thoughts. No, my problem is I can't stay awake. It's as if my body has an automatic switch, if I sit still, doing nothing, for more than 10 minutes, I fall asleep. So everyday is a struggle, not to clear my mind, but to stay sitting upright at least look awake. Even on days I don't run this is a problem, so I don't think getting up too early is the issue.
8:00-10:00 am- After my generally unsuccessful meditation practice, we have two hours of asana class. In the first two weeks we were guided by various instructors, but since Monday, we have had to lead our own self practice. Initially I thought "oh god.... two hours of yoga... I'll get so bored!!!!" But the time actually flies by, and I've really enjoyed practicing on my own.
10:00-11:00 am- When 10:00 am arrives, it's finally time for breakfast. Everyday we're given fruit salad, porridge, yogurt, museli, toast and juice. I can't eat porridge or yogurt, and I don't particularily like museli, so my options at breakfast are limited to tropical fruit salad and toast. This morning during meditation I wrote this blog in head (it really helped to keep me awake) and when I got to the part about the fruit salad, I thought I would say I was about to go mental if I ate another bowl of papaya, pineapple, banana, apple, orange and some awful brown fruit I always pick out- BUT, luckily, they added strawberries and pomegranite to the usual mix- so I haven't gone mental, and I'll live to eat another bowl. (It was madness this morning when people caught on that there were strawberries- people were hiding around corners ready to bounce when the staff put a fresh bowl out- everyone wanted to be the first to pick through and make off with the strawberries).
11:00 am-1:50 pm- Breakfast is followed by one or two classes; this week we've done teaching practice everyday immediately after eating (which always makes me feel like I'm going to have to see the fruit salad all over again) but last week we mainly had anatomy or learning to teach classes. Practice teaching involves us splitting into groups of 3 and each taking a turn to "teach" for 20 minutes to half an hour, then sharing feedback with each other. Over the last couple days we were evaluated by our instructors, a process some people found nerve racking.
1:50-2:10pm- After our morning classes we are given twenty minutes before lunch to meditate, swim, run, walk, dance or do whatever we want that doesn't involve too much thinking (no reading, writing, talking). After sitting around all morning or patiently enduring teaching practice, I generally do handstands.
2:10-4:30pm- After our little meditation/celebration time we eat lunch. Lunch is always a salad of cucumber, carrot, tomato and occasionally avocado and lettuce, all cut into geometric shapes. You may be thinking, oh how nice, I'd like a salad for lunch everyday too! But, I urge you to think for a moment about raw carrots cut into geometric shapes and what that would be like to eat, day after day, mixed with nice soft cucumber and lettuce. After a while, it becomes all you can think about- will they grate the carrot, will I have a pleasant lunch, or will they cube the carrot, causing me to chew like a rabbit for half an hour? In addition to salad we get rice, dal and curried vegetables. Unlike the geometric salad, the dal and vegetables are prepared differently everyday.
After lunch we have a break until 4:30 pm. I usually eat quickly (as is possible given the shape of the carrots) and go to the beach to swim and lay in the sun. Sometimes though, I make the arduous journey 200 meters up the road to use the internet, which generally doesn't work, before returning to the Ashiyana bubble.
4:30-7:00pm- Following our break we have another one or two classes. Apart from anatomy and teaching practice, we study philosophy, the subtle body, bhakti and practice karma yoga. Philosophy is lead by our instructor, and owner of Ashiyana, Chris. The classes are based on Patanjali's sutras as interpreted by someone else. I find the classes interesting, and I don't worry too much about things I don't understand or agree with. Other people, however, get quite heated when they don't agree or understand what Chris is saying. It doesn't help that in response to nearly every question Chris says "I want you to examine where your question is coming from. You may find that when you do, you'll find it is only your disturbed mind talking, and the question becomes unimportant." A bit of an easy way out for him I'd say.
7:00-8:00pm- Once we've all been told we have disturbed minds, we're given dinner. The geometric salad makes a reappearance, along with more rice, dal and curried vegetables. In addition, we usually get something a bit more "non-Indian" like pasta, grated potatoes with spinach puree, chicken or fish or sometimes, if we're very lucky, pizza. We also get dessert, something we all look forward to all day. It generally doesn't live up to expectations, but, like pizza days, sometimes we're lucky and it's something delicious like chocolate balls.
8:00-9:30pm- Dinner is followed by a final activity, usually a sharing circle, chanting, dancing, or a movie. When we finish this activity we're not supposed to speak until 11:00 am the following day, so we all slip of to bed in silence, ready to do everything again the next day.
I hope this helps explain why I haven't written in so long! I have to rush now, to make it back for Karma yoga. Today I might have to do beach cleaning, since I put off doing it the last few sessions.
Love Alice
ps. I saw Dave on Sunday, we spent the afternoon together on the beach, but maybe he'll tell you all about it.
Here's what an average day looks like for me:
5:30 am- I get up, yank on running clothes and head up the road. It's dark, so I don't run on the beach, I stick to the road where there's a few street lights to illuminate the semi-wild dogs who get a big kick out of barking at me and chasing me down the road. I yell at them to leave me alone, but all I get is weird looks from the local people who stand at the ends of their driveways brushing their teeth and waiting for the man who sells vegetables from his bicycle basket.
7:00-8:00 am- After a frantic shower in which I worry about whether my roomate will one day slit my throat in my sleep for showering every morning right when she wants to brush her teeth, I rush to meditation. As most of you know, I am notorious for being late- another constant worry as I try to shower quickly- but, or perhaps because I am so afraid of coming in late, knocking something over and interrupting everyone meditating, I haven't been late yet (fingers crossed this continues).
Meditation isn't my strong point. My problem isn't, as you may assume, clearing my head of thoughts. No, my problem is I can't stay awake. It's as if my body has an automatic switch, if I sit still, doing nothing, for more than 10 minutes, I fall asleep. So everyday is a struggle, not to clear my mind, but to stay sitting upright at least look awake. Even on days I don't run this is a problem, so I don't think getting up too early is the issue.
8:00-10:00 am- After my generally unsuccessful meditation practice, we have two hours of asana class. In the first two weeks we were guided by various instructors, but since Monday, we have had to lead our own self practice. Initially I thought "oh god.... two hours of yoga... I'll get so bored!!!!" But the time actually flies by, and I've really enjoyed practicing on my own.
10:00-11:00 am- When 10:00 am arrives, it's finally time for breakfast. Everyday we're given fruit salad, porridge, yogurt, museli, toast and juice. I can't eat porridge or yogurt, and I don't particularily like museli, so my options at breakfast are limited to tropical fruit salad and toast. This morning during meditation I wrote this blog in head (it really helped to keep me awake) and when I got to the part about the fruit salad, I thought I would say I was about to go mental if I ate another bowl of papaya, pineapple, banana, apple, orange and some awful brown fruit I always pick out- BUT, luckily, they added strawberries and pomegranite to the usual mix- so I haven't gone mental, and I'll live to eat another bowl. (It was madness this morning when people caught on that there were strawberries- people were hiding around corners ready to bounce when the staff put a fresh bowl out- everyone wanted to be the first to pick through and make off with the strawberries).
11:00 am-1:50 pm- Breakfast is followed by one or two classes; this week we've done teaching practice everyday immediately after eating (which always makes me feel like I'm going to have to see the fruit salad all over again) but last week we mainly had anatomy or learning to teach classes. Practice teaching involves us splitting into groups of 3 and each taking a turn to "teach" for 20 minutes to half an hour, then sharing feedback with each other. Over the last couple days we were evaluated by our instructors, a process some people found nerve racking.
1:50-2:10pm- After our morning classes we are given twenty minutes before lunch to meditate, swim, run, walk, dance or do whatever we want that doesn't involve too much thinking (no reading, writing, talking). After sitting around all morning or patiently enduring teaching practice, I generally do handstands.
2:10-4:30pm- After our little meditation/celebration time we eat lunch. Lunch is always a salad of cucumber, carrot, tomato and occasionally avocado and lettuce, all cut into geometric shapes. You may be thinking, oh how nice, I'd like a salad for lunch everyday too! But, I urge you to think for a moment about raw carrots cut into geometric shapes and what that would be like to eat, day after day, mixed with nice soft cucumber and lettuce. After a while, it becomes all you can think about- will they grate the carrot, will I have a pleasant lunch, or will they cube the carrot, causing me to chew like a rabbit for half an hour? In addition to salad we get rice, dal and curried vegetables. Unlike the geometric salad, the dal and vegetables are prepared differently everyday.
After lunch we have a break until 4:30 pm. I usually eat quickly (as is possible given the shape of the carrots) and go to the beach to swim and lay in the sun. Sometimes though, I make the arduous journey 200 meters up the road to use the internet, which generally doesn't work, before returning to the Ashiyana bubble.
4:30-7:00pm- Following our break we have another one or two classes. Apart from anatomy and teaching practice, we study philosophy, the subtle body, bhakti and practice karma yoga. Philosophy is lead by our instructor, and owner of Ashiyana, Chris. The classes are based on Patanjali's sutras as interpreted by someone else. I find the classes interesting, and I don't worry too much about things I don't understand or agree with. Other people, however, get quite heated when they don't agree or understand what Chris is saying. It doesn't help that in response to nearly every question Chris says "I want you to examine where your question is coming from. You may find that when you do, you'll find it is only your disturbed mind talking, and the question becomes unimportant." A bit of an easy way out for him I'd say.
7:00-8:00pm- Once we've all been told we have disturbed minds, we're given dinner. The geometric salad makes a reappearance, along with more rice, dal and curried vegetables. In addition, we usually get something a bit more "non-Indian" like pasta, grated potatoes with spinach puree, chicken or fish or sometimes, if we're very lucky, pizza. We also get dessert, something we all look forward to all day. It generally doesn't live up to expectations, but, like pizza days, sometimes we're lucky and it's something delicious like chocolate balls.
8:00-9:30pm- Dinner is followed by a final activity, usually a sharing circle, chanting, dancing, or a movie. When we finish this activity we're not supposed to speak until 11:00 am the following day, so we all slip of to bed in silence, ready to do everything again the next day.
I hope this helps explain why I haven't written in so long! I have to rush now, to make it back for Karma yoga. Today I might have to do beach cleaning, since I put off doing it the last few sessions.
Love Alice
ps. I saw Dave on Sunday, we spent the afternoon together on the beach, but maybe he'll tell you all about it.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Surviving the Post-Alice Apocalypse
Dear faithful readers,
Some of the previous blog posts may have led you to believe that I am an incompetent invalid who couldn't possibly survive the dangers of traveling without a certain Alice Muirhead to manage my affairs. I thought this too. I mean, I get lost all the time, I'm a huge sucker when it comes to getting scammed, I speak with everyone on the street who says hello, and I have barely looked in the travel guide over the past 4.5 months. However, like a bird violently pushed from its nest in order to learn how to fly, Alice's abandonment has pushed me to new limits.
While Alice has been living it up in the lap of luxury, working on her bendy skills, I have been having solo adventures, meeting old friends, making new ones, and defying death at every turn.
Alice and I split up in Agra, with her going to Goa and me going to Pushkar. I took a bus from Agra to Pushkar and narrowly avoided an accidental trip to Delhi which would have added a handful of hours to the overall amount of travel to Rajastan (I didn't look at a map and thought that Delhi was where I wanted to make a connection to Pushkar but it would have meant going from Agra to Delhi and back again).
There wasn't much going on in Pushkar. It is mainly known for shopping and a camel festival, but I didn't shop and left town before the festival started because the cost of accommodation quadruples during the two week event. It was dusty and I sneezed a lot because of the mix of dirt in the air and the camels walking around in the streets. I met a really great guy from California named Peter who let me share a room with him for 3 nights so I could stay at the same guest house as Noy and Ira from Minali/Rishikesh.
In Pushkar there is a sacred and ancient lake associated with the legend of Shiva. I was given a handful of 'free' flowers to put in the lake for good luck, but when I went down to put them in I was grabbed my a Brahman who recited a blessing for me, my friends and family. He prayed to four different gods, asking for health and happiness for seven people. Afterward, he did some math and multiplied the number of people prayed for by the number of gods prayed to and told me I had to make a 'donation' of 3000 rupees (70 dollars). I told him I only had 300 rupees and he told me it wasn't possible to give so little. I was annoyed. It smacked of extortion combined with some old school Medieval absolution vending. The good thing about making a 'donation' at the lake temple was that afterward a string is tied to your wrist which indicates that you have made an offering - this string tells the many beggars on the street to leave you alone. I don't know if the string system is actually an effective deterrent because the string was tied so loosely that it came off the next day and I received plenty o' hassles...
The good karma from the lake actually carried forward because I nearly lost a silver spoon eagle ring (from Haida Gwaii) to a henna making gypsy, but in the end I got it back (my never ending faith in the goodness of people validated despite the nay saying of others)... I was walking in the market when I was grabbed by two women who started doing henna on my hand before I could say no. I figured "this is happening" and allowed them to drag me into a chai shop where they told me their life stories and covered me in swirls and squiggles. Despite my better judgment I allowed one of them to pull of my ring so that she could henna my middle finger. She slipped the ring onto her finger and I cringed anticipating some sort of problem. It quickly slipped my mind and off I went to meet up with people for breakfast. When I went to wash up before eating I realized that I left without the ring. The people I talked to on my way back to the market (to essentially find a needle in a hay stack) all assured me it was a scam and that the women are thieves etc... I didn't believe them because the women were so sweet, and hoped in my heart that it was all just a mistake. I looked and looked and after 30 minutes gave up the search. As soon as I gave up they appeared bright eyed and smiling. It seemed as though they were looking for me with the same enthusiasm with which I was looking for them. They gladly gave me my ring and I was touched my their inherent goodness. Yippee!
The only other interesting things that happened in Pushkar involve near death experiences. The first notable event was an earthquake that shook the city one night. I was asleep, but I spoke with people who said that things were really moving - but there didn't seem to be any death or destruction which is really lucky. The other nearly fatal story involves an Israeli pizza bread called a ziva. I had a ziva and went into anaphylactic shock. My throat closed up, my eyes and face puffed, I couldn't breath and I was super itchy all over my body. The Israelis I was hanging with immediately tapped into their army training and laid me out, elevated my feet, gave me a bunch of stuff to drink and went by motorbike to get some antihistamine pills from the pharmacy. I was better in no time, but it was really scary an totally lame. I asked for the ingredients in the ziva and there wasn't anything out of the ordinary so this may be an experience I'll have to repeat until I hone in on what it is I'm allergic to.
To sum up, I'm still alive, and doing fine without my old friend Bad Alice. I miss her, but know that she is off bending somewhere and that makes me happy because I know it makes her happy.
I'm lazing about on the beaches of Goa. Got here from Pushkar by train - 35 hours. Longest train ride of my life, but it went really quickly because I was traveling with great people. When we arrived in Arambol we rented an apartment overlooking the ocean for 5 bucks a person. It was a sweet pad with a humongous patio but I couldn't take anymore Hebrew and have settled into my own bamboo hut on the beach at the whopping price of 150 rupees a night - just over 3 dollars.
Sorry I didn't take any photos over the week. My camera was out of batteries and I am a lazy bastard. I've snapped a few photos here in Goa and will upload whenever I get sick of splashing around (yeah right...).
Comments?
xoxoxoox
Some of the previous blog posts may have led you to believe that I am an incompetent invalid who couldn't possibly survive the dangers of traveling without a certain Alice Muirhead to manage my affairs. I thought this too. I mean, I get lost all the time, I'm a huge sucker when it comes to getting scammed, I speak with everyone on the street who says hello, and I have barely looked in the travel guide over the past 4.5 months. However, like a bird violently pushed from its nest in order to learn how to fly, Alice's abandonment has pushed me to new limits.
While Alice has been living it up in the lap of luxury, working on her bendy skills, I have been having solo adventures, meeting old friends, making new ones, and defying death at every turn.
Alice and I split up in Agra, with her going to Goa and me going to Pushkar. I took a bus from Agra to Pushkar and narrowly avoided an accidental trip to Delhi which would have added a handful of hours to the overall amount of travel to Rajastan (I didn't look at a map and thought that Delhi was where I wanted to make a connection to Pushkar but it would have meant going from Agra to Delhi and back again).
There wasn't much going on in Pushkar. It is mainly known for shopping and a camel festival, but I didn't shop and left town before the festival started because the cost of accommodation quadruples during the two week event. It was dusty and I sneezed a lot because of the mix of dirt in the air and the camels walking around in the streets. I met a really great guy from California named Peter who let me share a room with him for 3 nights so I could stay at the same guest house as Noy and Ira from Minali/Rishikesh.
In Pushkar there is a sacred and ancient lake associated with the legend of Shiva. I was given a handful of 'free' flowers to put in the lake for good luck, but when I went down to put them in I was grabbed my a Brahman who recited a blessing for me, my friends and family. He prayed to four different gods, asking for health and happiness for seven people. Afterward, he did some math and multiplied the number of people prayed for by the number of gods prayed to and told me I had to make a 'donation' of 3000 rupees (70 dollars). I told him I only had 300 rupees and he told me it wasn't possible to give so little. I was annoyed. It smacked of extortion combined with some old school Medieval absolution vending. The good thing about making a 'donation' at the lake temple was that afterward a string is tied to your wrist which indicates that you have made an offering - this string tells the many beggars on the street to leave you alone. I don't know if the string system is actually an effective deterrent because the string was tied so loosely that it came off the next day and I received plenty o' hassles...
The good karma from the lake actually carried forward because I nearly lost a silver spoon eagle ring (from Haida Gwaii) to a henna making gypsy, but in the end I got it back (my never ending faith in the goodness of people validated despite the nay saying of others)... I was walking in the market when I was grabbed by two women who started doing henna on my hand before I could say no. I figured "this is happening" and allowed them to drag me into a chai shop where they told me their life stories and covered me in swirls and squiggles. Despite my better judgment I allowed one of them to pull of my ring so that she could henna my middle finger. She slipped the ring onto her finger and I cringed anticipating some sort of problem. It quickly slipped my mind and off I went to meet up with people for breakfast. When I went to wash up before eating I realized that I left without the ring. The people I talked to on my way back to the market (to essentially find a needle in a hay stack) all assured me it was a scam and that the women are thieves etc... I didn't believe them because the women were so sweet, and hoped in my heart that it was all just a mistake. I looked and looked and after 30 minutes gave up the search. As soon as I gave up they appeared bright eyed and smiling. It seemed as though they were looking for me with the same enthusiasm with which I was looking for them. They gladly gave me my ring and I was touched my their inherent goodness. Yippee!
The only other interesting things that happened in Pushkar involve near death experiences. The first notable event was an earthquake that shook the city one night. I was asleep, but I spoke with people who said that things were really moving - but there didn't seem to be any death or destruction which is really lucky. The other nearly fatal story involves an Israeli pizza bread called a ziva. I had a ziva and went into anaphylactic shock. My throat closed up, my eyes and face puffed, I couldn't breath and I was super itchy all over my body. The Israelis I was hanging with immediately tapped into their army training and laid me out, elevated my feet, gave me a bunch of stuff to drink and went by motorbike to get some antihistamine pills from the pharmacy. I was better in no time, but it was really scary an totally lame. I asked for the ingredients in the ziva and there wasn't anything out of the ordinary so this may be an experience I'll have to repeat until I hone in on what it is I'm allergic to.
To sum up, I'm still alive, and doing fine without my old friend Bad Alice. I miss her, but know that she is off bending somewhere and that makes me happy because I know it makes her happy.
I'm lazing about on the beaches of Goa. Got here from Pushkar by train - 35 hours. Longest train ride of my life, but it went really quickly because I was traveling with great people. When we arrived in Arambol we rented an apartment overlooking the ocean for 5 bucks a person. It was a sweet pad with a humongous patio but I couldn't take anymore Hebrew and have settled into my own bamboo hut on the beach at the whopping price of 150 rupees a night - just over 3 dollars.
Sorry I didn't take any photos over the week. My camera was out of batteries and I am a lazy bastard. I've snapped a few photos here in Goa and will upload whenever I get sick of splashing around (yeah right...).
Comments?
xoxoxoox
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Taj to Goa
Dave and I have written every post together (me correcting his half French half English spelling and grammar and him making me less boring) so it's a little difficult to write this without him... but maybe you'd like to know what I've been doing?
First, the Taj Mahal. Unfortunately the sky wasn't clear- a combination of dust, pollution and post-Diwali fireworks- but we went anyway and took the required 5000 photos. Here are a few...
First, the Taj Mahal. Unfortunately the sky wasn't clear- a combination of dust, pollution and post-Diwali fireworks- but we went anyway and took the required 5000 photos. Here are a few...
So as you can see, we have seen the Taj Mahal.
After seeing the Taj, I left Dave sitting forlornly on his bed and began my long journey to Goa. I have been doing yoga off and on since I was about 14, and the idea to do a teacher training course had crossed my mind. However, I always put the idea away, thinking that I wasn't good enough, that there wasn't time to do a course, that I couldn't afford it or that I'd be a terrible teacher. Over the last few months though, Dave and I have been doing yoga whenever we can with lots of different teachers (some good, some named Dilip....) and Dave asked whether I had considered becoming a teacher. I explained my issues with the idea and he destroyed them all. So I was stuck- I wanted to do it, my reasons for not doing had been destroyed- I had to do it! I spent hours and hours googling places (whenever I would give up Dave would send me back to the computer to look more) and finally found a few places that looked good. Unfortunately, they were full (I guess people usually think about this more than a week before). However, fate intervened and the centre I liked the most emailed me to say they had a cancellation, the spot was mine if I wanted it. One plane, one rickshaw, two taxis, one train later and one night in the wrong hotel, I arrived at Ashiyana.
I've been here one week and so far, the experience has been incredible. I get up around 5:30 am to go running (stupid early I know, the sun isn't even up), then we have breathing exercises and meditation from 7-8 am, an asana or yoga class from 8-10 am, then we're given breakfast. The rest of the day is a series of classes in anatomy, learning to teach, different forms of meditation, philosophy and chanting. We're given a break after lunch for a couple hours, which most of us use to run to the beach to fry ourselves in the sun. The teachers are incredible, the food is great, the centre itself is beautiful... in other words, everything has dramatically improved since I ditched Dave.
This is the beach....
This is my super awesome roomate Renee with her dry wafer cookie...
That's all for now... I don't know where Dave is or what he's doing, last I heard he was taking a 30 hour train ride from Pushcar to Goa.
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