green hotel

Apparently when my alarm went off this morning at 4am I told my roommate it was Christmas and I was giving myself the Christmas present of skipping practice to go back to sleep. I don't remember any of that, all I remember is waking up to daylight and an empty flat. Tired bodies, stealth illnesses, and long weeks - enough with yoga-land, time for fun.

No practice tomorrow meant tonight was for eating so we headed to the Green Hotel to stuff ourselves silly. The Green Hotel is an old British empire-type hotel with expanses of green lawn dotted with wrought iron chairs. I've been looking forward to sitting there as dusk turned to night for ages, the calm of their gardens creating a bubble around the chaos of traffic and high pitched horns that waits on the other side of the bushes. It was perfect.

I was tempted to order a gimlet because that sounds like something one drinks at tea time in an English garden but I don't exactly know what that is and I don't take alcohol so I refrained. The only restraint I showed all night. One order of masala fries turned into three, banana pancakes mixed with palak paneer mixed with spring roles, one order of dessert turned to three with extra helpings of ice cream please; it was quite a scene. Surrounded by greenery, the cool monsoon breeze blowing, horns creating a symphony, enough sugar to keep me flying for days, enough laughter to feed my soul for weeks and my favourite rickshaw driver out of the hospital and back to showing me what genuine goodness feels like with every interaction. Life smiles.

Hotel, dinner and rickshaw pictures.