When it comes to the people that enter my life, for however long a period, I don't believe in coincidences. Some carry lessons, others perhaps unresolved business, and there are some where I think it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with what I can offer them. Other times, though, it's completely different. These are the times where, when meeting someone for the first time, I've had a flash of instant recognition and I think that these people are in my life because they're absolutely supposed to be - I already know them.
I. is one of the latter. He and I were friends before we even met and I knew him before I actually knew him. I remember the mornings in the coffee shop, before our first conversation, wondering about this elderly, gentle looking man with his shock of white hair and friendly blue eyes. I knew he was someone.
Now that we've become friends, its strange just how alike we are. Separated by several decades, generational influences, gender, and where we are in our lives it's amazing what a kindred spirit I've found in him. This is why, despite the occasional comment that makes me uncomfortable, I'm glad to have him in my life.
We missed each other last Saturday for our usual coffee catch up. I was early and he was late. On Thursday I received a letter attached to a page from Saturday's newspaper. The newspaper was complete save for a ragged hole where the Capricorn horoscope had once been. It was my paper, left behind on the coffee shop table. I. must have arrived after me, nabbed the paper and, when he got to the horoscope page realized who the original owner of the paper was. Me.
My first reaction was discomfort that someone was able to reconstruct my Saturday morning with such accuracy, that someone would know me so well. It felt intrusive. Then I read the story I. had written about the experience and attached to the newspaper and I had to laugh. Here's his story:
On Saturday morning he picks up the Weekend Review section of the Globe and Mail laying on one of the tables. Later, casually leafing through it to the Horoscope page he comes up on a hole in the paper and smiles, he can picture what has happened and why that hole is there...
She came up the stairs wearing her black coat, carrying her soy latte with the Globe and Mail clutched to her chest. She picks out a sunny table with a soft chair that she can comfortably fold herself into, legs crossed beneath her. She sets down her latte, takes off her coat and is wearing a light blue turtle neck sweater; she pauses - thinks the place is a bit cold but can't read in her coat - and sits down, sliding off her heavy boots and folding herself into the chair. Sitting very upright, head held high, feet crossed under her, she lays out the paper on her lap to read. With a deep, silent intensity she turns the pages, pausing occasionally to read something that catches her attention. Something on one page catches her attention; the horoscope for that day seems to awaken in her mind some way of bringing order to the clutter in her days. Some way of creating a path through: yoga, India, work day clutter, what about the job?, the masters essay due very soon, should I do the PhD?, family to see in Burlington...
She reaches over with her left hand and rips the newspaper page across the grain, leaving an uneven hole where her horoscope for January 22, 2006 had been. She reaches over and tucks it into her writing book before shrugging on her black coat and preparing to go, leaving the paper behind on the table.
Later in the day, an old guy picks up the newspaper but doesn't get a chance to read it for a couple of days. When he does, he sees the hole in the horoscope. With a warm smile, he thinks about a young woman he knows, about how she looks curled up in her chair, and how she ripped that hole in the newspaper. How nice, how very, very nice. Thanks from I.
I laughed first, because it reminded me of something I would have written in the same circumstances and, second, because he was absolutely right - blue turtleneck and all.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Thursday, January 26, 2006
laughing all the way
I don't often post about my practice so here's an update: it kills, I kill, everything kills.
That area where the hamstring joins the gluteous is gone on both sides making things like walking, climbing stairs, and sitting very painful. The only activity that doesn't cause pain is taking a bath and, so far, work has been very unreasonable regarding my request for a jacuzzi. Something about crossing client/counsellor boundries.
Although yoga has become a perverse exercise to explore just how much pain I can stand, the great thing is that it's brought about a release that all of my conscious efforts and intentions never could. Practice has become such fun, joyful at times because I've completely let go. I had to - it hurts to damn much. Can't touch the toes today? Ah, they'll be there tomorrow. Crawl back instead of jump back? Sure, that works too.
So much fun. Lots of laughing.
Today as my teacher was assisting me in dropbacks I noticed her shirt for the first time: a picture of Pattabhi Jois with the words 'BAD LADY' emblazed across the top and I completely lost it. Like I needed the help getting the giggles...
That area where the hamstring joins the gluteous is gone on both sides making things like walking, climbing stairs, and sitting very painful. The only activity that doesn't cause pain is taking a bath and, so far, work has been very unreasonable regarding my request for a jacuzzi. Something about crossing client/counsellor boundries.
Although yoga has become a perverse exercise to explore just how much pain I can stand, the great thing is that it's brought about a release that all of my conscious efforts and intentions never could. Practice has become such fun, joyful at times because I've completely let go. I had to - it hurts to damn much. Can't touch the toes today? Ah, they'll be there tomorrow. Crawl back instead of jump back? Sure, that works too.
So much fun. Lots of laughing.
Today as my teacher was assisting me in dropbacks I noticed her shirt for the first time: a picture of Pattabhi Jois with the words 'BAD LADY' emblazed across the top and I completely lost it. Like I needed the help getting the giggles...
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
hmph...
The bad guys won the election.
Quiet, liberal minded, professional female free to a good country (at least for the next 4 years)
Quiet, liberal minded, professional female free to a good country (at least for the next 4 years)
Saturday, January 21, 2006
all in the perspective
You know those people who refer to household tasks as 'relaxing' or 'meditative'? I've always figured them to be liars. Maybe not liars in a deliberate sense but if you identify ironing as a way to relax then, never mind the rest of us, you're lying to yourself.
I can think of a million different ways to relax, none of them involve cleaning. Ironing, in particular, holds high honours on my list of 'things not to do' and over the years I've avoided buying clothes that require ironing - who needs demanding clothes? I kind of forgot about this while I was in India and bought a ton of wall hangings, scarves, and kurtas that have been calling out to me all week for a good wash and iron.
I finally answered their call today and, as I ironed, I thought about the 'iron guy' in India. He trolls the street with his wooden cart and, when summoned, does the ironing on the street outside the gates of the house using an iron heated by hot coals, wife and child keeping time beside the cart. Yeah. Kind of made my ironing experience this morning with my coffee at hand, head bopping in time to my music, and a view outside where big, fluffy snowflakes created a winter wonderland seem pretty bearable.
I can think of a million different ways to relax, none of them involve cleaning. Ironing, in particular, holds high honours on my list of 'things not to do' and over the years I've avoided buying clothes that require ironing - who needs demanding clothes? I kind of forgot about this while I was in India and bought a ton of wall hangings, scarves, and kurtas that have been calling out to me all week for a good wash and iron.
I finally answered their call today and, as I ironed, I thought about the 'iron guy' in India. He trolls the street with his wooden cart and, when summoned, does the ironing on the street outside the gates of the house using an iron heated by hot coals, wife and child keeping time beside the cart. Yeah. Kind of made my ironing experience this morning with my coffee at hand, head bopping in time to my music, and a view outside where big, fluffy snowflakes created a winter wonderland seem pretty bearable.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
wherever i go, there i am
At the end of my practice today I mentioned to my teacher how different the experience of practicing here is from practicing in Mysore by commenting that here, everything hurts. As soon as I said it I realized that I really did mean everything and I wanted to cry. Home has habits, responsibilities, expectations and challenges - not bad things just very, very present. It's at home that my monkey mind comes out to play. Two ridiculously painful injuries appeared the day after my first home practice, my driste is off, focus gone, energy low; I feel like I've taken a beautiful symphony and turned it into angry thrash.
Still, that's all part of the beauty of the practice. Today's savasana was a gorgeous death, a chance to let go of the morning's frustrations and I did. I know that tomorrow will very likely be a completely different practice but, boy, was today ever one of those days.
Still, that's all part of the beauty of the practice. Today's savasana was a gorgeous death, a chance to let go of the morning's frustrations and I did. I know that tomorrow will very likely be a completely different practice but, boy, was today ever one of those days.
Monday, January 16, 2006
i'm the bear
First day back at work today. That's a good thing, I really like what I do.
I was excited to see so many familiar names in my appointment calendar. When I changed organizations a year ago one of the things that I missed most was the loss of continuity that comes from working with students from first year right through to graduate school. After a year in my current position I've had the opportunity to form relationships with the students I see: formerly scared first year students are returning as 'seen it all before' second years, I received Christmas cards from the most unexpected students, and alumni are coming back to let me know how they've fared. It's an honour to be let into their lives whether I see them once a month or once a year.
Which may make the rest of this post seem pretty confusing because as much as I love my job, my friends, my home - life in general - it's started to feel a bit small. This isn't new, this feeling has been following me for well over a year, what is new is the strength behind it. I feel like my elbows are bumping up against the walls of my life and that it's time to blow the doors wide open and see what enters. Scary because whatever changes I make will be based on intuition alone, at a purely rational level there's no reason at all to change anything, if it ain't broke, don't fix it and all that. What began as a vague inkling has developed into an all-encompassing drumbeat that won't be ignored. So, I've accepted that I'll be making some changes and moved from being scared by the idea to really exited. I'm giving myself a bit of time to let the ideas settle and become more comfortable with my plans.
Today, work offered some help with this: there's one part of my job that I find mind-numbingly boring, that provides minimal challenge, that I think is a poor use of my time and that I'm surprised is even in my job description. I returned from holidays to find that it's been put into my calendar for 10 hours a week through to the end of January. Talk about poking the bear in the zoo.....
I was excited to see so many familiar names in my appointment calendar. When I changed organizations a year ago one of the things that I missed most was the loss of continuity that comes from working with students from first year right through to graduate school. After a year in my current position I've had the opportunity to form relationships with the students I see: formerly scared first year students are returning as 'seen it all before' second years, I received Christmas cards from the most unexpected students, and alumni are coming back to let me know how they've fared. It's an honour to be let into their lives whether I see them once a month or once a year.
Which may make the rest of this post seem pretty confusing because as much as I love my job, my friends, my home - life in general - it's started to feel a bit small. This isn't new, this feeling has been following me for well over a year, what is new is the strength behind it. I feel like my elbows are bumping up against the walls of my life and that it's time to blow the doors wide open and see what enters. Scary because whatever changes I make will be based on intuition alone, at a purely rational level there's no reason at all to change anything, if it ain't broke, don't fix it and all that. What began as a vague inkling has developed into an all-encompassing drumbeat that won't be ignored. So, I've accepted that I'll be making some changes and moved from being scared by the idea to really exited. I'm giving myself a bit of time to let the ideas settle and become more comfortable with my plans.
Today, work offered some help with this: there's one part of my job that I find mind-numbingly boring, that provides minimal challenge, that I think is a poor use of my time and that I'm surprised is even in my job description. I returned from holidays to find that it's been put into my calendar for 10 hours a week through to the end of January. Talk about poking the bear in the zoo.....
Saturday, January 14, 2006
pictures
My photographic ability is limited to point-and-click (see links to Mikko's site in earlier posts for some gorgeous pictures) but for those who've asked, here's a link to some of mine...
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bekasanahh/sets/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bekasanahh/sets/
Thursday, January 12, 2006
home
This morning I brushed my teeth with tap water and, when I realized what I was doing, winced and cursed inwardly, now I was going to get sick. That was before I remembered that I was home. I think that's the way it's going to go, this reintegration to life in Toronto, small, inane reminders catching me by surprise.
It's good to be home and surprisingly hard to admit it to others because, as I've noticed, the impression taken is that it wasn't good to be away. Not the case. My trip was perfect and it was wonderful to be in India but it's also wonderful to be here.
Last night I had fun rediscovering my apartment. It's big and cluttered. What do I do with so much stuff? I'd forgotten about how much I love my hardwood floors and the way I've placed my favourite picture so that it's the first thing I see when I wake up. I'd forgotten that my closet door swings open to block the entrance to my bedroom and walked smack into it a few times last night. I'd forgotten that my pillow and quilt are the closest thing I can imagine to sleeping on a cloud, this my 1year old neighbour gave me ample time to remember by waking me up with his shrieking many, many times last night. I'd hoped he'd outgrow that habit while I was away, not so.
On my way to yoga this morning I passed by the Inglis sign which, to me, is one of Toronto's best kept secrets. Placed along the highway, it tends to get lost in the visual assault of the other advertisements but the Inglis sign is different in that every day it sports a different quote. Today's quote was "Happiness is where you find it, not always where you seek it". I loved that this set the tone for my first day home. This was an important trip on many levels but impossible to discuss just yet. I expect that I'll process the experience slowly and I'm looking forward to being quiet and watching.
It's good to be home and surprisingly hard to admit it to others because, as I've noticed, the impression taken is that it wasn't good to be away. Not the case. My trip was perfect and it was wonderful to be in India but it's also wonderful to be here.
Last night I had fun rediscovering my apartment. It's big and cluttered. What do I do with so much stuff? I'd forgotten about how much I love my hardwood floors and the way I've placed my favourite picture so that it's the first thing I see when I wake up. I'd forgotten that my closet door swings open to block the entrance to my bedroom and walked smack into it a few times last night. I'd forgotten that my pillow and quilt are the closest thing I can imagine to sleeping on a cloud, this my 1year old neighbour gave me ample time to remember by waking me up with his shrieking many, many times last night. I'd hoped he'd outgrow that habit while I was away, not so.
On my way to yoga this morning I passed by the Inglis sign which, to me, is one of Toronto's best kept secrets. Placed along the highway, it tends to get lost in the visual assault of the other advertisements but the Inglis sign is different in that every day it sports a different quote. Today's quote was "Happiness is where you find it, not always where you seek it". I loved that this set the tone for my first day home. This was an important trip on many levels but impossible to discuss just yet. I expect that I'll process the experience slowly and I'm looking forward to being quiet and watching.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
stats
from the last 24 hours:
total hours spent in travel - 28
hours spent in a plane - 20
hours spent waiting in airports - 8
countries visited - 3
inflight movies watched - 6 and a bit
airplane meals ingested - 5
coffees nursed - 5
hours slept - 4
fantastic family members that surprised me at the airport - 1 :)
am i really home?
total hours spent in travel - 28
hours spent in a plane - 20
hours spent waiting in airports - 8
countries visited - 3
inflight movies watched - 6 and a bit
airplane meals ingested - 5
coffees nursed - 5
hours slept - 4
fantastic family members that surprised me at the airport - 1 :)
am i really home?
Sunday, January 8, 2006
feeling human again
I celebrated my first day of non-sickness by returning to yoga for the first time in a couple of days. Sunday's are led classes and I had been hoping that Sharath would be leading the class since he was away through December and this would be my last chance to experience one of his classes but it was Guruji who is known for his warp speed practices. Today was no exception but it was no matter, it felt great to be back on my mat and there will be many more chances to practice with Sharath but not nearly as many with Guruji.
Afterwards I continued my non-sick celebration by going to the Metropole Hotel where we've discovered one of Mysore's best kept secrets: an all you can eat, swanky hotel buffet for only 100rs. French toast, chocopuff cereal, hash browns...all of the things that don't even cross my plate at home but were really, really great here after a month of idlly and samba.
Furthering my 'woo hoo, I'm not sick' celebration I walked. I wandered down Deveraj Road, the 'shopping road', through the market with its rows of flowers, brightly coloured powders, bangles, bindis, fruits, and calls from vendors "hello madam, what country?" I had hoped to walk home but succumbed to the pollution which makes it quite literally impossible to walk and called a rickshaw to take me home where I sat on my roof and listened to my new Bollywood CD's and ignored the fact that half of the Finnish contingent here in Mysore (and there are a LOT of them) were also spread out on my roof.
Tonight, off to see Mysore palace. Tomorrow, pack.
Afterwards I continued my non-sick celebration by going to the Metropole Hotel where we've discovered one of Mysore's best kept secrets: an all you can eat, swanky hotel buffet for only 100rs. French toast, chocopuff cereal, hash browns...all of the things that don't even cross my plate at home but were really, really great here after a month of idlly and samba.
Furthering my 'woo hoo, I'm not sick' celebration I walked. I wandered down Deveraj Road, the 'shopping road', through the market with its rows of flowers, brightly coloured powders, bangles, bindis, fruits, and calls from vendors "hello madam, what country?" I had hoped to walk home but succumbed to the pollution which makes it quite literally impossible to walk and called a rickshaw to take me home where I sat on my roof and listened to my new Bollywood CD's and ignored the fact that half of the Finnish contingent here in Mysore (and there are a LOT of them) were also spread out on my roof.
Tonight, off to see Mysore palace. Tomorrow, pack.
Saturday, January 7, 2006
quick update...
"There will be no extending of tickets madam" - so - I'll be home soon.
It's been busy here in Mysore doing all those things I didn't get a chance to do yet: an afternoon at the Southern Star pool, visits to the tailor, shopping for cheap yoga supplies, one last box of sweets...you can see how the days fill ;)
I've been sick these last 3 days, possibly my body's attempts to purge itself of the excesses of dairy, flour, ghee and sugar I've been overindulging in since arriving. For that reason, I'm keeping this short. I'm weak and sucky and it's been several hours since my last nap, I'm about done for the day.
Queasy stomach aside, much fun is being had (indiaspeak) and I'm disappointed not to be able to extend my stay longer. Still, I'm looking forward to seeing everyone, having a huge Juice for Life salad as my homecoming meal and I suspect I'll be back in Mysore in the very near future.
It's been busy here in Mysore doing all those things I didn't get a chance to do yet: an afternoon at the Southern Star pool, visits to the tailor, shopping for cheap yoga supplies, one last box of sweets...you can see how the days fill ;)
I've been sick these last 3 days, possibly my body's attempts to purge itself of the excesses of dairy, flour, ghee and sugar I've been overindulging in since arriving. For that reason, I'm keeping this short. I'm weak and sucky and it's been several hours since my last nap, I'm about done for the day.
Queasy stomach aside, much fun is being had (indiaspeak) and I'm disappointed not to be able to extend my stay longer. Still, I'm looking forward to seeing everyone, having a huge Juice for Life salad as my homecoming meal and I suspect I'll be back in Mysore in the very near future.
Friday, January 6, 2006
new pictures
Mikko has posted new beach pictures at:
http://mikkos.1g.fi/mysore/index.html
In other related news, I'm in the process of telephone negotiations to extend my plane ticket by a few days. I'll keep you posted...
http://mikkos.1g.fi/mysore/index.html
In other related news, I'm in the process of telephone negotiations to extend my plane ticket by a few days. I'll keep you posted...
Sunday, January 1, 2006
new and improved routine...
6am yoga on the roof where the sun shines through the orange plastic cover making the room glow warmly. Back to my hotel where the shy, softspoken manager always makes sure there's a cup of chai waiting for me on my veranda when I emerge from the shower. Drip drying on my veranda enjoying my tea while I watch the birds and slowly move myself from from my yoga trance to that state that lets me actually navigate the world.
Breakfast at Suprablahblahblah (short for unpronounceable name), always a fruit salad with curd and always eaten outside. As in Mysore, breakfast seems to last for hours. Probably because it does. Then to the beach. The water is warm and shallow, the waves perfect for bodysurfing, and the pull of the tide just strong enough to remind me who actually has control - it's not me. At some point in time, I leave the beach, sit for a few more hours on my veranda daydreaming, eat lunch and do other things but I can't actually think of what any of them are.
It's been an unbelievably relaxing week. The shopowners are friendly and have long memories, there are many other yogi's wandering about, and the town is small so walks are usually puncuated by several pauses for conversation. The ocean commands my attention, when I'm on the beach I can do nothing other than sit, mesmerized by the crashing waves. The warm sea breeze provides relief to the power of the sun. The conversations of those I'm with are often carried on in languages other than English freeing me to lazily daydream without fear of being rude.
It's going to be hard to leave but I've already extended my trip by 3 days longer than expected and head back to Mysore tonight.
Breakfast at Suprablahblahblah (short for unpronounceable name), always a fruit salad with curd and always eaten outside. As in Mysore, breakfast seems to last for hours. Probably because it does. Then to the beach. The water is warm and shallow, the waves perfect for bodysurfing, and the pull of the tide just strong enough to remind me who actually has control - it's not me. At some point in time, I leave the beach, sit for a few more hours on my veranda daydreaming, eat lunch and do other things but I can't actually think of what any of them are.
It's been an unbelievably relaxing week. The shopowners are friendly and have long memories, there are many other yogi's wandering about, and the town is small so walks are usually puncuated by several pauses for conversation. The ocean commands my attention, when I'm on the beach I can do nothing other than sit, mesmerized by the crashing waves. The warm sea breeze provides relief to the power of the sun. The conversations of those I'm with are often carried on in languages other than English freeing me to lazily daydream without fear of being rude.
It's going to be hard to leave but I've already extended my trip by 3 days longer than expected and head back to Mysore tonight.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Kovalam
Kovalam is a wonderful beach town fronted by a boardwalk that curves to follow the shape of the beach and backed by narrow dirt paths that wind their way labryinth-like between the stores, cafes, and guesthouses. I have yet to make my way to any destination following the same path twice, they're very confusing. Instead, I've accepted that the best approach is to allow myself to get lost, enjoy the walk, and know I'll end up where I need to be eventually - it's a small town.
The boardwalk is a confusion of sounds: the ocean, excited shouts from the bodysurfers, and calls of the vendors. I can purchase pretty much anything I'd need from my place on my towel: sunglasses, mangopapayapineapplefruitsalad, and umbrellas along with many things I don't need but, inexplicably, are available in abundance such as maps, drums, and glow sticks. Wandering the back paths I'm met with the now familiar refrain of store owners: hello, please come in...more colours inside...looking is free...ok, maybe tomorrow...sure, sure...see you later...
My hotel is away from the ocean, deep in the woods and faces a small body of water that I'd like to call a pond but, really, it's a swamp. Pond or swamp, it doesn't really matter as I've spent many happy hours on my balcony, chai in hand, looking at the floating flowers, tall trees and flying birds as I let myself get lost in the soothing white noise created by the sound of the ocean mixed with the rustle of the palm fronds and calls of the crows.
The boardwalk is a confusion of sounds: the ocean, excited shouts from the bodysurfers, and calls of the vendors. I can purchase pretty much anything I'd need from my place on my towel: sunglasses, mangopapayapineapplefruitsalad, and umbrellas along with many things I don't need but, inexplicably, are available in abundance such as maps, drums, and glow sticks. Wandering the back paths I'm met with the now familiar refrain of store owners: hello, please come in...more colours inside...looking is free...ok, maybe tomorrow...sure, sure...see you later...
My hotel is away from the ocean, deep in the woods and faces a small body of water that I'd like to call a pond but, really, it's a swamp. Pond or swamp, it doesn't really matter as I've spent many happy hours on my balcony, chai in hand, looking at the floating flowers, tall trees and flying birds as I let myself get lost in the soothing white noise created by the sound of the ocean mixed with the rustle of the palm fronds and calls of the crows.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Indian Christmas
My very Indian Christmas followed a busy schedule comprised of eating, good company and bad traffic - in that order.
The Christmas lunch at the Metropole Hotel on Christmas eve day was a huge buffet affair held outside under a large striped awening with low tables and chairs scattered about. Most people took advantage of the day to wear their 'Indian' clothes, the women dressed in saries, salwar kameers and kurtas and the men in outfits whose name escapes me but they looked great. There was an unbelievable amount of food including fresh bean salad, crisp vegetables and lettuce - oh my! I was so excited to see uncooked, un-curried, un-oiled vegetables that I pretty much ignored the rest (except, of course, for dessert of which I had thirds).
On the way home I stopped at Bombay Tiffany's, the best sweet store in Mysore, and picked up sweets, one box for my landlady and one for the party at 'party Louis''. Despite having the sweets in hand, my shyness took over and I wasn't sure about the party but I talked myself into going and I'm glad I did - I had a wonderful time. The house was covered in small christmas lights, the rooms, paths and roof were lit by candles and the rooftop covered in small gatherings of pillows where everyone sat and talked in between dancing. It was a great Christmas Eve.
Christmas day was driving day. The day to head 650km south to Kovallum - the beach. We had been told the drive would take 10 hours. It didn't. After driving 14 hours we still had 4 to go and our driver was getting tired. Actually, he was tired (understandably) after 12 hours but was opposed to stopping. After nervously watching him, the road, the other drivers, and our speed for an additional 2 hours, we insisted on stopping and got a hotel for the night. We arrived in Kovallum the next day making it about a 16 hour drive and a 26 hour journey.
It was a fun trip. Beautiful countryside of lush greens and bright bursts of flowers, people everywhere and masses of christmas lights with large paper stars decorating the entrance of each house. As if that weren't enough, the company was good and I learned to count to 9 in Finnish - sort of. Numbers 1 and 9 begin with wonky sounding 'u's so, really, I learned to count from 2-8 in Finnish.
I'm sure that's a phrase I will never again be able to use when describing how I spent my Christmas!
The Christmas lunch at the Metropole Hotel on Christmas eve day was a huge buffet affair held outside under a large striped awening with low tables and chairs scattered about. Most people took advantage of the day to wear their 'Indian' clothes, the women dressed in saries, salwar kameers and kurtas and the men in outfits whose name escapes me but they looked great. There was an unbelievable amount of food including fresh bean salad, crisp vegetables and lettuce - oh my! I was so excited to see uncooked, un-curried, un-oiled vegetables that I pretty much ignored the rest (except, of course, for dessert of which I had thirds).
On the way home I stopped at Bombay Tiffany's, the best sweet store in Mysore, and picked up sweets, one box for my landlady and one for the party at 'party Louis''. Despite having the sweets in hand, my shyness took over and I wasn't sure about the party but I talked myself into going and I'm glad I did - I had a wonderful time. The house was covered in small christmas lights, the rooms, paths and roof were lit by candles and the rooftop covered in small gatherings of pillows where everyone sat and talked in between dancing. It was a great Christmas Eve.
Christmas day was driving day. The day to head 650km south to Kovallum - the beach. We had been told the drive would take 10 hours. It didn't. After driving 14 hours we still had 4 to go and our driver was getting tired. Actually, he was tired (understandably) after 12 hours but was opposed to stopping. After nervously watching him, the road, the other drivers, and our speed for an additional 2 hours, we insisted on stopping and got a hotel for the night. We arrived in Kovallum the next day making it about a 16 hour drive and a 26 hour journey.
It was a fun trip. Beautiful countryside of lush greens and bright bursts of flowers, people everywhere and masses of christmas lights with large paper stars decorating the entrance of each house. As if that weren't enough, the company was good and I learned to count to 9 in Finnish - sort of. Numbers 1 and 9 begin with wonky sounding 'u's so, really, I learned to count from 2-8 in Finnish.
I'm sure that's a phrase I will never again be able to use when describing how I spent my Christmas!
Friday, December 23, 2005
Christmas
Hi everyone,
I wanted to send out my best wishes for a happy, restful Christmas.
The strangeness of being away for Christmas is alleviated by the fact that it's very easy to forget that it's Christmas at all in a few days. The shala is closing for the week and 5 of us have rented a van to head south to the beach. We leave Christmas day after practice and will be driving for ~10 hours so I may not have a chance to call home but I'll try.
Tomorrow is Saturday, no practice, and there are a few celebrations planned. 'Mr. Josef' is hosting a lunch at the Metropole, a swanky restaurant, and there is a party in the evening at 'party Louis'' place so I'll be well taken care of.
Most of my family is about to scatter about on various trips themselves. Safe travels to all of you. Ekah, my sister, sent out a message earlier commenting on how blessed we are and she's right. Relaxing moments and fun shopping trips aside, nothing is more evident from travelling here than the fact that we are blessed with our health, happiness and opportunities so, I wish you continued health and happiness over this Christmas season.
much love, b.
I wanted to send out my best wishes for a happy, restful Christmas.
The strangeness of being away for Christmas is alleviated by the fact that it's very easy to forget that it's Christmas at all in a few days. The shala is closing for the week and 5 of us have rented a van to head south to the beach. We leave Christmas day after practice and will be driving for ~10 hours so I may not have a chance to call home but I'll try.
Tomorrow is Saturday, no practice, and there are a few celebrations planned. 'Mr. Josef' is hosting a lunch at the Metropole, a swanky restaurant, and there is a party in the evening at 'party Louis'' place so I'll be well taken care of.
Most of my family is about to scatter about on various trips themselves. Safe travels to all of you. Ekah, my sister, sent out a message earlier commenting on how blessed we are and she's right. Relaxing moments and fun shopping trips aside, nothing is more evident from travelling here than the fact that we are blessed with our health, happiness and opportunities so, I wish you continued health and happiness over this Christmas season.
much love, b.
the dealer on the corner
I had heard about this man, the guy with the duffle bag, and had been looking for him without much luck until yesterday when my fortunes took a turn for the better. Leaving the shala after practice, I noticed a blue duffle bag sitting, unattended, on a low wall. I walked past slowly, making my interest obvious and, before long, a man separated himself from a larger group and walked over. "You are wanting something?" he asked. I replied in the affirmative but added that it depended what he had. He opened the duffle bag to show me his goods and I felt like a kid at Christmas.
Before me were all of the things I had heard about but didn't dare believe in case the rumours were nothing more than a Mysore urban myth: tofu, peanut butter, tahini, carrot cake, banana bread and sourdough bread. So excited, what to get? After much deliberation I selected a loaf of banana bread knowing that I was a goner, I'd be back for more.
Surprisingly, he didn't charge me. I guess even in the case of organic spreads and baked goods the dealer's rule of thumb holds fast: the first hit is free.
Before me were all of the things I had heard about but didn't dare believe in case the rumours were nothing more than a Mysore urban myth: tofu, peanut butter, tahini, carrot cake, banana bread and sourdough bread. So excited, what to get? After much deliberation I selected a loaf of banana bread knowing that I was a goner, I'd be back for more.
Surprisingly, he didn't charge me. I guess even in the case of organic spreads and baked goods the dealer's rule of thumb holds fast: the first hit is free.
my routine
Alarm goes off at 6am and, just like at home, I press snooze until 5 minutes before I have to leave my flat. Yoga, for me, begins at 7am. There's a bit of a hierarchy where the earlier your start, the more advanced your practice. 7 is the latest you can possibly start and I love it. I can do with the 'shame' of being a beginner for more time to sleep and a quieter space to practice. At the shala I sit quietly with the others, knees pulled up to my chest, the cloak of sleep still heavy about me, waiting for a spot to open up in the practice room. I like those moments: sitting in companiable silence, watching the others practice through the open door, daydreaming, waiting for shouts of 'one more' from inside to let me know a space has opened up.
My practice is long and slow, I usually finish around 8:30. Once home, I turn on the water geyser and sit, staring out the window while I wait for the water to heat up. It's a wonderful part of my day because there's literally nothing else I could possibly be doing, other than letting myself get lost in thought while I wait for hot water.
By 10am I'm finished and headed to Tina's or Kevin's for breakfast . Tina serves breakfast in her backyard at low tables flanked by cushions under the protection of brightly coloured blankets strung across tree branches. Kevin's is also outside at but at proper tables, no cover. If I feel like basking in the sun, I head to Kevins; if I feel like lounging about for a few hours I head to Tinas. Either way, breakfast usually takes me to 11:30 or so.
After that, it depends on the day. A few days ago I gave in to my inner sloth and sat on my roof reading a book all day; yesterday I headed into town to go to the place with the awesome coffee, let myself get lost for a few hours, and shop.
Whatever the afternoon brings, I usually plan to be done by 6pm so I have time for dinner before bed which is pretty early. It's lovely. I can't believe that we have hot water available 24/7 when it can be ready in only 15 minutes using much less energy. I can't believe that it takes me 1.5 hours to finish my tea and toast where at home I eat breakfast in the car while rushing to work. I can't believe there aren't any moments at home where I feel like the only possible thing I could literally be doing at any given moment is sitting, lost in thought. I'll have to make sure to create some of those when I return.
My practice is long and slow, I usually finish around 8:30. Once home, I turn on the water geyser and sit, staring out the window while I wait for the water to heat up. It's a wonderful part of my day because there's literally nothing else I could possibly be doing, other than letting myself get lost in thought while I wait for hot water.
By 10am I'm finished and headed to Tina's or Kevin's for breakfast . Tina serves breakfast in her backyard at low tables flanked by cushions under the protection of brightly coloured blankets strung across tree branches. Kevin's is also outside at but at proper tables, no cover. If I feel like basking in the sun, I head to Kevins; if I feel like lounging about for a few hours I head to Tinas. Either way, breakfast usually takes me to 11:30 or so.
After that, it depends on the day. A few days ago I gave in to my inner sloth and sat on my roof reading a book all day; yesterday I headed into town to go to the place with the awesome coffee, let myself get lost for a few hours, and shop.
Whatever the afternoon brings, I usually plan to be done by 6pm so I have time for dinner before bed which is pretty early. It's lovely. I can't believe that we have hot water available 24/7 when it can be ready in only 15 minutes using much less energy. I can't believe that it takes me 1.5 hours to finish my tea and toast where at home I eat breakfast in the car while rushing to work. I can't believe there aren't any moments at home where I feel like the only possible thing I could literally be doing at any given moment is sitting, lost in thought. I'll have to make sure to create some of those when I return.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
getting walked all over
Today I paid good money for someone to walk all over me! It was so great that it was all I could do to leave without making an appointment for the same tomorrow but I decided I should pace myself.
The 3 Sisters. I like their name and would have visited them for that alone but, really, I went because Harini, the youngest sister, is known through the yoga grapevine for her amazing massages. I'd been reading about her on various yoga sites for months before I even left Canada and knew that one of her massages had a definate place on my 'to do' list.
Harini learned to give a massage from her grandmother, who learned from her grandmother and so on and what's different about their massage is that it is given primarily using the feet. The room looks a bit dodgy: debris packed high along one wall, thatched roof with the sky peeking through, large red plastic mat in the middle with a rope suspended from the ceiling running its length. I knew what to expect from the various accounts I'd read before so I was well prepared for the room and the feet (I hate feet) but none of the descriptions I'd read mentioned the loincloth. That was a bit of a surprise.
After instructing me to strip, Harini tied a string around my waist and tore a strip of cotton from a large sheet which was secured, one end in the front and one in the back - kind of like a sumo wrestler. I suspect that it was meant more to protect my uptight Western sensitivities more than anything else because as soon as I lay, face down on the mat, off came the loincloth and I was left in all of my naked glory.
I didn't have too much time to wonder about the picture I presented because four hands began smoothing oil over me and, after that point, I really didn't care. I spent the next two hours naked as a jaybird and happy as a baby being pushed, prodded and suspended. It's amazing what exquisite pain was wrought by those two feet but the experience was fantastic and fueled my 'I'm not coming home' fire ;)
For those of you reading from India, the directions are a bit vague for first timers (lavender door near the Kavari Lodge), the contact number is 2522788
The 3 Sisters. I like their name and would have visited them for that alone but, really, I went because Harini, the youngest sister, is known through the yoga grapevine for her amazing massages. I'd been reading about her on various yoga sites for months before I even left Canada and knew that one of her massages had a definate place on my 'to do' list.
Harini learned to give a massage from her grandmother, who learned from her grandmother and so on and what's different about their massage is that it is given primarily using the feet. The room looks a bit dodgy: debris packed high along one wall, thatched roof with the sky peeking through, large red plastic mat in the middle with a rope suspended from the ceiling running its length. I knew what to expect from the various accounts I'd read before so I was well prepared for the room and the feet (I hate feet) but none of the descriptions I'd read mentioned the loincloth. That was a bit of a surprise.
After instructing me to strip, Harini tied a string around my waist and tore a strip of cotton from a large sheet which was secured, one end in the front and one in the back - kind of like a sumo wrestler. I suspect that it was meant more to protect my uptight Western sensitivities more than anything else because as soon as I lay, face down on the mat, off came the loincloth and I was left in all of my naked glory.
I didn't have too much time to wonder about the picture I presented because four hands began smoothing oil over me and, after that point, I really didn't care. I spent the next two hours naked as a jaybird and happy as a baby being pushed, prodded and suspended. It's amazing what exquisite pain was wrought by those two feet but the experience was fantastic and fueled my 'I'm not coming home' fire ;)
For those of you reading from India, the directions are a bit vague for first timers (lavender door near the Kavari Lodge), the contact number is 2522788
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