Bollywood Blues and the Spice(y) Island

Bollywood Blues

As some my have noted from my facebook.com “status updates” on the delicious state of my lower intestine, my last day in Mumbai was anything but Bollywood glam. Yes, India had decided to give me a farewell present. Terrible food poisoning. Here I had been bragging about my iron stomach and relished chugging down any type of street food. I wasn’t sure if that’s what finally caught up to me….or the fact that I ate the unusual my first night in Bombay---I steered away from the dodgy stands and treated myself to a 5 star course meal including sinful meat (chicken..it may be a while before anything red crosses my lips) and a sip of wine. The next morning I woke up in a cold sweat and knew I couldn’t part with my new best friend, loo (after "the loo"), for more than an hour or so. However, I was restless to see the city and stupidly decided to keep my city tour reservation. In-between all the Jain temples, Portuguese buildings, and artistic churches I made my guide take a few detours to the “shrine of the porcelain goddess.” Desperate, I decided to finally turn to my friend Cipro. The side effects listed on the pill bottle intrigued me:

Common side effects: Rash, vomiting, diarrhea, nausea. Wait? Aren't these they very symptoms this darn pill is supposed to take away??!!

Less Common side effects: Chills, depressions, suicidal thoughts...Oh no! Now if the stomach cramps didn't kill me the depression would! Hmmm. Great medicine. Go Bayer.

Any hopes to be discovered as a western blond bollywood star vanished…not sure there is a role for vomiting diarrhea girl who takes her own life.

Spicy Island

Thank God for Zanzibar! The fresh ocean breezes and warm grinning people quickly helped me recover (from those suicide urges, of course). Zanzibar is a beautiful collection of islands off the coast of Tanzania. I was on the main island in the old spice trading town of Stonetown. Zanzibar is the second largest exporter of spices, second only to India. Not bad for such a small place! I fell in love with the beaitful island and decided to highlight a few key learnings and experiences:



1. Mambo Jambo Hakuna Matata. I arrive in Zanzibar and quickly forget my ills. Laughing grinning Africans greet me with Mambo! Jambo! and lots of jokes. They all seem to love life even more than I do! I quickly discover that the island has no electricity. Oh, it must be the storms (naturally the rains follow me to any beach destination..par for the course..). "Oh no...the the power has been out for a week now. Dar Es Salaam has turned off the power to the island. Could be months..." They shrug and smile and laugh again. Oh. Apparently there was some issue with Zanzibar paying taxes or something. Hmmm...okay well I am adaptable. Hakuna Matata. No worries (I actually remembered this line from "The Lion King"). Afterall, there were a few generators around, right?...and I had a box of matches and exceptionally large pupils. I was prepared for Africa.



2. It's an Arab World. To say Zanzibar has an Arab influence is an understatement. The women wore traditional hijabs, arabic scripts lined the solid wood doors, and stores opened and closed around mosque hours. The Turquoise beaches would have to wait....I covered myself up and set out about town to learn the rich history of the island. One interesting tidbit: A sultan from Oman ruled the island for many years and is said to have personally led the international slave trade in the 1800s. I visited the old slave market and holding quarters. Sitting down the cramped suffocating confines gave a whole new feeling to the horrors that occurred just 150 years ago.



3. "Dr Livingston I presume?" Dr. Livingston was a famous Scottish missionary who traveled across Central and East Africa and spent a lot of time in Zanzibar. He did the usual missionary things, built churches, saved lives...oh just managed to convince the Sultan to END THE SLAVE TRADE. Minor things really. And what is my worldly contribution to Africa? Writing about diarrhea on my blog? Sigh...maybe i should volunteer after my safari....Anyway the famous quote came after Livingston was LOST for SIX YEARS somewhere in deep dark Africa and one of his fellow do-good friends had to come and find him. The endless search came to a..well...end when he was finally found in a tiny village and greeted with that famous quote. Well, I have been nearly lost myself. I wonder if Monica will greet me in Arusha with "Ms. Isern, I presume?"



4. International Tourists, I love ya! I met Dawn, a South African living in Dar Es Salaam, and Vishal, and Indian living in Dubai in my beautiful hotel (expat central it seemed). Both were on the island for business. They insisted the best cure for my shaky stomach was a strong drink. "Better kill that stuff with vodka!" And so the night started. We went to Mercury's (a bar named after Freddie Mercury of Queen, who was born on the island) and then to an amazing 5 star feast on a rooftop terrace under the stars. We ordered wine liberally, somebody got smokes, and we stared a raucous game of 'Truth or Dare', traumatizing everyone else in the restaurant. Yes we had a blast with the game you played at slumber parties when you were 13. We tried to refine it a bit. "Heidi, I dare you to stand on the table and talk about wine pairing!" However silly it may seem, I encourage all of you to play again sometime...with strangers. You would be surprised at what you learn....hidden fears, deep regrets, and lifelong loves, not to mention the names of a few emerging South African wines. We ate and drank till quite late and sadly I woke up with not only a slight hangover...but an upset stomach once again. Time for the bottle of suicidal thoughts...sigh.

Necessary Things For Himalayan Trekking

Melissa and Michelle and I have just returned from something everyone should experience at least once in their lives.....trekking in India's Himalayas. I had wanted to breathe some fresh air, see the snow capped peaks and start to prepare my limbs for the upcoming Kili trek (NEXT WEEK!!) but what I got was much more....memorable experiences and lessons....and a whole new ability to "rough it." I am looking forward to a 5 star retreat in Bombay before I head on over to Africa...but before I lose myself completely in the spa (must remove about 5 layers of dirt from my skin) I thought I would take a moment to share some things that all should have before embarking on a northern India trek.



1. Adaptability. Nothing is what it is. (how profound it that?) Up here, it isn't just the weather that changes at a drop of a hat. Everything is unpredictable. Indians do not need our western ideas of organization and promises. 'Oh, did I say you would have air mattresses in the tents? Oh....I think the other campers that came before you got them. Sorry. Ground for you." "Oh yes...I did say only 10 more kilometers 10 kilometers ago...but I think we still have 10 more to go. Almost there." "We must wait for 6 hours here because there is a landslide on the only route back...they should have it cleaned up...oh maybe 2 hours? Maybe 8 hours. You want tea while you wait?" Yes all these things were uttered by our guide numerous times. We slept in tents (without air mattresses), guest houses with burlap walls in sub freezing temperatures, and roadside hotels where the friendly Indian family next door (there were TWELVE in a room) shared all their food with us. We hiked in bright sunshine...but as soon as we stopped to put on suncream, the mist rolled in and were were rained on. We truged up and down paths crossing jagged rocks and piles of mule poo. We waited on the side of the road for hours for landslides to clear. And we became experts in patience as our guides gave us different options and parts to the trekking plane each day. One night, while huddling around a cooking fire to stay warm, we overheard one Indian trekker say in English..."I spent some time in Switzerland..you cannot believe it up there! They organize everything! Everything they say actually happens! It's so predictable and orderly!! And one amazing thing--I lost my wallet one day on the rain. They actually have a thing called 'Lost and found." Crazy! I went there...and you know what!? MY wallet was there!! People actually return things that do not belong to them! What a strange place!"




2. Ability to us the bathroom anywhere and then talk about the escapade with your mates. Mel and Mich and I spent about 30% of our time navigating possible toilet solutions in the northern forests. We spent another 30% of the time talking about what happened. Yes, yes we have reverted to 12 year old boys...for potty humour is hilarious up here. I am not sure that everyone understands India's toilet situation. In the case of rare outhouses....be prepared to find a decaying cubicle type structure with a hole in the ground...often times with various excrement left all over the floor. (I guess the hole is easy to miss??). Toilet paper is a foreign word so one must always trudge into the cubicle with a trusty roll stashed under the arm. Doors rarely close properly...and if they do, they shut out all light so you are crouching in blackness praying you don't drop the loo roll. Mushrooms may or may not grow around the walls. And cows wll naturally walk around outside as if trying to peer in. Ahh yes.....we have an ongoing competition for finding the worst toliet! Using the bathroom outside is far preferred,,,but well..we all know India's population density issue....and hiking in Yatra season doesn't leave alot of privacy on the trails. So you have a choice of doing a crouching dance in the middle of a disgusting mess...or braving the outdoors hoping a passing Sadhu doesn't catch you and decide to take a photo. Due to sensitive nose conditions, we preferred the latter...but are half expecting to find photos of ourselves on some bad website like "Pottyfetish.com" or "youthoughtthatsmallbushcoveredyour bum.com" We once tried not drinking water so we wouldn't have to deal with the issue...but well...not drinking and hiking 15 kilometers isn't really wise. Thank god for reduced modesty and hand sanitizer.



3. Fondness for the pilgrims. It is beautiful to watch the various pilgrims trudge up the hills, donned in their bright clothes and warm smiles. Indians have got to be some of the most generous and friendly people on earth. We were invited in to about every tea hut along the steep path....and crowded in with the other pilgrims to warm our hands by the fire and sip hot chai. One must forget their own unwashed body (and the definitely unwashed body of their hosts) and hug them and hold their hands as their affectionate culture requires.



4. Propensity to gorge yourself of chapattis. I have no idea why I thought I was going to lose wight in India. I remember my plan to "fatten" myself up in Vietnam for the inevitable fast I would be on here. Um...yeah. I think my longest fasting experience in my life lasted 2 hours. In India...probably 45 minutes. True, I have not eaten meat or had a drink in a month (sobriety is surprisingly fun...who would have thought?) but I have been stuffing myself on everything else. Indian food is damn GOOD! Wow---even the most filthy roadside hut in the middle of the mountains serves up a delicious medley of vegetarian delights. And chapattis--warm fire baked Indian bread-are served with everything. If I try to mathematically calculate the amount of Indian food (dahl, beans, veggie curries and chapatis) to western standards...I figure it's the equivalent of about 4 burritos per meal. (3-4 chapattis plus all the yummy curries inside). And then there iare the sancks! ALong the hill paths are huts that sell everything from "marsala chips" to samosas. When we are off the beaten path our guides offer us packaged sweets that we cannot refuse. Add three 4 burrito meals a day to little snacks every 2 hours....and well you have just a lot of darn good spicey food that would put meat on even Nicole Ritchi'es bones! M&M and I say every day that we are are going to "be good" and perhaps not have that extra biscuit with our chai or perhaps not take second helpings of date and paneer curry...but sure enough every day we out-eat ourselves again...setting new records for curry overindulgence. Our trekking guides watch us with amazement. As a aprting gift, our guide gave us not the standard prayer beads, or memento of the Himalayan mountain peaks, but rather a box of Choco Pies----a chocolate packaged snack that we devoured at every resting point on the hike.


5. Iron stomach. You do not need an iron stomach for the food (recall that we are all getting fat up here on the yummy cuisine) but rather for the windy roads the car takes to get you up the treacherous routes to the trekking spots. I do not know if it is the Karma /Darma thing or what...but Indians do not fear death. There are single lanes roads up the windy mountain paths and all drivers insist on taking them as fast as possible. A pathetic "honK' sounds as the car nears the blind turn...but not really to alert anyone they are coming (for it would be far too late to slow down) but rather to say "hi--prepare for a head on collision!"). It was so scary that we couldn't look ahead (or we would imagine what was coming around the turn) nor to the left side (for the cliff was about half a meter from the car and of cour there were no road barriers) nor down because the driving would make anyone carsick. The right side was also impossible to monitor. When oncoming traffic approached it managed to squeeze by us at light speed with maybe a centimeter to spare. My heart was in my mouth for most of the car journey. I practiced my yogi breathing technique, closed my eyes, and thought of pleasant things....like Apricot tarts....or chapattis.

So now filled filled with pleasant thoughts and most of the trekking grime washed from my body (oh yes....another necessity for Himalaya trekking is an arsenal of baby wipes) I will take a flight to Bombay's Bollywood....land of luxury and beauty. : ) Perhaps I'll be discovered as an emerging actress. Of course whoever "discovers" me will have to see through my hippy skirt and grimy Om t shirt....No why didn't I pack along my Jimmy Choos again???

Travel in the Yatra Season

I am in Rishakesh---finally up north close to the mountains. (It's still hot here though, of course). It's currently pilgrimage (yatra) season here so the town is filled with pilgriming Indians making offerings in various temples and chanting at sunset. Cows wonder the street aimlessly (I guess the sacred can be lazy) and old women, seasoned with travel, push their way through the crowds toward the temples. Men spit on the road (it seems this is a favorite pastime), and shared jeeps, overflowing with 10 person families speed by honking incessantly. Sadhus (wandering holy men) beg for change along the steps and just about everyone is offering to sell us something from scarves to deep fried mystery Veggie somethings. The spirit and liveliness is beautiful...but India is a crowded place without any pilgrims...so it's also bit mad.


Rishakesh was made famous to foreigners by the Beatles, who journeyed up here to seek...um..."spirituality" in one of the many ashrams. It is now a complete new age center and gateway to Himalaya hiking treks. I am here with my former English ashram pals Michelle and Melissa. We are here for the yoga, trekking, but are a bit wary of the dreadlocked travelers offering us "special" lassis and "all night" chant sessions. However not all things seem like Burning Man. Last night we were up quite late in a cafe playing cards with some random travelers we met and indulging on this amazing chocolate dessert. I figure we cannot drink or eat meat in this area...so bring on the chocolate full force!



The journey here was anything but easy. Any travel in India is pure chaos. Nothing can be planned or anticipated. I met M&M (of course I nickname them after a chocolate candy) at Agra to see the Taj Mahal. The Taj, the massive white marble structure built for love was just as amazing as we had heard. But no lingering was allowed on our schedule. We saw the Taj at Sunrise, the Red Fort at late morning and were able to sneak in a dip at our (amazing and sinfully decadent) hotel pool before the challenging journey further north. We had 2 LONG train rides, one bus, and one bumpy Rickshaw awaiting us.


Train travel in India is not for the faint of heart. First of all, all trains are always booked...so you either have to be put on a waiting list for a seat and pray you'll get in, pay bribes to train officials, or hop aboard the cheapest class and squeeze in with the masses on the floor. Or all of the above. Trains are notoriously late, so being able to redo your plans completely to catch a connecting train is part of the program. And lastly, trains arrive as they please and where they please. There is no way of knowing where your train is expected to arrive. The station screens are always wrong so you must ask enough locals and go to the platform number that has been uttered the most times. Even then, it's often wrong. To catch our train from from Agra to Delhi, M&M and I noticed that the train was coming in two platforms down from the one were were told to stand at. "Ack--there's our Punjab Express train!" Without thinking we jumped over the massive tracks with the locals, risking death (isn't jumping over tracks illegal in the states?) and our belongings as we threw our bags up over the tall track walls hoping to retrieve them as we scrambled over. Not that anyone would want to steal weeks of my dirty laundry...We then rushed into the train, pouring sweat and sat down about 2 minutes before the train took off again.

But this was nothing. Our next train has similar issues (we changed platforms running like mad about 5 times trying to find our elusive train up north) and then managed to take part in a brawl in a bus for our third part of the journey. One particular Indian family decided to save seats for pratically everyone on the bus by putting their luggage in the seats. Since buses get so crowded people actually PASS THEIR CHILDREN IN THROUGH THE WINDOW, saving seats isn't really feasible. M&M and i tried to diplomatically explain that the family needed to move their bags so we could get by and sit down before the roving masses were pushed in through the windows but they wouldn't budge. An impatient New Zealand we had befriended took charge and started a screaming match with the Indian woman. ("YOU are rude!" "No! YOU are rude.") Oh no--this was "Om Shanti" versus "Praise the Lord" all over again. We pretended not to know her. But didn't matter.....it was very much the westerners against the Indians....and we ended up taking the 2 hours bus ride standing up sandwiched between stacks of bags.

Dirty and exhausted, we treated ourselves to our favorite fruit juice mix upon arrival--Papaya, pineapple, banana, and mango...with a dash of milk. Our juice orders were starting ro resemble my long Starbucks order at home....

But honestly, the travel chaos...well it's all part of the journey, laughable now and worth any pain. (especially if we get treats afterward). This is India. It is crazy, unpredictable, and we love it!

Escape from the Ashram

Escape
My remaining days at Sivananda were blissful. My body was strong from yoga. My mind was still from constant meditation (well...ok, maybe not too constant as a flying chocolate bar seemed to invade my thoughts frequently) and my heart was full from peace and the joy of meeting so many wonderful people. Our collective glee was almost getting to be a bit much. I was waiting for us to hold hands and burst out in a Sanskrit version of "We are the World" or "Kubaya." Determined to not get any sappier than I already was I decided it was time to plot my departure and perhaps regain an once of cynicism....Happy yogi cynicism that is.

I left for a train headed to the Kerala backwaters, clueless as to what town I would get off on. I figured I would decide while aboard. 'Travel by gut' is my new way to go. As I was getting into the taxi to go to the train station, C, an ex stripper from Manchester decided to join me for a day or two. Always happy to have company, regardless of past occupations.




We ended up in Allepey, India's Venice with canals and rivers cutting through towns and lush forests. We hired a long skinny boat to cruise around, watch the backwaters village life, be mesmerized by the landscape, and see the sunset.

Over Worry--Hmm..Maybe I needed More time at the Ashram?
I again listened to the gut and decided to leave Allepey to head to Kochi-"God's won Country," a beautiful trading town with Portuguese heritage homes and spices everywhere. But as soon as I arrived at the Allepey train station from my rickshaw and got out to buy my ticket panic seized me. Where was my wallet?!! Oh now! I must have left my handbag back in the rickshaw, now driving away! I left my bags with C and darted off out to follow the rickshaw, cutting up my feet in the mad scamble out to the street. Watching my hot pursuit running in worn out flipflops, a kindly driver told me to hop aboard....and together we chased down, shouted at, and intercepted rickshaws along the train station road, looking for my lost handbag. After intercepted rickshaw #4 it dawned on me. In my attempts to consolidate my 24 or so bags, I had (perhaps) put my handbag INSIDE my large suitcase. Oh....it was very likey I did this. I had pulled an old "Heidi"...thinking I had lost something that was right beside me. How embarrasing. Hmm...I swiftly told the driver to go back to the station, my face red. Upon arrival the whole station came out to greet me. "Did you get your bag, ma'am?" "Should we file a police report for you?" "Are you okay with money?" "Why is your face beet red?" I sheepishly told them all was fine and shamefully went to retrieve my bag with the miracle handbag and wallet safely inside.

Why I love the Indians
I love the Indians. They are always so helpful and ready to make you feel at home in their country. I love the way their heads bob from side to side as they speak in their smiling tone. Their bobbing shake indicates yes (although it looks like no) which is at first confusing but in time quite pleasant. I love how they are eager to explain their culture, their country's progress, and their dreams. I love the beauty of the Indian women. No matter how poor or how dire the village they are from, they always don their gorgeous jewel toned saris that float at their feet. Their thick black hair is always worn in a long braid down their back, glistening with coconut oil. Hmmm....I look down at my stained hiking pants and sweaty Om t shirt and feel inadequate. Just the excuse I need to start shopping again! : )

Future Plans

SO in today's "travel my gut" process, I will take a ferry to go to a nearby secluded beach with some fun new travelers I met last night at a dance performance. (typical Indian love story--sister of demon falls in love with god...demon sister tempts god, god gets mad at evil women's temptations and chops off her breasts).

And tomorrow....I will leave my new friends and headed up north to the Taj Majal (meeting some other friends there) and then perhaps to Rishakesh-a spirtual town at the base of the Himalayas. But who knows...plans change as quickly as I down mango lassis. Maybe I'll end up at another Ashram. For those that actually read news besides Brittany's latest head shaving and are worried about the Japiur terrorist bombings, please rest assured I will be fine. Terrorists win if we are paralyzed by fear and halt all our plans. We can never predict a tsunami, bombing, or really rainy weather while in Austrlia, and must march on. Plus with extra security up noth it's probably the safest time to travel in india! : )

Extracirricular Ashram Activities

Things are moving nicely along in the ashram...A major breakthrough--I have learned to not be competitive! (well in asana class. I cannot be--the other yogis in my class comprise of an ex gymnist, an ex dancer, and a CURRENT acrobat for Cirque Du Soleil...yes. Mmm hmmm. And so I am fine with remaining the er 'class project").

Inbetween the asanas, chanting, and eating with the hands, we actually DO get some free time. Ashram doesn't have as rigid a schedule as it may appear (although we do have to ask permission to leave the premises) and many extra activites are available.

I will list a few of these activities here:


1. "Silent" walks. There have been two silent walks so far that replace meditation. The experiences couldn't have been more different. On Sundays we wake up at 4.45 am to see the sunrise and mediate on the mountain near our ashram. Its beautiful, the air is clear, and people sing with hearts full. We have some amazing singers among us. Compare this to the Wednesday night Lake walk. Unbeknowst to us, the town was having some christian revival during the same time as our night walk. Indian Revival style is something else...oh those southern Baptist have a long way to go. Indians may not have money for food, but they do for speakers. For miles outside of the revival podium, speakers were positioned through the forest to blast the words "praise the lord. hallelujah!" and some 10 syllable Indian gibberish. People lined up along the street to wave their arms in unison. Our meditation spot was occupied by the Christan revival leader herself, so our confused walk leaders just had us sit down in a parking lot near the lake, and encouraged us to try to chant our meek Hindu words ("OM") over blaring 'Praise the Lords'. I felt a competition brewing... "OM!" "Praise the Lord!" "OM!" "Praise the Lord!" Then mad chanting started. "Om namo narayanaya..." To make matters worse, our chant leader was so bad and off key no one knew what to do so everyone just sang their own chants to their own beat. All the good singers seemed to have left. It was truly a frightful experience. I am putting this into the suggestion box 'chant leaders must audition to lead the group. Off key chant leaders make us want to join the Christian revival group.')


2. Neti. Yesterday instead of yoga we learned to clean the nose. 0kay--I was fine with pouring a little salt water into one nostril and let it drain out the other (weird but doable)...but we were asked to do the 'catheter up the nose out the mouth thing'. For those not familiar with India nostril clearing practices...people put a tube UP their nose, yes all the way.....and then grab it at the back of their throat and pull it OUT their mouth. Good times. After watching a few brave Germans gag on the tube, I declined to try this. I guess we learn purging next week. Yeah.....I think I may leave before this.

3. Aryuvedic massage. As I mentioned earlier I used one of my free hours to try aryuvedic massage. My brother was already alarmed with my mention of "areola rub" (he is afraid what the "new" Heidi may be into) so I will keep this simple. You enter a small dark room. The massage therapist instructs you to COMPLETELY disrobe. You then sit in a chair totally naked. She then pours oil down your head. It slightly stinks...naturally. You then lie down on a board while she gently rubs oil into EVERY body part. I would be more specific but we do not want this on the wrong website. It was...er...akward. After you are rolling around in oil like an eel, the "masseuse" (she doesn't really massage--she just spreads oil) takes a little tiny tube from a boiling pot of water and steams you...all over. Lovely. It is 100 degrees outside and now you are getting steamed. After the steam you are ushered into a shower where you are instructed to rub the oil off yourself with a chickpea paste. Yes, I took a garbanzo bean bath. I lef the room greasy and with chickpea remnants all over me legs. I smelled like a salad.

4. Pursuing the hot yogi. I think a few of us women include this in our daily practice. 'Oh your karma yoga is to clean toilets? Why, I LOVE cleaning toilets! Why don't I come and help you!!' I see him again under a tree reading "How to be Pure." We chat. "But of course eating meat is disgusting. Besides a few filet mignons now an then I don't eat much. Did I mention I was a vegetarian for 14 months...so perhaps I was 19, but I really liked not eating cow for those 14 months."

5. Beach trips. Every Friday we have off (well, after our morning meditation--that is NOT optional--they even take attendance). Happy to escape, I convinced a Israeli bartender, a Singaporean therapist, and a Swiss banker to join me to Varkala, a beach town with dramatic red cliffs that drop into the ocean and the most amazing fruit smoothies! We all did a bit of body surfing, got pedicures and ate taboo foods (garlic and fish) and felt utterly indulgent. A perfect day!

See, ashram life ain't so bad afterall!!

Ashram Life

Okay. So I am not really being very silent here. (are you surprised?). I have totally broken my own rules and have let my mind wander, laughed out loud in mediation class (not my fault, this funny irish guy was mocking the chanting), and of course, made heaps of friends. Despite all this, inner peace is coming along quite nicely…… : )

Oleksiy, a Ukrainian ex banker now well experienced in yogi life, refers to the Sivananda ashram as the “club med” of ashrams. In the large complex are gorgeous palm trees, trimmed hedges, small temples, and shiny happy people everywhere. People come from all over the world to dedicate a few weeks of their world wide vacation to find themselves. But thankfully, only a few of the people here are the traditional tree hugging hairy armpit new age type (reminiscent of my “mediation through movement” experience in Bali -see http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/21666.html). Most people were just like me..a curious traveler who wants to know what the ashram life is all about.

It’s hard to explain all that goes on here but I will do my best my giving you “A day in the life of...”

5:20am: Wake up Bells. Oh God, ack...Is this an ungodly hour or godly? It’s still dark out and I felt like I only slept two minutes again. I stretch and get up. Whatever girl was supposed to share a room with me never showed up so my only roommate is a small lizard I have named Siva. He’s great company and never hogs the bathroom.

6:00am: Satsang (Mediation and chanting. Welcome to my personal hell. Legs crossed I try to focus the mind…..ohh…...there she goes…..slow down...come back…crap we are only 10 minutes into it and my left leg is cramping. Now it fell asleep..great...now it’s in the other leg. Hmm...will anyone notice if I shift slightly? I secretly half open my eyes...how is everyone else so still?! I try to focus again...breathe breathe..don’t think about the new hot yogi that just arrived...of course now that’s all I think about. After 30 minutes of silence the chanting starts. Some of the chant leaders sing so beautifully I get chills. Others are tone deaf. (Theyr eally shouldn;t be allowed to sing, but you know the ashram is "inclusive.") Regardless of any wincing, I echo their words in unison with the group. I can now sing words like “Purnamevashishyate” and “Trayambakam” without wondering why Hindus prefer words with at least 4-5 syllables.

8:00am Asana (yoga poses). There are two classes—beginner and intermediate. Naturally I am intermediate, right? I mean I have done a few classes at home. On the first day I wander into the class a bit late (chatting with some new English friends) and notice with alarm that no one appears to be my version of intermediate! They are all doing strange poses in the names of exotic creatures I have not even heard of (plumed pangolin, anyone?) and seeming to balance on their tongues. Sigh. One of the helpers encourages me to “at least” try a "measly" headstand. “It will only take you a few days to get it", he says. I attempt. He quickly changes his mind, "Hmm..or for you...perhaps a week.” I have become the class project.

10:00am Meal. Okay—so there are two meals a day. There isn’t a distinction between breakfast or lunch. They are similar. Rice or dhosa, vegetable curry (2-3 kinds per meal), salad, chutney, yogurt. The tricky part is not the food (it’s actually really good), it’s the act of eating the meal. We sit on the ground on mats cross legged. We have no silverware. In hindu culture you only eat with your right hand. For those that know me, you understand that I have NO hand eye coordination. So imagine me sitting with both legs (asleep) underneath me, trying to scoop curry and yogurt in my right hand without spilling all over myself. Yup. Good times. I think they don’t allow us spoons because the ashram swajmis need some entertainment. That would be me and the poor left handers.

11:00am Karma Yoga or selfless service. Everyone is given different jobs to do to keep the ashram running. Hindus (or just good people) should practice karma yoga in everyday life..giving selflessly without thinking of reward. Hmm...I kindof feel that listening to some of the off key chanters is doing karma yoga but I am given a task anyway.

12:30 Asana coaching. An optional class for help with certain postures. The coaching there moved me from headstand to scorpion in days. I think there is something magical here....all the positive energy makes anything possible. (So maybe the new hot yogi will decide NOT to dedicate his life to celibacy?? Hmmm.....).

1:30 Tea time. It’s chai! Yummy yummy warm sugary sweet chai. We all sit around chatting about our travels and interesting aryuvedic massage experiences (this will have to be a separate post--it involves an Areola rub down).

2:00pm Lecture. We learn about love and happiness and devotion and of course must chant some more. “Om namo narayanaya…..” This chant is permanantly stuck in everyone's head in the ashram. I think my little lizard Siva is even singing it.

3:30pm Asana class again. My stomach turned soft from Vietnam mystery meat starts to harden again. 4-5 hours of yoga a day does wonders. As I no longer worry about poses, I pick up another problem. A stinky smell. Now, I do not want to name names here (or country of origin) but some people really do not think hygiene is important. In the southern Indian heat I shower 2-3 times a day. However it’s only required to bathe once a week before our temple ceremony. That means if you wanted to be a Peppy Le Pew...you could get away with only 1 shower a week. Monsieur Peppy seems insistent on sitting by me in Asana class. I have such a hard time maintaining balance with the stale smell coming into my nostrils. Sigh. This must be another version of karma yoga (selfish service #3).

6:00 Meal. More vegetables and rice (repeat of breakfast that they tried to make look different by adding a papadum. Not fooling me...) and severe concentration trying not to spill on my newly purchased “om” t shirt..I accidently bend over to far and flash a swajami sitting behind me my pink underwear. I get reprimanded. My friends to the side of me laugh out their rice.

8:00 Satsang. It’s really not fair to have two hells in one day (especially since we start EVERY activity with chanting and silence). I resume my dedication to not think about any of the things I really want to think about. Ho hum ho hum...not thinking....not thinking....but chocolate would be really nice right now....

10:30 Lights out. Just another day....