Not Suitable for Mealtimes

The Vivekananda Yoga university is located about 20 miles away from Bangalore, nestled in a quiet forest outside the city. I'm not sure how many students go here, it seems like a couple few thousand. They have programs for patients to heal from various ailments. It's a fantastic place for Indians. Indian lifestyle has become more sedentary than ever, kind of like ours, but without ubiquitous yoga classes (yep you read that right - very few Indians when asked will say they do yoga), gyms seem off-putting or an unnecessary expense; running on the sidewalks runs the risk of falling through a missing slat into the water/sewage gutter below and obviously the streets are too dangerous for jogging. Add to this the influx of western influences of processed foods ("Double Refined!" the sugar packets boast), quick and easy snacks and dinners, the super sugary sweet - and, ok I admit, delicious - chai ... you get the point. It adds up to issues like diabetes and obesity, and all the stuff that comes along with a sedentary lifestyle and improper diet. Hence, the yoga university... There are different sections or tracks for treatment : obesity, diabetes, neck and back pain, addiction, heart risk, etc. I was assigned to PPH, Promotion of Positive Health. Yes please! But the thing is, after seeing people in wheelchairs, people limping, people who brought caretakers, and one smiling woman who apparently tried to jump off a building last week - I realized, I'm ok, and I don't need to be here like everyone else does. I'm just here to check it out and to learn something, not because I need this care. My first day here, I didn't like it. My second day here, I tried to leave. The schedule starts with meditation at 530am and is packed till 830pm, with chanting, eye exercises, a variety of guided nap times (not what they call it), checking in with your Ayurvedic doctor, meal times, lectures, nature time, and "special techniques" which is their version of asana. On day one of special techniques, they rounded us up into a courtyard and showed us how to do the neti pot. A fair few Indians didn't know how to do it, to my surprise. We followed that with drinking copious amounts of saltwater and then rubbing our tongues to induce the regurgitation of said salt water. What a way to start the day, group vomiting! I was excused from this because of my neck issue, but I think it was also because it was an American neck issue. I won't complain about that. Then we drank more saltwater and walked around on our tip toes with our arms overhead. We were then advised to go to our rooms and "take rest" AKA go crap your brains out about six times before breakfast. Not quite the asana practice I signed up for, but it's "authentic" and "Indian". You know you're in India when you sit down for pranayama (breathing exercise) and the person behind you starts doing Kapalabati (breath of fire) and somehow simultaneously belching. Loudly. Someone across the room is farting. Also loudly. The hall was being cleaned as we were told to "focus deeply on the breath"; Our nostrils were tickled with a hybrid scent of heavy chemical cleaners and a nail salon. Aummmm.... During sessions, cell phones go off. People will leave the room to take the call. My yoga instructor actually left the class to take a call, twice. There's this one noise I hear about twenty times per day (not just while at the yoga center), I'm calling it a "prawk". It's the moment before someone hawks a loogie, that throaty fairly disgusting pre-hawk (hence "prawk") which happens anytime by anyone - yoga, mealtime, bedtime, you name it. After group emesis I guess anything is fair play. And guess what? I'm starting to really like it here. I found a decent sized roach in my bathroom and I am disappointed in myself that I was totally grossed out by it. My friend told me she saw a cobra across the way from her room last year, so I really can't complain. I now know which water filter is safe and which one has a hornets nest in it. There are monkeys here, always a plus! The guy who faked the Indian accent knows how to get things, very important contraband things, like chocolate bars!! I've loved the guided nap times and eye exercises. And I've made friends with lots of folks! Indians are curious and kind and welcoming and warm, pretty much everywhere you go, and so I'm starting to feel more at ease, more settled, more at home in this temporary home. Of course, tomorrow I leave :)

Indian experience + Western prices = Lessons learned

I now sit in my (private, one-bedroom, bath-with-hot-water-attached) room as a boy mops around me. When I arrived here, my understanding was that my room and board would cost 700 rupees per day, just over 10$. Pretty special deal hey? After taking a flight, staying at an Airbnb, and ubering (now also available in major Indian cities, you will only have to call your driver three times and shrug helplessly to two standers-by/stander-by's/maybe there should only ever be one stander-by...uh, give your phone to the standers and have them talk to the driver, and then walk a quarter mile down a busy road with your backpack to locate your driver. As India goes, it was a breeze), ubering then an hour and half to arrive and check in over a mere four hour process whereupon I learned that my stay would not be 700Rs per day, but 700$ per week. Oh that's ok, I thought, that's just like 10$ per day. Then my SAT math tutor personality kicked in (no wonder I'm not doing thatanymore) and realized it was 100$ per day. Oops. So much for my 10-15$ per day budget. I begged them to let me stay in the dorms, but they insisted I'd be more comfortable in my own room. I asked them to show me the dorms, and they did, thinking it would deter me, which it did not. They finally told me that they have a policy against allowing foreign nationals in the dorms and it was my choice to stay or go. And so, with many deep breaths and my budget blown, I stayed. It's very Indian here. There are a few thousand people on this campus, and I've met two other westerners. One is Nadia, from Khazakstan, which might not be very western but her English is great and we can make each other laugh, which is priceless. She's here for two years and told me that she got lice in the dorms and that I was lucky to have a single room. (No doubt, I am.) I also met this 25 year old American whose parents are Punjabi. He told me he faked an Indian accent upon arrival so he could pay the Indian price instead of the westerner's rate. He can indeed fake a great Indian accent, someone else who makes me laugh. Other than that, there are a lot of people staring at me wondering what I'm doing here. I am wondering the same thing. When I heard "yoga university", my heart soared. They will have talented and learned yoga instructors in yoga therapy, I can learn something! I am learning a lot, but not about yoga therapy. For alignment specifics, for the best asana classes, stay in the West. For breathing exercises and kriya yoga, for meditation and candle gazing, come to India. And then I remembered thinking before I left for Mother India that she was gonna kick my ass this time. She's kicking it right now. I shouldn't be here in a very practical sense (will explain next time). But in a sense that you are always in the perfect spot, as Hafiz says, "God has circled this spot on a map for you," I'm supposed to be here. I'm learning how to be calm and patient, I'm learning to release expectations. It's funny because it's the same advice I give to the people who come on my retreats to India, and I'm remembering in many ways what it feels like to be a newcomer to India...

Hoo! (Part 2)

I like to think I'm such an independent woman traveller, but in truth, without the kindness of these beautiful brown-skinned people, I would be screwed in this land. When I walked into the hotel, the manager, Mr. Joseph, immediately came out to shake my hand and I said somewhat helplessly, "I'm trying to make a phone call and I can't get through." He replied that he would help me as I explained to him my wishes to visit the Vivekananda yoga university in Bangalore. Pretty soon, he and the two staff members behind the desk were on their cell phones and the hotel phone calling the same five numbers I had already tried. With no answers. He explained to me that they had probably disconnected their land lines in favor of a cell phone, which is a trend in India now as land lines are costly. Understood. What the American in me did not understand is WHY you wouldn't update your website with your new phone number. It's a little bit harder to transact business aka spend your money on something in every country other than America. 'Murica. Convenience is so...convenient, though! Oh! So anyway, Mr Joseph the manager magically comes over to me with his personal cell phone and : it's ringing !! This lady on the other end of the line asks when I'd like to come and I say, how about Tuesday? She says, "Sorry Madame courses start only on Friday." Okay, Friday, yes, perfect. "How many days you want to stay Madame?" Oh I don't know, how about 5 days? "Courses run for seven days. You stay seven days." Right then, 7 days sounds wonderful. Can i register with you? "//laughs/scoffs// no Madame you must call this number""." I only had to try that number four times before I talked to a human. I was rather pleased with my efforts this far. The man asked me when I'd like to come and I said 10/23, to which he replied, "No madam this week is already full. You come 10/30 or 11/6". I splained that this was the ONLY POSSIBLE week for me, since I would not be in India after this point (which is half true, as I will be in north India after this point). After a brief but pregnant pause, he asked me "You want normal room, a/c room, or double room?" I don't really know he meant by "normal room", but I took it, gleefully! Finally, fruition! And so, I am on my way to Bangalore tomorrow to see what goes on at the Yoga University. I'd rather shadow the students than be one of their "yoga patients", but I'm delighted to be in the door. I am so excited in fact, that I keep rinding myself to let go of expectations. Maybe they will be super strict. Maybe I'll have too much free time and get bored, or a jam packed schedule and feel overwhelmed. Maybe it will be unclean. Maybe the food will be bad. Or maybe, just maybe, it will be exactly what I need. Oh, and the funny Mother India irony that goes with this story, is that going to this university has basically rendered my original plan - my only intention before I left - a moot point. I'm not gonna make it to the ashram of the man with the kind face. Sometimes the best laid plans ...

Woo! (Part 1)

When you're on the open road life is definitely less stressful :: but sometimes the road can be SO open, so if you're at all indecisive, like I am, this can lead to a lot of mulling over, ruminations, and eventually, if you really keep at it - stress ! I just didn't know what to do. Before I left for India I just knew I wanted to go to this ashram in Tiruvanamalai, Tamil Nadu (the state adjacent to Kerala, where I am now). It's called the Ramana Maharshi ashram and I want to go just because I just like the guy's face. There are a lot of photos of him in India, and while he is no more, in his picture he seems kind and childlike. Anyway, this was my only plan/intention. In recent weeks, chatting to Chechi and other travelers, I have added to the list visiting this yoga university in Bangalore, a zen center with a Christian twist, another guy's ashram, and a meditation retreat up north. Options a plenty. I wanted to check out the yoga university because it sounds super legit (perhaps you've heard of Vivekananda - or perhaps I am dropping names to an obliviously unimpressed audience :). I heard about this yoga university from two different people (always an auspicious sign). So I simply took a 2 hour bus ride to the city, found and Internet cafe, and located this place online. Fortunately they had a phone number. And not just one phone number - five of them! I tried all five. Unfortunately, ten fruitless phone calls later, I was at a loss. Didn't even sound like it was a working number. Bummer. Next, I sauntered over to the hotel where I'd previously stayed. Let me a tell you a secret about India. If you learn just three syllables in their language, they love you. I will ask "what's your name?" ("paa-ren da?) and I've gotten reactions from laughter to "Oh, Malayalam!" (the local language in Kerala as well as an impressively lengthy palindrome), and most recently, my massage therapist clapped her hands together, exclaiming "Oh my God!" and brought her folded hands from her heart to the top of her head. Dude, it's three syllables. Anyway, they like me at this hotel and greeted me warmly even as the a/c washed refreshing cool over me. I sat down in one of the cushy chairs in the lobby like it was my living room and hung out at the hotel for a couple of hours while things finally fell into place.

At my momz request ....

Welp, as Uncle Mike (chief writer for Recovering Gypsy yoga adventures for the past several years) is happily brewing craft beer in San Diego - I'll try to step back up to this task of bloggery. The group retreat went spectacularly. I had an amaZing group of yogis who were down for most anything - we laughed. A lot. I've missed these yogis since I've taken to the open road, or the open railways at present moment. There are cows and goats and chickens and lotus flowers and people and laundry drying as a hot breeze tickles the peppermint oil on the back of my neck. Anyway. I've just finished visiting Chechi ("big sister") whom I haven't seen for ten years, on my first visit to India. She took me to a little tiny mountain town called Vagamon, where we met some of her friends who run a little clinic for the villagers. The woman in charge is a rare specimen of humanity; she is more concerned with people's well being than making money. They have a birthing center, a small pharmacy, and a couple of cows (they live adjacent to the clinic, not in it ;). The house they live in was designed by a Brit named Lorry something or other - and he believed that architecture should meld to the land, so it's a cool funky building with this crazy view of tea plantations and mountains and gardens. No one around as the eye can see. It's an all ladies situation, inhabited by devout Christians. I found myself in their prayer room as they recited Psalm 91 in Malayalam, as well as some other prayers and chants of which I understood nothing. They explained to me that we already have everything we need - it's been given to us by God. Our problems and our prisons are created by us in our minds only. Pretty rad. Also rad that I was sitting with Christian and Hindu women, all praying together as one. I fancy myself a bit aimless at the moment and am heading to the yoga ashram, which is my home base in India. I remember that my frets are man made, or in this case, woman made. While I definitely miss my family and tribe back home, I also remember to lean into uncertainty and its discomfort to uncover adventure and whatever lessons I have to learn on this wandering path. Om tat sat! (That's that, that's the truth :) Oh, and some signs I saw on the road : "Infant Jesus College of Engineering" and "Green Leaf Disposables and Plastics" - bit of an oxymoron, no?