Wednesday, June 20, 2007
LIONS AND TYPERS UPDATE
The reading on Saturday night was good fun -- although for some reason I found it difficult to read (perhaps because I wasn't wearing the requisite glasses?) and tripped over the tongue several times. Fortunately I went on early, and was able to enjoy what the other writers had to say.
Here's another excerpt from the magnum opus:
When we finally locate the hotel, the tiny lobby is full of British yoga students, drinking choy. The women have bare, sunburnt shoulders and their ankles and calves stick out below cropped Indian print pants. From the guidebook I know that this is considered to be extremely slutty, since those areas are considered erotic and should be covered at all times.
Many are also wearing a single toe-ring on one of their feet. In India, this means you’re a prostitute. I consider telling them and decide against it.
I recognize their faces from the yoga retreat we just attended, in the seaside resort of Kovalam. We were both terrified to go to Mysore, so we decided to first go there and study with a Western teacher whom we knew well. I thought it would ease the shock of our first visit to India. We both got sick anyway.
The people in the lobby are the students who could do all of the advanced postures – and didn’t say one word to us the entire three weeks we were practicing next to them. I say hello to the room anyway. An emaciated guy with a shaved head nods dismissively.
“There are no rooms,” he says. His accent is posh. “Join the queue.”
“That’s OK,” I say. “We have reservations.” My voice comes out thick and slow, like John Wayne.
The manager has a Hitler moustache and a red tilak mark on his forehead. He searches, but cannot find a record of our reservation. He shows us the dusty green ledger where our names should be. He says there are others ahead of us. He offers to arrange for a room somewhere else.
“We’ll wait for a room he-ere,” I say, still talking like John Wayne.
“WHOA-kay,” he replies, wagging his head side-to-side and smiling. “No problem, madam. 5PM coming.”
And then he hands me a business card that says: “Kauvery Hotel: A Decent Lodging Place.”