QUOTE O' THE MONTH
from No Full Stops in India, by Mark Tully (1991):

"Swami's vehicle was a Hindustan Ambassador -- still the standard issue for everyone in the government of India who merits a car, from the prime minister downwards. It is a bull-nosed four-door saloon making no concessions to modern aerodynamics -- the late-forties model of the British Morris Oxford. It came to India in the fifties and has dominated the roads ever since. Officially the Ambassador has been through several changes during its long life, but each new 'mark' has meant merely a face-lift for the front grille or a new dashboard. The engine behind the grille has reamined the same, and the chassis and springs carrying it have not altered. The car has two outstanding qualities: there seems to be no limit to the number of people it can carry, or to the length of its life. Mind you, the Ambassador is a demanding car -- it needs plenty of attention to keep it on the road, which is why every Ambassador driver has to be his own mechanic. But despite its stern principles of economic self-reliance, or pulling itself up by its own bootstraps, even India has not been able to withstand the Japanese invasion. The Maruti is now the fashionable car in the bigger cities. Named after the son of the Hindu wind-god, it is in fact a small Suzuki. Hindustan Motors, the manufacturer of the Ambassador, has relpied by putting an Isuzu engine into the body of an outdated Vauxhall and calling it a 'Contessa.' But Hindustan motors has not stopped producing the Ambassador, as it is still in demand. Although the Contessa is more comfortable and has an engine which can power an air-conditioner as well as a car, I still feel safer setting out on a long journey in an Ambassador. Contessas -- and indeed Marutis -- require new skills and spare parts when they fall victim to India's treacherous roads, and those skills and parts have not yet spread into the countryside."


My links *never* work but we'll at least try to do....


www.domain-b.com/automotive/models/hindustan_motors/ambassador_2000.htm

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE

I forgot to mention yesterday that I was *kicked in the head* for the first time during yoga practice on Sunday (a common occurance as there are five rows of ten to 15 in close quarters, head to foot). The chick in front of me was jumping back from a sitting pose and I was in caturanga (plank pose), face up as is traditional and she PLANTED HER HEEL RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY FOREHEAD -- HARD. It hurt like hell but it was also in that spot right between my eyebrows -- you know, the center of consciousness... It certainly woke me up, probably in ways I have yet to comprehend. I had an immediate headache and the punter didn't seem to be very sorry so I made several "what the hell?" faces at her when she was looking back at me in Downward Dog (she did ask how I was afterwards and I gave her the astronaut's thumbs-up). After many poses the pain receeded and in the end I had a totally enjoyable practice next to The Model (a guy who looks like one -- in a good way -- and has almost the exact same physical practice I do except his feet don't drag when he jumps back and he doesn't use ujjayi breath (like Darth Vader) but sniffs (which is not correct). So of course I slowed and amplified my own breath, to set an example.... which means that in the end it was he who helped my practice). In fact I held my bum off the floor througout Guruji's long, slow count to ten (hitting nine several times) in Utplutith (uprooting pose in which you're in lotus and holding yourself off the floor - kind of an arm balance in which your arms get really tired and can't hold you up and you give up and let your butt touch the floor). It was a first for me, to stay up through Guruji's count. And, knowing India, probably a last. For awhile anyway.

I GOT TO YOGA EARLY THIS AM (AS IN 4'30) AND SAID GOOD MORNING TO THE OTHERS AND THEY JUST LOOKED AT ME LIKE I WAS A WALKING TALKING COW PIE. THUD.


I just went to Conference, in which Guruji and Sharath sit on the stage and Guruji explains something about yoga. This time it was don't do asana without vinyasa (movement linked with breath) and take only one guru. Also only one doctor, only one wife. Otherwise -- dying. There was also a garlic metaphor that I missed and an edict to study only one type of yoga. Afterwards everyone stood in line to foot-kiss and broke into small groups. We bought the new video from Sharath (I think he doesn't like me) and then Bindi and I took off to this here fast internet place. We are those two antisocial rock n roll *&^%$es with the wild hair -- actually we're just shy -- and we like it, yes we do.


Today Miss Y and I went to meet Maha Deva, the mother of Geetha (whom Y put thru nursing school). She brought us to her daughter's house, where they served us a very tasty rice dish and fruit and put on English TV for us. On the way there Maha D [now *there's* a rap name] rode sidesaddle in a beautiful white sari (with a pink rose pattern) on the back of Miss Y's bike. Maha D's other daughter was also there, many months pregnant but still tiny apart from the basketball in front (Geetha is in Bangalore, working). The grandsons kept showing us their school pictures. The older one is very serious, the younger an imp and both as cute as could be (tho the younger had a fever/headache, which should surface in me in about three days). Lots of smiling and pointing and using the small amount of Kannada we know and slightly greater amount of English they now. It was fabulous....

Then the girls put on their best saris (Y and I were in Indian dress) and we took pictures in back, in every possible group combination. It was good fun esp. as I was using the curs-ed digital camera and were able to enjoy some instant gratification. After chai we took Maha D and the older boy on our scooters to Maha's house, which was another rather long journey to Kali-knows-where. The boy rode behind me and wrapped his thin little arms around my thick waist as we weaved through traffic. I felt like I was in charge of very precious cargo indeed, he being the eldest boy and all (in the entire family as Maha's husband and only son are dead). But we made it there in two pieces. Maha gave us long, emotional goodbye hugs like we were her own daughters,and it made my heart melt. Apparently she cleans students' houses in Gokulam. I think I could learn a lot from her.

Next it was back to the Kaveri and postcard writing and lunch at Auntie's, where the new (to me) Kaveri manager -- who's quite a looker -- also turned up for lunch. As we ate we watched some Kannada movie about an overweight moustacioed rickshaw driver in a dhoti (duh). Auntie's sons seemed impressed that I had braved Lakshmi Talkies to see Dhum ("dumb"). The elder one served me as Auntie was eating -- I've never seen her eat before! as she's always serving. Normally she is in the kitchen working her ass off and customers and family are at the table in the other room, in front of the TV. We sit on plastic stools and occasionally Auntie pours out some water from a bottle and sprinkles it on the table and wipes off the crumbs with her bare hands. She was wearing a stunning magenta and purple silk sari today and I was wanting to clone it. And she said *I* looked nice in my bright blue Rs 200 Indian dress (the Kaveri guy concurred) even tho my hair was pulled up like a tart. Otherwise I was full Indian -- ankle bracelets, 12 silver bangles on each wrist, nosepin, nice necklace, punjabi dress and matching bindi (dot). Uncle was asleep on the floor in front of the TV, as he often is, swaddled in a sheet. (When I say on the floor I mean ON THE HARD, COOL CEMENT FLOOR). From time to time the nice granny
who does the dishes and appreciates a "Namaskar" when you arrive popped her head into the tiny back window and watched, too. The tiny square window fits just one head and is at head height. The sons also do this -- although more often than not one of them comes in, eats hurridly and then stands next to the TV, in front of a small wall mirror, and combs his perfect black hair back over and over a la Fonzie. Flies are everywhere and cows are outside. It's Auntie's and it's the best.



BONUS FACTOID: The Indians are FREAKED OUT about the amount of vitamins I'm taking. (Yeah, and who's twice as big and strong). They say western urine is the most expensive in the world -- because we're peeing out all those vitamins and minerals......BTW it looks *really cool* under a black light. Try it sometime.

KNACKERED


Ack, I am still vibrating from all the scooter-driving [your lewd comment here]. Today I met the girls and The Real Hanuman (who is from Hawaii and looks like / loves the minkey god and uses his western name) for Indian breakfast at Green Leaf. The Bald Tattoed guy from NYC was also there and after some time Lino showed his shaved, beautifully-shaped head. What a storyteller. And an imp to boot.....Afterwards the four of us (Miss Y, Bindi, H and I) headed up Chamundi HIll on scooters (you're sposed to walk up but, um, I'm still recovering). We stopped at the giant Nandi (Shiva's mount, a bull) and did a puja (gave rupees, got holy water and kum-kum powder and walked around the giant stone bull clockwise three times). Then we went to see the Cyber Saddu (renuncient or holy man) in his cave. He had an altar of many gods including of course Shiva (The Destroyer, with the trident and Ganges river flowing from his hair). There was a cushion on the ceiling of the very low doorway where people bump their heads, which seemed to impress most of his visitors. There were also a couple of resident western chicks in another alcove making chai and doing who knows what else. One of them was from San Francisco (of course) and the other was pregnant and I thought, Saddhu's baby. BAD LADY for thinking that. The Saddhu had wonderful long matted beard and hair and great eyes and a pot belly, and offered us chai and prasad (sweets) but no weed, as has been rumored (good thing since I'm a big pot prude). Then he took a cell phone call while we sat on the side -- the cave was a little stinky, underneath the heavy incense -- and watched Indian people come in. It was a treat to be in the audience, instead of the unwilling performance artist. And let me tell you, not all of the natives knew what to do either. He kept handing them what looked like water softener pellets and some knew what to do w/ them, others didn't. (I guess you just eat it -- I heard him tell someone it's sacre, or sugar). At one point a bevy of thin, pint-size girls in matching khaki uniforms and hair piled up the same way came in and they seemed reverent but *really* confused. They didn't stay long.

Afterwards we went up to the top of the hill and instead of going to the temple of Chamundi (an avatar of Parvati or wife of Shiva. who kicked some demon ass) we went to the Godly Musuem, where a woman in a white sari explained the entire exhibition, which was too out-there to describe in mere words. Suffice to say we are all going to hell, and then heaven will come here, and it's all very colorful.

Against my better judgment we eschewed the temple and scooted to Lalith Mahal, the fancy palace / hotel with the pool and restaurant with the Rs 200 ($4) thalis (thalis or meals are usually Rs 15 to Rs 30, at least at the places I frequent). It turned out the only thing they had to eat was an Rs 350 Valentine's Day buffet that included Indian dishes and British leftovers such as shepherd's pie and vegetables au gratin. At least there was live INDIAN music.....Strange experience and the bill was a heartstopper -- my food budget for the week. We checked out the pool and many westerners were there. Not my scene. Or Bindi's, thank Durga....

We scrammed and popped by Prashanth's CD / VCD store, Reggea [sic] n Raga. He was there with two of his buddies, plotting to go to the next showing of Phone Booth. We piggybacked on their trip but when we got to the theater they were missing a reel (surprise! It's INDIA!) and we had no backup plan (a byproduct of living in the moment, every moment). We drove to some other theaters -- me on the scooter trying to follow Prashanth, who had three guys on his really fast motorcycle in heavy traffic, trying to elude the cops (you can only have three on a two wheeler if one member is your kid). After losing them a few times we ended up together at a Kannada film called Dhum (pronounced "dumb") at Lakshmi Talkies [band name alert]. It lived up to its name and featured a tough hero from a small village, with rolled-up sleeves with a score to settle (his gesture was to keep checking the sword he kept down the back of his shirt). The women were overweight, which was awesome, and most of the men wore dhotis, were fat and had moustaches. Love Kannada fil-ums. The dance sequences were unusual and fun (so were the costumes) and the music was great. There was too much talking, however, and the plot was muddled. Lots of death and suicide and fighting, then CUT to dancing at a water park. A great time was had by all but one member (P's friend,who left at halftime because he thought it sucked).

That said, can I just say how many westerners we run into who are afraid to go to the movies here? Their eyes get soooo big when we tell them we're going to the movies. I remember my last trip, it was so hard to find someone to drag along. You don't go alone, that's for sure. But HELLO! It's a movie. TRY IT SOMETIME. It sure beats the tailor for entertainment value. And you might actually learn a thing or two about the local culture.

YOU SAY PO-TAY-TOE
I SAY PO-TAH-TOE


I must have had five gallons of water yesterday and not much food -- advice from the Man in the US for getting rid of a cold -- but it seems to have worked. The long day was spent in Rm. 13 at the Kaveri Lodge, where I turned off the fan (it fans the cold), talked to the MiUS, read from a great book of essays called No Full Stops in India by India-born British journalist Mark Tully, tried to study Kannada (it's all evaporated), did some napping/drooling and researched going to Bandipur Wildlife Reserve during our days off next week. Apparently some notorious bandit has resurfaced and is kidnapping people at the park again; he's pissed off because four of his cohorts are about to be executed. I read that they are making preparations to hang them -- there hasn't been a hanging in this area in decades -- and they are being very careful because if they don't croak the authorities are not given a second chance to off them. I wonder what George Ryan would think of that (is he in prison yet?)... In any case the park is out...... Back to yesterday..... I did come out of my hole for a late, lite lunch across the street at Auntie's. She was out but Uncle was there in his white dhoti and bare chest and Brahmin thread and clefted chin, and it was easier to tell him "Sakoo" (enough) than it is to tell Auntie, who loves to heap on the food. More on her place in an upcoming blog. Suffice to say, 30 rupees, no wait, EXCELLENT South Indian thali (meals) that seems to get better every day, and eating with Indians in an Indian kitchen while watching Indian soaps.... later in the day Prashanth brought me some *tablets* from the pharmacist, and said "Take two after eating and before sleep." I have no idea what they were -- it's like my own little taste of the 1960's -- but they seem to have worked. I did sleep thru yoga which seems to be a good thing as Bindi says the line was out the door at 4:45 (there were led primary series practices at 5:15 and 6:30). Apparently there were so many people in the later group they were practicing in the foyer!

I woke up with aching teeth -- why do colds do that to me here, but not at home? -- and met Bindi and Miss Y for Indian breakfast at Green Leaf, a sparking clean new "hotel" (cafe) in Gokulam with great service and great food, low prices and very few westerners. It's where we met Manju and Lino for breakfast. Afterwords we went back to the girls' place and talked about whether we were going to join Lino for a scooter excursion / swimming in the Kaveri River. I wasn't gonna go because I was exhausted and what kind of idiot goes swimming while recovering from a cold. But just then Geetha's mom (mother of Amy's nursing student friend) brought over some wonderful homemade iddly, and suddenly I wasn't so tired.

We had four scooters and one motorcycle (ie eight mods and two rockers) and followed Lino to the countryside and some English estate where we met a posh Brit named Rupert (of course) who dissed Pattabhi Jois / ashtanga yoga before launching into the history of the place --- apparently it's a plum by-product of colonialism / the defeat of the Tipu Sultan. Whatever. It was beautiful and out of my league and they let us go out in back where some went swimming while others, wearing all black Indian dress, sat on a rock and hid from the sun and read Debonair magazine (which, as Bindi points out, is both blatantly sexist AND feminist -- and contained a great interview with Marilyn Manson). Afterwords we went to a lovely riverside restaurant, Hotel Mayura or someting, run by the KTRSC, or Karnataka tourism board. Bindi had a UB Export -- try one, I recommend it -- which raised one or two pairs of eyebrows (our new hobby -- to raise eyebrows among anoerexic/holier-than-thou yoga students who have given up sugar/fruit/wheat/TV/eating/cerveza fria/showering/newspapers ["I don't want to know what's going on in the world"]/you-name-it.....HELLO?! It's called *moderation*). Diatribe finished....

After using the bathroom at the place I asked one of the gentleman for a card, as they have guest houses and, like Lino says, it's close to Mysore yet far enough away to seem like a vacation from our very long vacation. The guy seemed confus-ed so I repeated, "card, card" and made a small square with my fingers. "Yes yes," he said, doing that little South Indian head tilt. He disappeared into the kitchen and came out several minutes later smiling and bearing......... a stainless steel dish of.............curd.

SPUTNUM

Bad cold today so no yoga for me (can't do ujjayi breath when the nostrils are filled w/ snot, can you?). Slept in til 8, had some peelable fruit (kept in Zip-Loc bags so the bugs don't find out), ordered a chai and then went to Nilgiri's (western-style grocery store) to pick up Kleenex, soymilk, etc. before the air filled with exhaust fumes. I saw a bus so jampacked with people that faces were pressed against the back window and several men were hanging off the side -- common here -- and then another guy got on! BTW The soymilk comes from Thailand, is expensive and has milk products in it. But it goes better with Spiruteen and museli than regular milk, which has turned me into a big fat snot factory.

POME CONSTRUCTED DURING OUTAGE
USING THE IM AT CABI-NET

Tell me this thing works
I'm here -- can you hear me now...
logged on to messenger by accident,
thought some creep next to me was trying to IM me...
and it's you --
the opposite...
[no reponse]
this is like masturbating
or doing a radio show on WMXM
bindi and i are
about to murdah
the net wallah
if we don't kill
each other first
we could eat each other
like the German cannibals
discussed at breakfast
Bindi'd be a better writer
and I'd come up from backbend
each and every time
o for a western toilet
at this very moment
and to make r. kelly
stop stop stop
the same song
plays over and over
we cannot log on
it is one hour later
kill, kill, kill
my wallah

THE BITCH IS BACK....

Greetings from the slowest Internet place on the subcontinent, the Cabinet (or should I say Crappynet) -- which yesterday was fast and boasted AC, and to which I dragged poor Bindi after a long, slow breakfast today. I've been here for the past half hour sweating and trying to log on to three seperate machines. Now we know the reason we priviledged westerners have so much free time in Mysore (after two hours of yoga there's nothing to do all day) -- so that we have time to go online and wait for food, tailors, browsing, scooter, mobile phone hookup, etc. (Miss Y has been waiting for days to get a scooter that works, from a well-connected local named Shiva. You can also get hooked up with housing and transpo -- for a fee -- by Babu from last time 'round and Krishna-the-rickshaw driver, who's not to be confused w/ Krishna-the-tailor, whose HQ are now in Gokulam. Apparently Neeru from the olde days is out of the loop). Lucky me for having Prashath set me up with a beautiful, fast scooter....he also found some great speakers for the Chinese CD playa, and yesterday I got to listen to Beck!

OK enough complaining... no, wait -- there's more.....Yesterday I got my clean, still-warm laundry off the line and was folding it on my bed when what came out of my yoga shorts (the ones I was folding) but a big, fat, crunchy cockroach. Dead. I yelped anyway. Then I managed to get it to the toilet and used the bucket to get it to go down. Later I found one of its legs in my bed. It fell on the floor and went "crunch." Ick! Bindi says you can hear them walking, crunch, crunch, crunch. But I wear earplugs when I sleep (Thanks to Doug, so can many others) and the only thing that gets thru is the 5'45 call to mosque. After being plagued by roaches Bindi moved to Sharath's old room in Gokulam (Miss Y is there also, right across from the shala in Guruij's old house) and discovered thousands of ants are living in her room. Today's Carrie Bradshaw Setup and Question -- "Mysore, City of Palaces. Seven hundred thirty five thousand people procreating and not dating in the regal hometown of the Wodeyars, where men hold hands, the department store sells DDT and the local paper carries headlines about traffic fatalties and dowry deaths......: Which is greater threat to the tender westerner -- three giant cockroaches or thousands of tiny ants??"

I keep forgetting to mention that Kasmir of Jammu and Kasmir (the two others from Chi-town) got bored -- I mean gored -- by a bull last week. Apparently they've been getting a little too close to the animals (one puppy-petting incident caused PMSsy me to snap, "Have you had rabies shots?") The bovine creature drew blood, and K. went to the hospital for some mysterious injection. Her ass hurts (where she was gored) but is healing quite well. J. was not at yoga today due to sore throat / fever. In addition to power shopping she is taking tabla lessons. In class Miss Y is doing some intermediate poses and she, Bindi and I all practiced alongside each other in the back row today -- who ends up where is completely random, but sometimes things just work out that way. The majority of the shala floor is covered in colorful rugs but the floor in back is cold, beautiful uncovered marble (a few days ago the rug from the old shala, with the counterclockwise swastikas, was there and has since disappeared). I like it back there. In fact Sharath helped me in backbends today and it was divine....

45 minutes later and I've read exactly two e-mails. This is a new record. At least the power's back on. The guy finally admitted there are "problems with connection." No duh. "Wait five minutes."

More westerners arrive every day (two came during breakfast this morning, to the B&B). They practice after us and the shala seem to be going to 9:30, which is probably a new record (we finish around 8:45....Saraswati and Sharath disappear around 8:30 to teach other classes, leaving 89-year-old Guruji to do the honors. He always says "Thank you very much" a la Elvis after helping you with dropbacks and the forward fold that follows). The large western population means scooters are hard to get , there's a wait at Ike n Tina's (B&B with the French press coffee) and whenever you go downtown you run into other westerners. Not that there's anything wrong with that. The good news is that Lino's organizing a scooter trip to the Kaveri river on Friday. Miss Y and I were lucky enough to breakfast with him, Manju (Guruji's son) and another student yesterday. Satsang! ...Next week we have four days off in a row due to a Saturday, a full moon (Friday) and Shiva Ratri (Shiva night, a very important puja in which Shiviites such as Guruji stay up all night fasting and chanting the name of The Destroyer), plus one extra day. Hopefully we'll get it together and go on a road trip.

OK, now they are playing god-awful guitar-solo western music at full volume and my earplugs are back at home w/ the crunchy cockroach leg. Must...get....out....of....here....

Only I can't, because it's an hour later and the Internet is *still* not working. And now I'm being held hostage by Wordpad (on which I'm typing this). I can't leave the text here and I can't take it with me. It's the eternal connundrum, isn't it? And yet another Lesson from India.....

COPS GOT A QUOTA

After breakfast of dosas and chai with Miss Y, Bindi and Lino (the latter two had iddly) I took a wrong turn and was pulled over by The Man. They were motioning tons of people on two-wheelers over to the side of the road. The Man asked for my D.L. (driver's license) and I said, It is not here with me. "DL," He kept saying. It is coming, I said. Sent from US. Mail is late. Of course I was picturing every foreign-prison movie I've ever seen. I thought for sure we'd end up there (Bindi was on back). But then I remembered I was in India. Instead -- of course -- there was a fine of Rs 300 for no DL, and they did not impound the bike (Thank Durga). They wrote me a "Check Report-cum-Receipt," which will look nice in my diary/scrapbook. All for the low-low price of $3.

Someone just let out a loud burp. No excuse me, no thing. Actually it's also OK to spit here, too. So is honking.....I'm at the ghetto internet place w/ the no-lights and the shitty keyboards, chickens, porn pop-ups, pee smell, etc

So it looks like I *will* be moving to the burbs, esp. after last night . The question is whether Bindi or I will be moving first, to the place across the street from the shala (one room is open now; another in a couple of weeks. Miss Y is already there). The rent is less and there's less driving, which can be scary, and less exhaust inhalation (my throat is killing me). Also it's less likely that what happened last night will be repeated. I was*starving* after not really eating all day (usually I have a big breakfast and lunch and eat cereal for dinner) due to feeling icky, going to the movie, conference, etc. So when 7PM rolled around I was starving. This is usually dinnertime here. It was dark and I was coming back from Gokulam via scooter and I stopped at a kind of fancy restaurant, King's Court. I sat and they brought water and I started to order and they're like, that's not ready, we don't have this, either, nor that. It all it will take a long time, etc. and I had nothing to read and was not in the mood so I left. Then I stashed my scooter, got a book and walked to the downscale, fly-friendy Iyengar's near the Kaveri Lodge, dodging mean dogs and creepy guys and curious children and motorcycles and cow pies to get there.

I sat down and pointed to the table next to me, where the men were eating thali or "meals" (many courses on one plate, like at Desparakash). "Meals!" They brought the bottled water and nothing else. I asked another guy for "meals" and he kind of shrugged. I read and waited and nothing came, despite the "meals ready" sign in the middle of the sidewalk. I pointed at the sign and said "Meals Ready!". Shrug. I looked at the kitchen; no one was moving. Then a group of about 15 women walked in. I got up and left and did not pay for the two ounces of water I'd drank. I guess I can't go back THERE again.....On the way home there was another dog chasing me (they have a thing for westerners), plus folks staring, pointing, making comments (I'm in a very nice Indian dress, btw). I get to the Kaveri and I'm ready to lose it (PMS + hunger + exhaustion + loneliness = crying jag) and I tell the desk guy, Send someone to get me two masala dosas, and handed him some money (the daily assertiveness training seems to be working). He talked to an underling and after some conversation did that marvelous little South Indian head wiggle that said, OK.

I went to my room, took off my dress, put on the special t-shirt and a Sigur Ros CD and breathed deeply and recalled how easy everything seemed a short time ago in Gokulam, where people stroll down the street without being chased, the Internet works and you don't have to play a real-life game of Frogger to get to the shala. I thought, why am I stressing myself out when I don't have to? I lived in this part of town for four months, I don't *really* need to do so again. Ten minutes later the dosas came. They went down fast; then I cleaned up and went to bed. It was 8 AM.

THE BEST-LAID... PLANS

Last night P and I walked around the tank and then drove up Chamundi Hill on the motorcycle but it was cloudy and the moon was nowhere to be found……This AM I got up at 4:30 to do the 5:30 practice (it's led on Sundays, as opposed to self-practice) and halfway to the shala I realized I'd forgotten my mat! So I went back to the lodge, did Nescafe Nauli Kriya (ie; had some really great instant coffee and did enough abdominal exercises to cleanse thoroughly) and then had a rather excellent practice at 6:30. Much sweating, a great standing forward bend adjustment from Saraswati AND I held myself up the whole time in Utplutith (Sharath again led the 6:30 practice). Then Miss Y and I watched the intermediate people, which is a real treat. They float.

I'm about to head out w/ P. to some religious mela or get-together 20K away; he wants to shoot some video and I'm just curious....

LATER

After getting *home* I realized I forgot to pay Bick for the tiny coconut I had after practice. Apparently it's one of those days; my throat is sore and I'm not 100 percent (about 70, actually) so we didn't go to the mela after all. Instead I had a nap.... I drempt my stepbrother was lying on top of me (we were fully clothed, thank you) about to kill me but then put the gun into his own mouth and fired. It made a huge mess and he weighed a ton. Then I woke up and went to the bathroom and mended a hole in my bag.

P and I wound up seeing "Angi" (a name for Hanuman, the monkey god from the Ramayana epic; also the name of the moustachioed hero), which P. pointed out was basically Raiders of the Lost Ark with a magical Shiva Lingam in place of the ark. It had everything -- the sound was *amazing* and the not-too-lean, mean hero could dance! The fight sequences weren't overly drawn out, the choregraphy was amazing (lots of phalluses throughout) and, w/ one Fly Girls-with-Blueblockers-meets-Dhoti-Guys exception, the costumes ruled. The kids got some magic powers and beat up the bad guys (who killed an innocent granny and a dog and tried to kill a girl with glasses, after stepping on them). The heroine was a Miss India (again) who wore glasses and piloted a helicopter. Kick *ass*. And it was in Kannada (local language, very vexing but not so much as to ruin the fil-um).

Afterwards there was a conference with Guruji. This consisted of everyone sitting on the floor of the shala -- some 100-odd people, ridiculous -- and listening to Guruji talk about some sutras. (In the old place he would read the paper and about 30 people would watch and sweat -- it was inevitably during a power outage or "load shedding" -- until someone would ask him a question, like the favorite, "During pregnancy yoga OK, Guruji?"). This time Guruji talked quite a bit and Sharath translated. Suffice to say God is in everyone but to realize him (her!) you have to cleanse yourself... by doing yoga. Some people practice in the shala; their bodies are there, but not their minds. Cell phones kept going off, and a garage door kept opening and closing. The overhead fans were still. "You take practice... long time.... after practice, pranayama. The body is the foundation," seemed to be the gist of what Guruji said after that. Sharath translated; You can have money and spend money but life is precious. Pray to see God, to realize God.

We also learned that there's a new AYRI-approved DVD (not sure what but I think it features Guruji and Sharath) on sale for Rs. 1000 (+/- $22.00).

After the half-hour talk, Lino told Miss Y and I that we have four days off mid-month. Not sure where to go /what to do. Last time Sean and I took the scooter to Kodagu (the mountainous coffee district formerly known as Coorg). I do know that I don't want it to be a major expedition w/ a ton of people and all of their competing needs.

BAD FORM, PART II

A couple of nights ago Bindi and I were buying bananas, etc. at the little storefront down the street. As I was paying I noticed a woman behind me, pressing up against me (ideas about personal space here differ from those in the US). We'd encountered a lot of beggars that day and she was holding out a tin. So as I left I dropped in a coin. It made a huge clinking sound that reverberated down the street, as the thing was empty. The woman looked at it, looked at me and started laughing. So did the shopkeeper. Then I realized she was a middle class lady in line to buy something, probably ghee (clarified butter). Boy, was my face red.

So far this is the most Ugly 'Merican thing I've done since coming here. That I know of, anyway...

BAD FORM

There were two led primary series yoga practices today, at 5:30 AM and 6:30. The gang decided to go at 5'30. The way I understood it, we were meeting at 5 in the Kaveri lobby to meet the rickshaw, which I'd follow on the scooter with Bindi on back. I got down there at 5:05 and no one was there. Not realizing *I* was guilty of being late, I waited and waited (as I have over the past several days for others) and no one came. I finally went upstairs and saw the locks on two of the doors (the third member was sick and the fourth had moved) and realized they had left without me. So I was on my own to find the shala in pitch dark, predawn Mysore.... and I'd only driven there once before (the previous day), following the rickshaw that P. and I had arranged.

Of course I got hopelessly lost. After stopping several times for directions (Gokulam! Yoga!) I finally found a rickshaw with a westerner in it and followed it to the shala. We arrived at 5'24 and the class was already in the midddle of the second Surya Namaskar (sun saluation B)....So I took out my cassette recorder and taped part of it. Then I waited for 1.5 hours for the next class to start, during which Miss Y came in and invited me to breakfast with her and Manju (Guruji's son). Lino greeted me too, which is always a wonderful thing, and I chatted to a shala owner named Patti.

After class (which Sharath led) Miss Y and I took the scooter to Ike n Tina's (Tony n Holly's) where we met up with another student we both know (Adarsh) plus his galpal and a delightful women from Russia. Then we scooted to breakfast with Manju, who brought Nancy Gilgoff (senior teacher from Hawaii) and others who were equally engaging. So it all ended up for the best, except that I'm overcaffeinated and ate two breakfasts -- and we're about to eat more at a goodbye lunch for Adarsh/Tony....

LATER...

The thali meals at Desparkash are legendary and now I know why (prior to today I'd only eaten snacks there). It's Rs 28 for all-you-can-eat rice, sambar, rassam, sides, curd, dessert -- all served on a stainless steel plate. It was stupdendous as was the company, which included Jeff and the Chai Newlyweds from NYC, a fascinating woman named Skandia and Annie Pace (being around her is like bathing in a warm glow). Another satsang, thanks to Miss Y, in which the conversation ranged from how to get westerners hooked on chai (get them to try it) to kirtans to the importance of flossing ("You don't have to floss all your teeth. Just the ones you want to keep").

Miss Y and I also changed money ("doo doo" in Kannada), did E-mail ("Browsing") and ran errands. We picked up the dresses we had made and I have to say, despite our differences the tailor is a genius. And black dupatas (scarves) were back in stock at the dress store (Now *there* is a band name). So I feel like I have ten more outfits (when you wear a kurta or western-style shirt it's best to put a scarf over your assets, even if they're minor).....

# posted by C.K. @ 11:07 PM

HIGHWAY TO HELL

Here in Mysore there are few stop signs, no speed limits and nobody (except other vehicles) to slow us down. Nonetheless I was able to pilot the scooter to the shala and back again w/o apparent mishap (and w/o asphyxiating myself on the way there, when I was following the rickshaw. BTW there are few pollution controls here).

I had a tired, weak practice but that was OK (except for the part where the woman next to me – who apparently thought she was the only person in the room -- repeatedly and unapologetically dragged her very long fingernails across my face, arms etc) . There is a car that plays the theme from “Love Story” every time it backs up and we were treated to more bars of that song today (cars here have backup songs, as do some water filters). Partway through Sharath announced that since Friday is a full moon (no practice), tomorrow (Thurs) would be considered the end of the week, and we could choose to do led primary series at 5:30 or 6:30 AM. We are leaning towards the former as there will probably be fewer people and Bick will still have coconuts when we come out (he ran out today… just between all of you and me they’re not the nicest coconuts I’ve seen and they’ve gone up from Rs 5 in 2002 to Rs 7 [they’re 6 in the city center; before last night’s Scooter Lesson P and I had a couple of really nice ones from the Coconut Family -- they are friends of Suddha’s and delightful]). Guruji again helped me in backbends -- I only did six – and told me “very good” during that and the forward fold that follows. He has a rather nasty cough which is worrisome. After bowing to his feet later (followed by a hug/kiss) I asked about it and he said it’s getting better, not worse. That’s good news as he’s, like, 88 .

Big-time teachers who are here right now include Lino, Eddie Stern, Annie Pace, some British guy named Alex and Nancy Gilgoff, who arrived yesterday and is also a fan of the color purple. Folks I know from the last trip include Randy-from-the-DC-area, who is sporting short hair / beard and lives here nine months out of the year, Jeff-from-NY plus others I can’ t recall right now as I am experiencing a serious coffee buzz-inspired memory lapse (two cups would be too many, I think).

Afterwards we again had the excellent coffee at Tony n Holly’s interactive B&B, sitting next to some cute Finn girls. A friend of T’s came over and did a fashion show and tell for us; he had some cool Hanuman stuff and explained temple etiquette and showed us the clothes that had been designed by him and sewn by Krishna, who costs a bit more but is worth it (the other tailor everyone uses is Manju; both sew their nametags into their clothes). I’m kind of tailored out after yesterday’s run-in w/ the guy who is putting together our custom-made Punjabi dresses http://www.shrishti.net/product1.htm (you choose the unconstructed dress and then they make it to fit you, which is a blessing for overfed Westerners with overdeveloped ashtanga shoulders and ribcage). I found the place on my last day last time around and it is wall-to-ceiling dresses in every color, style and price range – all waiting to be sewn together. I chose a crazy bright blue and green number and a plum-colored cotton one that seemed like a good idea til I went to the tailor (we walked; we were hungry, it was hot and it was far away) and he started telling me it was too thin and would have to be lined. I didn’t like that it’d be 1). Hotter and 2). Three times the quoted price so I got into it w/ him at the same time Miss Y was trying to tell me where the rest of the gang were going to eat (they didn’t want to wait for me; I blame it on low blood sugar) and I snapped a bit. Then I went back to arguing with the tailor. I decided to go w/ the other plum number I’d been looking at, which was an additional Rs 100 (just over $2) and would not need lining. It was a whole thing but I at least won the battle (the outcome of the war will be determined when I see the finished products). If I were Carrie Bradshaw, I’d put on an outfit, pour a drink and type, “Are tailors the new boyfriends?” But I’m not, so I’m wearing unfashionably baggy clothes, thinking about peeing, and typing many, many paragraphs….

Right now I’m sitting next to Bindi, who’s wearing a bindi (sticker placed at the third eye, or center of consciousness). The woman on the other side is yet another teacher from Chicago (“D”) who is dabbling -- I mean studying -- with the very popular Sheshadri, who apparently speaks very good English and gives out lots and lots of adjustments (sorry folks; I’m a devotee of Pattabhi Jois who has been teaching for 60-odd years [most of that time for very little or no money] and if the choice is between him and one of his students, well, I choose to go to the source. If this makes you want to label me as being divisive, go right ahead)………

LoC

Long time no write. Sunday night we saw the palace lights. The music was Indian; it was cool and everyone was out and in their best outfits. We went to a temple (the palace has several) where the Brahmin priest told us about each and every deity in it. We understood about a quarter of it and I was kicking myself for not having the tape recorder (one of the deities was sitting on a prone Shiva; another had Chamundi (avator of Durga / Parvati and the patron goddess of Mysore) standing on a severed cow's head and the dome of the bearded demon Maysashura (which I've misspelled, and is where Mysore gets its name) ... That same day I had some scooter lessons w/ Prashanth on a new road that rings Mysore; no one was there and no one was hurt……


Yesterday (Mon) began w/ me waking up, wiping my eyes and noticing ANOTHER GIANT ROACH SCURRYING ACROSS MY PILLOW. All I could think was, “Was he here with me all night? What did we DO?” Then I realized I didn’t really want to know. That same day Miss Y game me some “chalk” (a stick of poison that has probably been outlawed by the US FDA) that you use to mark around areas where you don’t want the creatures to go. For some reason they won’t cross it. I drew a Line of Contol (just like the one up in Jammu/Kasmir, on the Pakistan border) around my bed as well as my bathroom drains and the doorway to the bath. It seems to work; this AM I woke up alone.

Also yesterday me, Bindi and P. went to see an action/kung fu/romance/drama at a nearby theater. It starred the son of the most famous Karnataka (the state I'm in) actor ever, Dr. RajKumar. He's 98 or so and has a doctorate in something. Anyway the outfits were awful (disco / 80s is in here, also cowboys), the fighting was stilted and the choreography was bad but it was still awesome. It was about Karnatic pride ("Speak Kannada, not Hindi") and villagers getting browbeaten by the underworld and the evil developers. It even had some political / religious elements that I picked up on.....All the women in these films look to me like Bridgette who teaches at NU (she's subbing my Sunday noon ashtanga class; see <www.yogamind.com).The style seems to be small (western) cheeks and noses -- but fabulous little bellies. Thank Kali there’s at least one culture where it’s not a mortal sin to possess a pot belly. On the flipside, the style for men has gone beyond ye olde fat dhoti guy w/ moustache -- they're now thinner and often facial hair-free. Also *they cry* (new thing according to Bindi).

I woke up in the middle of the night last night and decided to stay at the Kaveri (surprise) and keep the scooter for the trip to Gokulam. I'm still a bit unsure about how to get to the place so tomorrow I'm following the rickshaw; Bindi will ride on back. Tonight I practiced going thru some intersections (no traffic signals or signs here), doing more turning and then dealing w/ actual traffic. It seemed OK.

Today was about shopping w/ the girls (don't ask). Also after yoga we found the breakfast joint run by a sweet Brit who was here in 02, Tony, and his equally cool wife, Holly (Tony n Tina's B&B; it's interactive). They had the best coffee ever (French press). We most definitely will return.

So the yoga…… The shala is huge and the family lives in the palatial quarters above (it’s across the street from their previous Gokulam digs; before that they lived in the old shala in Lakshmipuram, near where I’m staying). The marble floor is covered in colorful carpets and there are changing/finishing rooms for men and women (the western bathrooms are a complete 180 from the tiny-stinky manual flush Indian toilet job in the old joint, which only fit 12 students at a time). Here some 50 or 60 practice at once, in close proximity. They say there are 120 people here now – a record, I think – but the wait is short (nothing like the two hours of two years ago). But you don’t see all that many westerners in my hood, which is near the city center. They’re all by the shala, in Gokulam (which, appropriately, is a very upscale, western-looking suburb).

I received zero adjustments on Monday and no help in backbending as Guruji was in his office and Sharath had left to teach his other class (Saraswati also disappeared at some point). I was doing my backbends thinking, “Goddammit, where are they? I’m being ignored.” Then I got over it and amused myself by doing a total of 11 BB’s; during the final few I worked on rocking back and forth and unsticking my hands from the floor. They came up a few millimeters, which is sort of a breakthrough…

I’ve noticed before that they don’t seem to remember me when I wear my hair differently so today (Tues) I quit the pigtails and put it back up into a single fountainhead. There was a bit more wait this AM and as Sharath was calling people in and he saw Lino and one of his teachers and told them to go. Then he looked right at me and said, “You.” (I think this may be my new Indian name -- "You"). So I waited for a spot and went in. Again there were no adjustments for me but it’s a relief in a way, and while not focusing on my breath, bandhas and racing thoughts I noticed that Sharath was keeping track of each and every thing happening in the room, just like Lino does. He came up to a person next to me and said, “You do Marichiasana D? No? Tomorrow. You wait for me.” Then he did the same to a guy regarding backbending. After doing several of the latter and coming up 2mm off the floor, I stood at the front of the mat and Guruji helped me in an abbreviated version of the dropback sequence (he’s not helping people up and down from BB or putting people back on their head like he useta, just doing the rocking five times and walking the hands in, straightening the arms and coming up for a big hug and butt-pat). After a leisurely closing sequence I had a very sleepy savasana…

SO MUCH FOR AHIMSA (NON-HARMING)

Last night we (Bindi, Miss Y and I) donned our best Punjabi dresses and met Joseph (Guruij's right hand man) for dinner at the tre posh Southern Star Hotel (the one where westerners buy a membership and hang out around the pool all day). He is charming and you can listen to him forever (his voice reminds me of Merce Cunningham's). Also he has a kick-ass 500-CC Enfield motorcycle (retro cool, made in India itself).
http://www.royalenfield.com/product.asp?products_id=7&products_location=india&country=

Later in the evening we were hanging out in Rm 13 (my room) and I felt something moving beneath the collar of The Man in the US's Sun Studio t-shirt and I tried to brush out whatever it was and it seemed to be gone and then a few minutes later it did it again and I screamed and brushed and brushed and it was a TABLESPOON-SIZE COCKROACH -- WITH WINGS (ie, after being brushed off it *flew across the room, scaring my friends*). Ick, ick, ick! I found it this AM legs-up under my bed and promptly ended its suffering. Thank Shiva for pink mosquito netting. But poor Bindi, she got no sleep after the incident as she was thinking about bugs all night. I don't mind them so much, but here they are fearless (turning on the light, waving your hands, hissing, etc have no effect) and like many local species seem to have no qualms about invading one's personal space.

Today we had our first practice at the new shala. Prashanth came at 5:45 to take us (minus one, who's on Ladies Holiday) in his rickshaw. He's not a rickshaw driver but he plays one on TV......Actually he owns one that he leases to others (smart guy) and took four of us in back -- my ass was hanging off the side -- for free. It's about a 20 minute ride, longer if you've too many girls in back (or have too much back). Yoga was really good, led primary series (they call out the poses in Sanskrit, vs. a self practice which is done most days) and I am still feeling the body buzz. The new place is spacious, has big pix of Guruji and Amachi and Krishnamacharya (Guruji's teacher, who also taught BKS Iyengar and Desikachar) and a very good vibe. The family lives above; there's a pic of it being constructed in my 2002 Mysore diary, which can be accessed at www.yogachicago.com. Guruji started leading, then Sharath took over. Today I learned that you should not go into Halasana / plow pose (even for half a second) to set up Sarvangasana (shoulderstand). Bindi learned you should not hook your feet ("clipping") in Utplutith (The Uprooting, where your hands are on the floor holding you up in lotus -- kind of like tolasana) which of course Sharath had us hold forever (and which I held the whole time,w/o hitting the floor once!)

After consuming two coconuts (rhey've gone up to Rs 5 to Rs 7 but are sold by the same guy) and paying many rupees to Guruji, Bindi and I headed back to the Kaveri and breakfast at Auntie's. Her place is a few doors down and she cooks for Indians and Westerners; what she has is what you eat. It was some really savory rice dish, I dunno what. Tomorrow it's dosas. Anyway she recognized me -- everyone does, even the Internet girl (who now wears glasses) -- and said, "Why not coming last year?" Love it here.

Tonight: I'll don a sari and head to mass w/ Prashanth (it's such a trip what w/ the bare feet and no hymnbooks and altar boys aiming the fan at the preacher). Then all of us are going to the Mysore Palace, where on Sunday nights they turn on the lights and have live music (usually an armed forces band playing Anglo tunes like Auld Lang Sine -- really bizarre).

BONUS LINK:
If you're in need of comic relief -- and who isn't -- check this out:
http://www.todayschicagowoman.com/DiannBurns.asp

DON'T EAT YELLOW COWS

I finally made it to Mysore last night and the cows are still florescent yellow from the January 14 festival.

Before leaving Kerala we made a bit of a scene at the Trivandrum airport. Three girls in Punjabi dresses (me, Miss Y, Bindi), two adequately covered (T and U) and two boys tan and looking fab (W and The FC, who was dressed in his tailor-made "Hugh Hefner outfit" featuring black paisley satin pants with red buttons all the way up the sides and a red red shirt). There we were making a fuss and forcing another passenger to take our picture with no fewer than five cameras.... and then a security man came over and said it's not allowed.

The flight was uneventful but the car ride (in an aqua Ambassador) was not; due to traffic it took a full hour for T, U and I just to get out of smoggy Bangalore (Miss Y and Bindi stayed overnight in that city; the former to visit her nurse friend and the latter to chill in an AC hotel w/ cable). Along the way we sucked more exhaust than you can imagine. Then there's driving in India at night -- not recommended. It's one lane each way shared by tongas (horse drawn carts), rickshaws, bicycles, pedestrians, autos, lorries, giant steel busses, cows, goats, and vansful of tourists. Passing is done on curves, uphill, and everywhere (preferably on an uphill curve in front of an oncoming truck) It took over four hours to get to the Kaveri Lodge.... which seems like it hasn't been cleaned since I left at the end of May in 2002. They remembered me, which was nice, and set me up in in the room directly below the one I stayed in for four months (western toilet!). When I'm there I keep wondering what year it is (When I'm not thinking about the dirt).... esp after ordering a breakfast chai and installing a new pink mosquito net (apparently Bob and I did NOT get ripped off when we paid Rs 350 for ours in '02). Vishunat (main manager) was there this AM and asked how i found the room. "It is nice but it is a bit dirty. "Thankyouverymuch," he said, interlacing his fingers at his chest and bobbing his head in gratitude. I decided not to press the issue. T. cleaned her room w/ Chandrika soap and now I've given mine a once-over.....Not sure how long I'll be there tho. It's 5Km to the new shala from there.

Today Prashanth came and we went around on his motorcycle running errands. He looks the same, and has stuck with the ashtanga teacher Iyengar (Rs 100 or $2/month for Indians, $100 for westerners) and is nearly finished with the intermediate series (I started teaching him the sun salutations and standing poses on the roof of the Kaveri Lodge in '02). He did not seem too impressed by the Frango mints T offered him. In any case he is back in school f/t (he has a master's in computer science) studying fil-um. His acting teacher was a big actor back in the day and is his mentor; Prashanth wants to direct.....

I went to change money at the old American Express place across from the Hanuman temple but it's changed hands. They still change money though, don't they. The dollar is still crap, 44 rupees per (in 2002 it was 48) and what used to cost $550 -- a month at Guruji's, which is now paid in rupees -- is nearly $600. They gave me such a thick stack of notes I had to count it about 20 times. It looks like I robbed a bank.....

There's no registration at the Ashtanga Yoga Research Inst on Saturday but we went over on a whim and caught Guruji, Saraswati and Sharath on the way to their car, dressed to the nines. Sharath of course looked like a Bollywood film star. Guruji said, When did you come and I answered last night and told him Y was on her way (she's been here, like, six times). He said to register tomorrow at 9. Sharath then told me to come to led practice tomorrow at 6:30. "Come early," he said, "Come at 6'15." Not sure which practice it will be (primary or intermediate) but it will be practice, that's what's important. Saraswati asked where we're staying. I said the old neighborhood, we're looking for a house. Or something....

In a short time Y and Bindi will arrive from Bangalore. Then maybe we can get more food. As far as I'm concerned it's all about eating/sleeping/yoga.....Not necessarily in that order.

LIGHTS OUT IN KOVALAM

I was all primed to take the bus to town to buy some sh*t in Trivandrum today but I was *so hot* when I finally got to the stand I didn't feel like waiting and ended up weasling out and taking a rickshaw. The wallah gave me a good deal, drove me exactly where I wanted to go (round trip) and did not try to change the fare (tre unusual). His name was Ali and he was surprised that I'd heard of Nusrat Fatu Ali Khan. Anyway I found the sandalwood carving artists by the temple, where i bought stuff last time 'round, and all they had was overpriced Ganeshes (elephant head god) and I was not in the mood. I chatted for a half hour w/ the main artist and *left w/o buying anything.* I've finally gotten past shop-asana pose (or so I think).

Lino was handing out poses like candy this morning -- to me anyway. I had a relatively strong practice due to much sleeping yesterday......My new yoga poses are:
Bakasana A and B
Bharadvajasana
Ardha Matsyendrasana
Eka Pada Sirsasana

The last involves putting your foot behind your head and going into a sitting forward bend....

I'm tre exhausted, big yoga day tomorrow (full vinyasa yoga, meaning many more sun salutations than usual) plus travel. After talking to Lino we're not taking a train from Bangalore to Mysore but a hired car. Much less stressful....If all goes as planned (ha) at this time manana I'll be at my home away from home, the Kaveri Lodge.

PS
Word on the street is that the singles issue of Today's Chicago Woman has hit the stands...it's making a *huge* splash here.

JUST LIKE THE MOVIES

They show bootleg movies on video up and down the beach here at dinner time -- the Guru is a favorite -- so the other day Bindi, Miss Y and I set out for some repast and Pirates of the Caribbean, or what my friend Munkin likes to call the Black Pearl. I've been here long enough now that I thought the whole thing was about India:

-Bindi's rickshaw driver friend is the son of a fisherman and every night they (fishermen) go out in their boats and ring the horizon like a row of Xmas lights. "How cool it would be to go out with them and see what they do." I said. Bindi explained it'd be impossible -- women are invited out once a year for some ritual but otherwise are banned because they're bad luck (just as women are banned from the yoga shala during ladies holiday....God forbid we defile it). So there we are at the movie when some character protests bringing the pretty girl along: 'It's "frightful bad luck" to bring a woman on the ship, sir.'

-The cute boy in the movie wants to go after the pirates who stole his girl but isn't allowed to sail with the colonial Navy. "You're a blacksmith," he's reminded. In other words, wrong caste.

-There were naugty monkeys in the movie and many more here in India (they scare the *&^% out of me, as does Hanuman).

-Johnny Depp had to pay a creepy urchin to park his boat at the dock. Here in India it's a rupee or two to take a leak or, say, park your bike at the railway station.

-Pirates haggling over who gets what percentage of their plunder = every day here in Kovalam.

BENDING O'ER BACKWARDS

I had to do kapotasana twice this morning. The first time was w/ Gwendolyn who is very methodical, and it seemed like I was there for a week, trying to first inch my head back (w/ the inhale) and then crawl my hands towards the feet (w/ the exhale), and then repeating many many times. After about 45 years she let me move my hands back a few inches and straighten my arms for five breaths (Part B of the pose) and then said "Come up with a big inhale" and I did -- slowly, and not without smacking the thigh of the person next to me (yesterday she said the same thing and I started to come up and faltered. "You were doing it until you started thinking about it," she said. "You got scared." She is seventysomething and she was right). I count coming up on my own today as a breakthrough --- and it'll totally help me to stand up from BB (Which is what Lino said yesterday when I asked him what I could do to prepare to do it -- "Kapotasana," he answered). So there I was kneeling on my faded purple rug, triumphant w/ coming up on my own, and panting. Next thing I know Lino is standing in front of me. "Why you not touch-a the toes?" Because it's my fourth time (officially) doing the pose. "Fourth time, you touch-a the toes." How far were my hands from my feet? "This close" (holds fingers less than an inch apart). Oh! Should I do it again? "How does your back feel?" Fine. "Then you do it." Oh, boy. "Oh boy who?" Oh *man*. (Laughter). So I got on my knees and went back -- first you put your palms in prayer (this pose requires a prayer. And some wings) then take your arms back and land on your palms. Then the head comes down and you walk the hands in, then move the head closer and lower onto the forehead, etc. Lino gets right to the point with this adjustment (which is easier to do the 2nd time around) and next thing I knew my right fingertips were toucing something that felt like a half-cooked lima bean or semisoft M&M -- the back of one of my toes. While crawling my fingers back (like spiders) I lost sensation in the left arm, but not before feeling my fingers touching the other toe-pads. Lino helped me up this time (Thank Rama) and after doing a vinyasa he gave me the next pose -- Supta Vajrasana or Sleeping (ha) Thunderbolt pose. (You are in lotus w/ arms crossed behind your back, hands clasping your feet; for an image see http://www.tejasyoga.net/gpage.html and scroll down). That was also very exciting as my hands stayed bound to my feet the whole time (Lino really knows what he's doing). My muscles felt like putty afterwards, and then it was time for back bending... (still haven't come up) which seems easier to do after those two intense poses. Once I caught my breath, that is.

We were getting ready to leave for the flower show and art museum at 11:30 when who arrived at our wee hotel but T. and U. from Chicago. They are here for 3 days, then going up to Mysore. We got them coconuts, showed them the important places (tailor, German Bakery, beach, coconut lady, Webby World -- all w/i steps of our place) and then took off in the rick$shaw.... I just got back and am filthy/completely spaced out. (Miss Y and I wore Indian dress, including ankle braclets, bangles, salwaar kameez w/ scarf and bindi; I also brought my orange and pink parasol for the sun). There were a lot of cool orchids. Also a mini auto show, which I insisted on dragging Miss Y to. They had mint cond. British vehicles circa 1950 including Austins and others w/ steering wheels on the wrong side whose names are elduing me at the moment. And nearly every taxi on the street is an old white Ambassador -- very cool.

MUCHO DOLOR

I woke up w/ a headache this am. It vexed me throughout my practice and made me so nauseous that more than once I thought I was going to toss it. Somehow I didn't lose it though (what would I throw up into? My rug?) and after Advil, coconuts and water, during my protein bomb breakfast, the thing somehow went into remission. I have decided it's due to one or all of the following: 1). side effects from parasite meds, 2. Dehydration, 3). Kapotasana, the pose (backbend) I'm working on, in which my head moves in a way it never has before (like this http://www.ahj.pl/images/galeria/kapotasana.jpg only my hands are miles from my feet), or 4). the intense heat and near 100% humidity. Pick one.... In any case the flower show has been postponed til tomrrow, which is a good thing since the museum we were also going to check out is closed on Mondays PLUS it's Republic Day (big holiday). So today may invovle going down to the deserted beach that has better beach chairs and waiters, where the boys are going. Over breakfast the FC and I kind of traded witty (or so we thought) repartee w/ W, Miss Y and and a male Swede.... we learned that Sweden has the highest suicide rate because of no sun. He also had the lowdown on The Scream by Howard Dean, ugh. Breakfast is the best.

SPIT SEW FLY SING

Today I awakened weak but w/o headache. Actually I was awakened at 4 by the ritual disgusting throat-clearing / hacking / spitting by the man across the way (he usually does this around 6 and has enough sputnum for 8). Then I went back to sleep, got up at 6 w/ the alarm (we practice at 7) and brought out the olde Sony to tape (yes, tape) the olde man (I think it's a man) but he was nowhere to be found. I'm making a Sounds of Kovalam tape, the highlight of which so far is the man selling sunglasses on the beach. "Sinnnnnnnnnn-glass-ISH!". He looks like Sammy Davis, Jr (w/ two eyes) and is a favorite from two years back.

During those many hours in my room yesterday I started mentally designing clothes, and went to the tailor to today to make them reality..... Tailors line the beach and trails, their wares flying in the wind and beckoning to us. After being a whore for a few days (I was using 3 at once at one point) we are all going to the tailor next door to our hotel, and trying to get *deals* due to our high volume of business (sometimes this does not seem to work at all). The tailors here are more expensive than Mysore but they are easy to get to, have fabulous textiles and do it right the first time.

We booked plane tickets today, which makes me happy because we're all 3 traveling together on Friday -- our posse's on Indian Air -- so my reservation at the Kaveri Lodge may actually stand (tons of people doing the workshop here go up to Mysore at the end of the month, and those that arrive first get the rooms. Last time round Bob and I came a day later than our original reservation and -- despite e-mailing and calling - there was no room at the inn, was there).

Manana we are going to town (dusty exhaust-laden 1/2 hour trip via overpriced rickshaw w/ the kick-ass driver who just made a dramatic, fillum-inspired pass at Bindi) to see a huge flower show that has sub-shows, such as a bridal fashion show, plus we'll try to hit the art musuem. The driver costs more but he's worth it: he knows where everything is, and pulls ahead at stop lights when others park next to us and try to gape at the western weirdoes in back....He also has the scoop on everyone here.

Today was about humidity and sleeping and Miss Y's kirtan (devotional call-and-response chanting -- like being a kid again -- w/ Miss Y leading and playing harmonium). All the workshoppers from different parts of the world (Europe, US, S. Africa, Down Under) seemed to relish it. Today was also about waiting an hour for the folks at Webby World to get us back online.....(got bored spending 45 minutes watching the guys trying fix the thing, pointing and clicking endlessly). They just would not take my suggestion to turn the [Mororola!] modem off and on again, which always fixes me up back home. So after awhile I went next door for a coconut. Life's a beatch and so am I.

TWO THUMBS UP

Yesterday's Hindi movie -- Khaaki -- was an action-western-road-buddy-comedy-romance-horror film with a Miami vice-looking bad guy, cute corrupt cop (cute in an thin nose/lips/cheeks Anglo kind of way, if you go for that sort of thing) and a seasoned good cop who useta be top box office and has Eric Estrada hair. Again the style was: high tight jeans w/ belts, shirts tucked in, sleeves rolled. up. There were nods to Scooby Doo, Gunsmoke, Fritz Lang's early work, L.A. (With DeNiro and Pacino), Papillion, Lost in America, Bonnie & Clyde, a Britny Spears Video, Law and Order and that killer chase movie w/ Steve McQueen. In other words, it kicked *ass*. A few minutes in the lights went up and seven Salwaar Grrlz (contemporary young women in long Punjabi dress ensembles w/ baggy pants and scarves) filed past us, each w/ her own theme color, matching dupata (scarf) covering her assets. 'Twas odd since you rarely see women at movies (they must wait to catch them on cable/video).....The excuses for dance sequences included: driving past a movie set, falilng asleep in the sun, and a Muslim funeral (in this one they weren't the bad guys! Instead it was a corrupt cop turned evil crook).

Later there was a "Playground" or handstand workshop with Lino at the shala, in which he explained (again!) how the breath controls the movement for jump-thrus and arm balances. He was in fine form: "You don't think about it, you-a do it." Miss Y and I helped each other into handstand several ways -- including from prasarita paddatanasana (standing legs apart forward bend) and from upavista konasana (sitting wide angle forward bend). It was then I realized how weak I am from the diarrhea/parasite/drugs.

This AM I awakend to a lovely call from The Man in the US and only later realized I had a splitting headache / nausea / major fatigue. The headache started to subside after having rehydration salts, Advil, about a gallon of water and two coconuts (both with a fair amount of meat or gungy; after drinking the water w/ used straw the woman cuts it in half and you scrape out the insides w/ a piece of the shell. Coconut has always been one of my most favorite things ever and now even moreso). Then I went over to the German Bakery (less than 1/2 block stroll down the beach) for breakfast and a pot a chai. I was still feeling a bit off -- apparently I haven't been taking the parasite seriously enough -- and afterwards forced myself to go to my room and lie down / read / sleep for the next five hours. I think it's helped immeasurably. Later I fought w/ my Chinese CD playa for 15 mins and did exercises for my knee to Jeff Buckley, (it's tre sensitive due to what I think is [but may not actually be] an improper adjustment in cobbler's pose. Otherwise I'm quite pleased w/ the instruction here, which is even better than it was two years ago....).

Bindi and Miss Y (Bindi is a drummer, Y sings and plays harmonium) are leading a kirtan at the yoga shala tomorrow night and while watching the sunset tonight --- giant red-orange ball type -- we called out to and recruited a lad walking by w/ a guitar in his hand (a pierced teacher from Sheffield on a nine-month world tour, starting in India). He may bring an Irish banjo player. I will bring the lighter.....

MANY RUPEES BUT NOT MUCH SENSE


THE FOLLOWING WAS CRIBBED DIRECTLY FROM YESTERDAY'S ENTRY IN MY *REAL* DIARY, A DAY AFTER BEING DIAGNOSED W/ A PARASITE -- which can cause dehydration -- and told to come back in two days for a checkup. It was written after walking up a HUGE hill to the hospital in awful heat and featured about a million more cross-outs and misspelled words than usual. The stuff in the brackets was added later, for clarity:

"Thurs 21 [notice the wrong date] Jan 04. Kovalam Hospital Waiting Room, 5:30 PM

"(The [nurse's] Saris are actually lavender, like this paper)

"You walk in , the fan goes on. What must they think of us?

"The [climb up the] hill has made me tre lightheaded. Perhaps not a good idea to see the Dr. a day early to tell him I'm OK, so I can go to a movie tomorrow at our appointed time.

"So nice to sit down. Sweating bullets. Looking ill, I bet [I am now, let me tell you].

"Many people here today.

"My handwriting looks bizarre even to me. At least I'm in the right place if I pass out (why am I wearing the longsleeved heavy pink top)?

"Maybe I'm delirious.

"Duh.

"Just felt faint [ie -- I almost lost it and fell forward onto the cold tile floor]

"Ut-oh.

"So easy it'd be to give into it......
....................................................................................................................................


"5:30, SAME PLACE
"After peeing (it smelled like iddly but was not so yellow as to be scary)....

"Saved self from faiting somehow. Sweated bullets. Cute-but-annoying little boy -- a miniature man, actually -- w/ red kumkum paste one his palms -- & his baby sister in the over-the-top ruffled pale yellow dress, massive makeup, giant fake mole [so evil spirits are distracted from her beauty],, shaved head & bracelts on her wrists and ankles. Saw me and cried harder. Scary white sweaty ghost.

"Sitting is good.

"That was definitely an India, what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here-moment. Looked outside @ red dust & dilapadated hut & old bicycle & greenery & thought, 'I'm so fucking far from my own safe bed, why in the hell did I decide to come here? And if I faint, will the hospital....."

ONE FOR THE MONEY, TWO FOR THE SHOW....

I had Hitler's breakfast today -- coffee and bread -- and so far so good. Actually they call it a German Breakfast (the French Breakfast consists of cafe au lait, croissant and cigarette; the American one is a whole list of food including CornFlakes, eggs, bacon, etc. The German Bakery also has Indian, Fisherman's, Farmer's, Italian and English [ick!] breakfasts). Today we were there for two hours -- nothing like a day off from each other to make the heart grow fonder......Yesterday I saw one of Lino's adjusters consuming coffee and German chocolate cake for breakfast -- scandalous!

The parasite meds make a girl itchy and unable to sleep so I spent most of the night w/ racing thoughts -- none of my tricks, including doing the primary series in my head (and using ujjayi breath), could slow it down -- and it brought on an amazing headache. I was sure I wasn't going to yoga when I got up but then my four course pre-breakfast of orange / pink ayurvedic banana / electrolytes / Advil kicked in and I tried some sun salutations in my room and decided, Why Not? I went, thinking I'd stop after navasana (boat pose / primary series halfway point, sort of). That felt OK so I kept going. Apparently some of my pot belly was lost during my recent "cleansing" because for the first time ever I held my wrist in supta kurmasana (sleeping tortoise pose, in which you are face down, feet behind your head and clasping hands (wrist!) at your back). I continued to feel good after setu bandasana (neck-killing final pose in the primary series -- a backbend in which the feet are like Charlie Chaplin and your forehead is on the floor) so I kept going and surprise! I held my wrist for the first time ever in pashasana (noose pose, in which you squate low and encircle your fat bum / legs w/ your long arms). A few poses later Lino gave me Kapotasana (intense backbend in which the forehead is on the mat moving towards the butt and the hands are on the feet (ha!) and forearms are (supposed to be) on the floor. Before that I had to come up twice from the prior backbend, Laguvajrasana (to prove i could do it) and let me tell you the second time was slow and wobbly indeed. I do know that when I have these (physical) breakthroughs they usually disappear for some time and come back when / if they please.

And now the extremely local news.... The talkative sunburnt lovelorn Kiwi moved into our hotel -- which is so clean and has such a great balcony and is like a girl's dorm (sort of) full of mostly women and their (mostly well-behaved) kids. Each day is a new adventure for said Kiwi -- elephant riding, henna tattoos (his "Ohm" looks like "36"), exotic beaches -- and he is still coming up with some entertaining blanket generalizations about people. His *travel agent* friend came to visit him the other day and I noticed that she wore one toe ring only. "Interesting" I thought, recalling that in India two toe rings (one on each second toe) means you're married (they're usually silver; two gold ones apparently mean you're in the kyshatrya or warrior caste). I learned this in 2002 when I was going around w/ two silver toe-rings and was told, "People think you are married." Not wanting to break the rules / appear as something I'm not, I took them off. This time, to seem less like the western trollop that I am, I kept them on and got a thin silver band for my ring finger (my husband is very, very cheap). But I also knew from reading the Mysore bulletin board
http://pub42.ezboard.com/fyoga84291frm12 that one ring means you are a prostitute (doncha love how everything is out in the open here -- death, life, work). Bindi did some asking around and sho-nuff, the travel agent is an agent-cum-working girl. Sad story - Fi Fie Foe Fum, married an Englishmun.... who cheated on and ditched her. What else can a woman do? She can't divorce the fop and it's not like everyone can be a doctor these days, even in literate Kerala. In any case she seems perfectly delightful (I particularly enjoy the way in which she tows the Kiwi around by his nose). In fact Y is at this very moment deciding whether or not she'll go on a backwaters tour w/ him tomorrow.....arranged by One Ring herself for many many rupees.

NAULI KRIYA, or EKA-KARMA AYURVEDIC TREATMENT

Today I slept thru practice. Last night was rough -- as it got darker the fever came back and worsened and each time after eating the stomach would churn, churn, churn and then it'd be time to hit the toilet. And drink water. This makes one tired as the body is not getting any nourishment -- although I did finally keep down a pudgy, rose-colored Kerala banana......Today was a moon day anyway (primary series practice only) and after Y knocked on my door around 9'30 I met up w/ her at the German Bakery (of course) where I tried to consume my usual pot of chai (made it thru half) and uppama (ate about a third, despite thinking, "There are starving children in the US!"). I was invited to A) go to Kanyakumari w/ Y, The FC and W, or B) hit a movie w/ Bindi and her rickshaw driver friend -- a controversial one in the local language w/ action and communual violence. I tentatively chose B and said, "Let me go back to my room and see what happens" and sho 'nuff about ten minutes later the washing machine effect began -- I imagine the little fuckers taking all they need from what I've eaten and spitting out the rest -- and then it was back to my most lovely western toilet. BTW a hot topic of meal conversation here is bowel movements -- how often, the consistency, color, etc. So if you are not into such talk STOP NOW.

OK, you had your chance. Suffice to say 'twas yellow, frothy, eggy -- all the symptoms of giardia. After emptying myself I went to the "English Doctor" I visited last time around (for a sinus infection), walking past our old hotel, down a most delightful windy cement path thru a green green palm-filled paddy or whatever and up a huge hill -- and he was right where I left him. The "sisters" in pale blue saris had me sit down and a minute later I was sitting next to the doctor himself, who checked my pulse and tongue and had me describe in detail my symptoms (always a treat for me). He agreed it was most likely a parasite, probably giardia. Only a stool sample would tell for sure and I was not in the mood. He fixed me up w/ two days of meds, hydration salts etc for Rs 300 (about $6) and said to come back in two days; one day if I hadn't improved. Love that man. Spent the afternoon buying books, making a call to the US (where it was 1'45 AM, oops), eating (and expelling) iddly and hanging out in my room. I ventured out an hour or so ago for a tender coconut on the beach, where I met a German man who told me about a type of alpine skiing where you walk up the hill yourself. He said not many Americans are traveling abroad. I said it was because of the weak dollar. He said no, they're afraid of air travel. And then it all became clear: Bush's reelection plan is to keep us scared so we don't travel and find out how weak the dollar is (and how upset the rest of the world is with the US right now). Meanwhile our foreign goods are cheap, they fly off the shelves and jobs are created in 'Merica. Life looks good so people actually elect him this time around. O for an absentee ballot....

Diatribe is finished. Can I just say I can see the beach from where I am typing this? There's a breeze, the sun is going down, and there is a beautiful pink glow to everything. Feeling very lucky to be an ugly 'Merican right now....(and knocking wood at this very moment).

MALERIA/GIARDIA/AMOEBA
(The Subcontinental rock/paper/scissors)

No post yesterday due to fever and *loose motions* as they call it here (I prefer "anal leakage" myself). I stayed in bed / bathroom and Bindi and Y brought me tender coconuts at regular intervals. (They reuse the straws here, which I find icky).....Anyway I was in all day, resting and having racing thoughts that never got to the "what in the hell am I doing here / every decision I've made has been wrong" stage they did the last time I was sick. It really helps to have friends here (not to mention an avidly e-mailing malepal back at home). This morn the fever was gone (I check it obsessively, to make sure I don't have maleria/ giardia / amoeba) and after some Emerge'nC decided that if I felt OK at the top of the many stairs we climb to get to the shala, I'd stay. All seemed well so I did my primary series practice and some intermediate poses, which Lino said would be OK today (There are six series in the ashtanga vinyasa practice; primary, second [aka intermediate], advanced ABCD. You can't do second til you've done first, and get only one pose at a time, etc. I like the few poses I do in 2nd because it's all about backbends -- opening the heart, moving the spine the other way, etc. Anyway when you first get here you do primary til Lino thinks you're ready to move on). But after my last pose, laguvajrasana (intense backbend w/ hands behind yr knees), I thought I was going to faint or vomit. So there was no help in backbend for me (today would have been the first day to have help dropping back; Lino busted me when I went into a forward bend before he came over for dropbacks but when I explained I was dizzy he said no problem-a, we'll try it on Thursday [tomorrow being a moon day]). I felt OK for breakfast -- had uppama, a very mild South Indian grain dish which I did not finish -- and we saw The Firecracker (and cracked up talking about a Mysore teacher telling Bindi's friend she couldn't jump back because her ass was too big, and segueing into a discussion of the merits of Sir Mix A-Lot's "Baby Got Back"). FC and W. are going to Kanyakumari tomorrow (southermost tip of India where three seas meet) and invited us. I've been and would go again -- they're taking a car, so much more luxurious than the seven-hour bus ride two years ago -- but the loose motions have returned. So more time in bed today, I think. I've nearly finished VS Naipaul's "Half a Life" --which I got in a big hurry at the Bangalore airport, thinking it was "A House for Mr. Viswas" -- and at first it reminded me of Narayan's "The Guide," then Zadie Smith's "White Teeth." Then I remembered that I'd already read it. In any case it certainly makes for some interesting fever-reading.....

I went into the water all the way yesterday -- awesome. Tre refreshing and I did not get dragged out by the undertow (a few tourists die that way each year).

Yesterday we also saw a too-too funny action/war Hindi movie. Bindi's rickshaw guy took us right to the Trivandrum theater w/o incident . The film-um we thought was playing was not (welcome to India) so we saw what they had, Zameen, about (Muslim) Kasmiri terrorists and the country of Pakistan vs two swaggering hot guys in the Indian army. The hottie without the moustache was married to a stunning air hostess (they had to bring her in so there could be dance sequences) and of course she ends up on the plane the bad guys hijack (BTW it's the same word in Hindi as it is in English). You could tell which was the baddest of the bad guys because he made a little girl cry by twisting the head off her (Caucasian) doll, slapped the air hostess in the face and beat up a spastic. The last was one of the great movie sequences of all time, I think, as you could not tell whether the spastic was acting (he did seem to be when one of his palsied arms suddenly straightened, got really long and smacked the baddest bad guy). At the end the airplane took off from the Pakistani airport at the last minute, while the hotties just barely made it into the helicopter before the Pakistani army blew them away. The had the head terrorist with him, and stuck a grenade in his pocket and threw him out of the chopper; he fell straight down and blew up the Pakistani army guys. Apparently happy endings are unusual, and on the way out of the theater Bindi heard a man (very few women go to movies) say, "American ending." ...For the record -- they have popcorn but it's in little plastic packets. I opted for the cheese balls (a cross between Bugles and Cheetoes, only stinkier), which you get at intermission when suddenly the screen goes white and the lights come on -- never in a place that makes sense.

Most of today was spent inside my room, sleeping and figuring out the CD playa. This is because Lino looked at Y and I this morning and said, "After class, you sleep-a. You don't see the way you look at me. You are jetlagged. Sleep-a." I was, like, "Can we eat first" (it's all about the food) and he said OK.....You don't argue w/ a teacher like him ; he *knows*, and you do. I was exhausted/dizzy and Y was sick last night anyway, after we had dinner at Beatles (yes, that's what it's called and that's what they play, ad nauseum). We ate with an embittered piano- playing Kiwi whose wife just went AWOL. We like him because he gets ripped off worse than we do and spouts amusing stereotypes about Americans and Indians. He was here to do a tour w/ a famous (in some places) Indian-born violinist who got stalked and had to go back home to Austrailia. BTW, did you now that N.Z. was the first country to give women the vote (late 1800's) and that Russell Crowe is a Kiwi, not an Aussie? All I know is he's not for me.


Tonight I got kind of groped on the beach by some boys who asked Bindi and I to take a pic w/ them after we watched the sun go down. The guy standing next to me first brushed one of my cans, then "accidentally" touched my other can (bum). I gave him an earful.


The yoga has been great so far. We practice on the top floor of the Peacock Hotel; there's a flame-colored opaque plastic ceiling, green clay tile floors and wicker wall coverings. It's like being outside, but you're protected from the elements (it's not good to practice out of doors, even if you have a mohawk). It's very loud as the birds are out of their minds, especially the hawks. There are lots of people but we're scheduled (Bindi goes at 5, we go at 7) so it's not a problem to get a spot...more details later

Today I woke up for the first time w/o nausea / headache. I think my sinuses were having a hard time adjusting. Today's a day off from yoga (Sat) but I was up at 6'30 sharp -- slept very well, thanks to earplugs -- and puttered about my tiny room (I had a chance to switch to a bigger one but chose not to, thus saving over $1/day) before going for a walk along the beach. The fishermen were there, pulliing in their nets. It looks like a tug of war, with a row of men in colorful lungis (kind of like a billowy diaper; think Gandhi) and oxford shirts and white mini-turbans (towels, actually) facing the sea yanking on a rope; the guy at the very end coils it into a perfect circle. Also seen on the beach: A western woman in bikini w/ her small daughter, walking into the surf (much less rough today); a woman in tights and jogbra lying on her back in savasana, nothing between her and the sand; and nearby a thin, way-too-tan western man w/ a mohawk that ended in a grey dreadlocked ponytail, folded into into a pretty good rendition of pascimattasana (sitting forward bend). Also the supermangy dog that curled up at my feet on the beach yesterday. I also spotted the owner of the mysterious sparkling ballerina slippers Y and I keep seeing outside the shala; I think it's the really pretty blonde German woman who was so nice to Bob and I two years ago....she was deep in reverie, looking into the water, so I left her alone... Was not asked to buy something til the late hour of 8AM. Then did my laundry and had another longwinded breakfast w/ Bindi, X and V-the-firecracker at the German Bakery.

Bindi is better and we are going to a Hindi movie in Thrivandrum today. We are taking her friend's auto-rickshaw for a few hundred rupees; It'll be nice to meet her friend/see the view from the mini-UPS truck.. (Two years ago Bob and I went into the city many times on the bus, which is totally chaotic and interesting and Rs 5. It's the #111 if I'm not mistaken. Next week if I feel good/have the courage / can find a co-conspirator I'm going to try the bus again. Not a good idea to do alone, though -- even in Indian dress [no one will harm you, it's just taxing to be stared at like that and have no one to elbow in the ribs and complain to]).

OK, I will try to hit the beach now -- W and The Firecracker have a primo regular spot w/ umbrella, which I hid under yesterday -- before hitting the town.

Lots of load-shedding (power outages) lately; this computer has a tendency to go blue and shut off, so this will be brief....


We were gonna go into town today for a Hindi movie but X got sick for the first time since arriving here in November (of course it happened after she said, "I can't believe I haven't got sick yet." I knocked wood but apparently not quickly enough). She was throwing up all night after eating bindi (okra). So that is her new Indian name: Bindi. For now I'm still Satya Cacananda (Truth ShitBliss), til something else sticks, ha. The cure for lots of puking is fresh coconut juice and that is plentiful (Rs 10, vs Rs 5 in Mysore, Rs 30 in touristy Goa). It replaces electrolytes and according to Y is something they put in IV's for people who get dehydrated, etc. here. Those of you at home can get 'em for an arm and a leg at Karyn's.

Tomorrow is Saturday and a day off; perhaps we will go to a Hindi movie (if X is better; BTW she is the cutest sick person I have ever seen; pigtails and great color in her face) and a quest for a coil type (a plug-in thing to boil water; everything is closed when we get up for yoga and Y would like a nip of coffee before class (to heat the body, as there is no hot water at that time)and I have that little Indian French press thing I got in Bangalore....which will allow me to make fab South Indian-style coffee when I get home -- if I can just remember how to use the thing.

W is here -- has been coming for years -- and brought a real firecracker with him, named V. I think there are more people here from Chicago than Helsinki (tre unusal). We met them last night (when X was eating hte bindi) and this AM we had an hours-long breakfast, with lots of schtick and laughing our asses off. Again we were at the German Bakery (which sells chai by the pot), looking out over the blue blue sea. (BTW we can hear the sea from our rooms at the Sky Palace; it soothes the insomnia that I now have after kicking Tylenol PM).

I still need to explain more about Bangalore and how difficult it is for regular upper class folks to get housing and servants now that the IT people have all come back from Silicon Valley and are commanding the huge salaries and how weak the dollar is and how L. explained today that it's because of Bush's reelection plan to jump start the economy by making it easier for other countries to buy our shit, thus creating jobs and making people wanna vote for him, ugh.... This means that it is costing, if not an arm and a leg, than at least a few teeth to take the worshop here. So far tho it's well worth every cent; again I had another very intense, deep practice today despite the very aromatic woman on my left and sick sneezing man on my right (kept turning my head away when he'd let one go). And so far no pain in backbend....(knocking wood now).

OK, off to find V's umbrella and chairs....

I've done a 180 mood-wise, haven't I. I met up w/ my girls after yesterday's pissy blog-post and had lunch w/ X; the three of us have been hanging out all day. They are so sweet/funny and we rarely get a chance to hang out in Chicago because we're all busy teaching, etc. Y and I just got ripped off -- happily. She bought a *wild* beaded top for kirtan and I got a magenta and maroon bedspread thingy, which will make my cell seem like home (and make my home seem more like India). I got the guy down to half of what he was asking (to $18... BTW, the dollar SUCKS right now).... The sun and sea aren't so bad, if you wear long sleeves and take it slow. Also my first yoga practice -- primary only -- was divine. I woke up at 5 AM queasy w/ one of my famous headaches and wasn't even sure I should practice. At 6 Y knocked on my door (she's in the next room, a double) and we chatted and had some EmergenC and it was all good and I went to practice anyway and sweated out whatever it was. I can't say how much I love the yoga. And Lino (the teacher), well -- suffice to say I took my first workshop w/ him in Chicago after my dad got sick in '99 and I was out of my mind, etc. and he' s a really intuitive teacher -- compassionate w/o playing favorites or being sickening/sweet, knows just what you need, and has been my favorite out-of-town teacher ever since. After class Y and I sat down for tender coconuts (coconut juice; they hack off the top and stick a purple straw in it) and then we argued w/ a shopkeeper about prices (Y is a recovering actuary) on fruit, batteries, etc. and cleaned up (no hot water) and went to breakfast at the German Bakery, where you can watch the sea while you eat -- front row seats, the wind in your hair -- but watch out for the crows because they'll steal your food if you're not looking. I had ginger-laden chai and a protein bomb (eggs -- bad for yoga, good for fatigue) and the headache became a distant memory.

So it is breezy, warm, sunny -- kind of perfect if that's yr thing. The room is fine (albeit small) and we are all in the same lodge and it all seems to be falling in to place. X really knows her way around -- we ate at Lonely PLanet last night (healthy food, next to a rice paddy that's home to a turkey) which reminded me of two years ago.. only it's much nicer to eat w/ a galpal..... Of course by tomorrow or even in a few minutes I could do another 180. India magnfies everything -- even when you're on the beach (still have not dipped more than a couple of toes into the water).

I am at Lighthouse Beach in Kovalam, remembering very clearly why I did not wish to come here. The good news is that I don't have any kind of commitment (!) and can leave in a week if it still sucks. Suffice to say there was no welcome wagon. It's hot, the beach is a freak-show (nearly naked western man walking in waves reading a book, fully dressed Indian family gingerly sticking a toe in the water, silent homeless dogs lying in the sand, lounging topless European women, poor local people in yo' face selling everything you can imagine), everything here is marked up five times what it's worth, X is out, Y is sleeping and Z (me) wants attention. We're on the same floor; my room would be the one that most resembles a cell. Right now I'm just a few yards from the surf, which is rough. (I don't like that, either; the undertoe scares this Midwesterner) . I remember from last year you can't walk on the rocks because you may step on a turd ( people defecate up there). I am having a relatively mild "Why am I here?" moment, probably the first of many....

At 3'30 last night the phone started going crazy and halfway through the indecipherable conversation it went dead. Devdutt called the front desk and lo and behold! They had my luggage. It really did take just a day -- AND THEY BROUGHT IT TO US!! Good thing the shopping spree was a small one (underwear and one top only). Met my downstairs neighbor's parents today -- very, very nice (also got taken for a ride there by the rickshaw driver for Rs 30 (65 cents) Oh well). Also had an authentic breakfast of dosas and vada at Woody's. Now we're off to meet Devdutt's cousin. Tomorrow, the airport / Kovalam.

Once again I made it to India and my luggage did not. Those Germans. This time though I knew what to do and got out of the airport in less than 45 minutes, and this time I am going on a minor shopping spree (Devudtt and I have two rooms in the middle of Bangalore's shopping district). He was there at the airport to pick me up, which was like receiving a wonderful gift, and greeted me with cookies, a hug and bottled water. After a stunningly refreshing bucket-bath and a good night's sleep (thanks, Tylenol PM) I got up and did yoga up through Janu C, plus closing (this time I had the foresight to bring the mat on the plane with me; also a yoga outfit, alarm clock, toiletries and a change of clothes). Then we took an auto rickshaw to see Devdutt's aunt, who made us a lovely lunch. We saw her last time around; she is a great painter (minimalist Japanese style) -- wow, I am hearing a call to mosque at this very moment; it brings me right back to the Kaveri Lodge -- and brilliant/funny. We also saw his granny, who is tre sweat and joked about putting her into sirsasana. Then we walked around a bit and bought these great little coffee filter things (similar to a French press but there's no glass to break, is there). It's strange, how similar everything is. The minute I got off the plane I smelled that humid, burnt / incense smell and felt welcome. ALso I think I blew the customs' guy's mind when I heard him talking about dinner to a colleage and said, "Oota aita?" (Have you eaten?) Love love love it here. On Wed Dev. goes to Bangkok and I go south to Kovalam -- the land of Communists, coconuts, cashews, Catholics and the highest literacy rate in the country.....In the meantime there's more family tomorrow, plus I'm going to try to see my downstair's neighbor's family as well.....

When I was flying to Bangalore on January 2, 2002, it was just a few months after 9/11 and India and Pakistan were about to go to war over Kasmir and amassing troops at the border. They have Da Bomb, you know....Three days before this year's trip, the D aily Telegraph carried this headline:
"India, Pakistan Agree to Resume Their Dialogue." They'll be in talks next month -- their first in five years. "In 2002 both countries almost went to war and were pulled back from the brink by intensive American di p lomacy" [not exactly how the Indian papers played it, if memory serves].a

Ack! Also don't forget to bring:
flashlights
triple antibiotic
Swiss Army knife

Also it's $69 ($65 for the generic) to fill the Cipro scrip in the US... and less than $6 if you do it in India.

To get the skinny on the doings (and factional fighting) among yogis in Mysore, see http://pub42.ezboard.com/fyoga84291frm122