More Yoga

September 26, 2010

We slept in. Last night, I gave Rajjis our laundry, and with nothing to run in, we let ourselves sleep. When we woke up, we talked about our options. Initially, we had thought we might take another week's worth of yoga classes, but now that we had seen so many other classes, we weren't sure. In the end, we decided to look around. We're hoping for some cooking classes, and maybe we'll try a different kind of yoga, too.

In the courtyard of HIYC, I braided Hadas' hair, and we waited for someone to tell us to come into the hall. Sharat came out and told us to be quiet: the advanced students were coming out of a long relaxation/ meditation pose, and they were on a different plain than us.

Inside, we set up and ran through the poses as usual. I found myself even more rebellious than usual. When Sharat told me to be calm, to relax, to empty my mind, I found myself asking, Why? I know everyone says it's important to be present, to calm your thoughts, to empty your mind. But I just don't know if I agree. I don't feel beset by an active mind or too many thoughts. I don't feel exhausted. I like my daydreams. I like my thoughts. I don't want to be an empty vessel, and even though people say this means I might not be present, I'm here. I'm enjoying myself.

Perhaps I'm not as enlightened.

For lunch, Joshua and I packed a little bag with the computer and our books, and we walked into Bhagsu. Right now, we're eating lunch on a garden terrace overlooking McLeod's valley, and the wonderful waiter has given us Aloo Palak and Shahi Paneer with Paranath (a soft chapati with onions baked in). Behind us, the autorickshaws are beeping their horns and motoring over the potholes. I'm not sure what we'll do for the rest of the day.

September 25, 2010

We woke up early again to run. This time, we took the road to Triund. The hill was a bit more gradual this time, but we're beginning to expect that a thirty minute run here will inevitably include 15 minutes up hill and 15 minutes down hill. They don't really do flat here.

On our run, we watched little Indian children walk to school. Tiny little boys were wearing pants with belts and button-up shirts with ties. They were adorable :) Back at the guest house, we changed and headed up the stairs to yoga.

With each progressive day, we move a little bit faster, and we're able to do a few more asanas. Even so, Iyengar yoga - or, at least, Sharat - believes in hold each pose for at least a few minutes. It may be slow, but that doesn't mean there's no strain; my shoulders are so weak, I can barely hold them out for more than three minutes at a time.

Today, we did the usual poses, but instead of bending forward and touching our toes (ha!), we did a succession of backward bends. At first, we lay on our back, next we used a chair to bend over, and after that, we were ready to put our hands up by our necks, flex our butts and lift up. Move your butts! Sharat says. We had to do backwards bridge 20 times. The woman next to me was serene the whole time; I grunted and grimaced and tried not to complain.

Once we had bent our backs into submission, we tried a new upside-down asana. This one is called the plough because you stand on your shoulders and then bend your legs over a bench over your head like an 'L.' Theoretically, someone could grab hold of your feet and use your head to plow the ground. This one didn't hurt quite as much as the plain shoulder stand because there's not quite as much pressure on the neck, but my feet fell asleep. Right around the time Sharat was telling us to 'feel the peace,' I was praying for him to tell us we could come out of the pose.

Yoga ended in Namaste, and we went back to the guest house for another lunch by Rajjis. Before we headed to the rooftop, I took a shower and we gathered our postcards. As we watched the heavy mist play peek-a-boo with the mountains, we wrote. Although I enjoy the process of selecting, buying, assigning, and sending postcards, I haven't quite found the right informative yet quippy style. There's so little space! A couple of times, I began to write something and then I read over it. It made no sense, but it was in pen, so it'll have to do.

Eshai and Hadas came up to join us again for lunch. Eshai wasn't feeling well, and Sharat had made him take some spices to settle his stomach. Nevertheless, he was still smiley and chatty, and after lunch, we played Takki (which is a lot like UNO) for an hour or so.

That morning, I had woken up fretting about my Tibetan-Kimono thingy. When I had tried it on again to show Joshua, I had noticed it was a little tight in the shoulders. I'm skinnier now than I usually am in the US, and I don't want it to be too small to wear back at home. Joshua - the patient and kind husband that he is - agreed to walk back to McLeod to exchange it for a slightly bigger size.

Back in McLeod, all the stalls were still open. I exchanged the wrap without any fuss, and after, we walked the streets just browsing. We finally found something we thought Sarah might like, and I also found a lovely bracelet: it's gold, and it has a hindi mantra for mothers written on it. The man told me he would sell it to me for 100 rupees. I didn't say anything, and he dropped it to 80. Joshua looked at him and said, I have 60. So I got the bracelet for a little more than a dollar.

At another stall, we found a pair of brass rings, and now Joshua and I are staining the middle finger of our right hands slightly green. We bought a couple more postcards, and Joshua found an inexpensive and incredibly soft Tibetan shawl. We walked back to Dharamkot before we could spend any more.

As we climbed the hill, a few school children were making their way home. A couple girls were walking right behind us, and when I heard them breathing hard, I told them that made me feel much better: if they live here and climbing this hill is still hard, I'm not so pathetic. They laughed and told me it's always hard. We exchanged names and talked about how cute small monkeys are.

In Dharamkot, we selected one of the only remaining restaurants. We've eaten at most of the others. At The Friendly Planet, we discovered a limited Indian menu, and although I ordered a Palak spinach dish, there was nothing green on my plate. We weren't too impressed.

Afterwards, we went in search of an Internet Cafe so Joshua could call his dad, and on the way, we ran into one of our yoga-mates buying a coconut, tearing off the hair, and trying to figure out how to get the coconut milk out. I was so enchanted with the idea of a real, fresh coconut, I bought one too.

While Joshua called, I read, and when he had finished, we headed back to the guest house. In the kitchen, Eshai and Hadas were eating dinner, and went to find Rajjis to see if he had any pointers on cracking open my coconut. Using an allen-wrench, he punctured the top, and we drained the coconut water into a couple of cups. I gave him and his friends a couple of the cups, and we lifted them, opa! Lechaim! Cheers! Once we had drank it all, Rajjis cracked the coconut on a stone. I gave them some of the flesh in thanks, and then I headed back to the kitchen to talk with Eshai and Hadas and pick apart my coconut. We drank some tea, and when it got late, we headed off to bed.

September 24, 2010

We woke up a little earlier to run before yoga. Heading uphill, we met the main road and headed in the direction we had never been. Running downhill, we met a village and a couple of monkeys, and after 15 minutes, we arrived in McLeod Ganj. We didn't realize where we were until we arrived in the city center; the road loops around a steep hill, and on one side, McLeod Ganj over looks a cloud-filled valley. On the other side, Dharamkot and Bhagsu work their way up a mountain side. I'm still not sure where Dharamkot ends and Bhagsu begins... Either way, you arrive in one of them whether you turn West or East in McLeod Ganj.

Running back up the hill towards our guest house, we huffed and puffed. It's quite a climb when you're just walking, so we were exhausted by the time we had reached the top. At one point, we ran by a large monkey, and Joshua said hello. The monkey bared its teeth and slapped the rock next to him, and Joshua received an extra burst of energy to sprint up ahead.

Back at the guest house, we change for yoga and walked over to the HIYC. The courtyard is lovely; with a temple, green gardens, and freshly painted dorms, halls, and bathrooms, the place is a little oasis of calm. People walk about in their Aladdin pants and hemp bracelets, wishing each other Namaste, and inside, you can hear Sharat telling the advanced class that their breath is centered, their faces are relaxed, and they have achieved relaxation by letting go.

We sat and chatted with Eshai and Hadas while we waited, and after a few minutes, one of Sharat's helpers told us to come in and set up our mats very quietly. It wasn't until I was sitting cross-legged on my green mat that I noticed Sharat lying with his feet casually crossed on the wall above him, resting on his shoulders, and sleeping deeply. One by one, each of us settled onto our mats, and the helpers nervously twittered around Sharat. I think they must have had to pull straws to decide who would be the one to wake him.

The lovely helper with a curly mop of hair and smart glasses drew the short straw, but when Sharat awoke, he didn't seem perturbed. He fell out of his pose with an agile somersault and looked out at the ready class, surprised. He told us good morning.

We began by bending at the butt and resting our wrists on bars. I'm no good at this; I have zero flexibility in my hamstrings. Next, we moved to standing poses. I'm fine at these unless there's bending required (again, my hamstrings) or we have to hold out our arms for long, extended periods of time. I take back my words from yesterday: it's not that yogis don't hold any stock in 'pain is gain,' it's that they choose to subdue the pain and pretend it's not there. No gritting teeth aloud. As you might predict, I'm REALLY no good at this.

Next, we moved to poses where we tuck our feet under our butts and arch backwards. With hips that are as happy in socket as out, I'm fine at these. We did a couple of twisty poses with bands to make us twist more, and I discovered a little lower back rigidity; Joshua discovered that he was a model of perfection. I think he may have even got a thumbs-up from Sharat.

We moved into the shoulder wall stand pose. Although Sharat and his little helpers say this is the most important pose, it's also the pose that hurts the most. You're supposed to situate yourself so that all of your body weight is centered on your shoulders and your back is straight. This means that you have to have pads and blankets under your head and shoulders, but even then, it feels like my neck is about to snap. We lay there, propped up like that for 10 excruciating minutes. Relax your face, says Sharat, breath deeply. No wrinkled foreheads. Yeah, right.

It's all down hill after the shoulder stand. Honestly, I don't even really remember what else we do. We lay contorted in some position and listen to Sharat telling us how calm we are. I fantasize about lunch. Finally, he tells us to sit up, Namaste, pick everything up and put it away.

Back at the guest house, we arrange for a lunch of Thali made by Rajjis. Up on the rooftop, we sit and admire the view of the enormous, tree-filled mountains, and we chat with Eshai and Hadas. I ask them how they think it changes their culture to have a mandatory three year draft. Does it make Israelis militant? Is that why I've sometimes found them abrupt?

Eshai has lots to say about this. Yes, he says. Chutspah, Hadas says. Israelis are direct, because in the military, you learn to say exactly what you mean. There is no fuss, no pretension. There are lives at stake. When you are 18, you are made to stand guard. You are given a weapon, taught how to fire it, and then told that you hold the lives of your friends in your hands as you keep guard. It's a great amount of responsibility, and it changes you. It changes everyone. Eshai says that the military is that one common experience that draws Israelis together. It teaches them morals and an ethic, and even now, he is a part of the reserves and he will be until he is forty.

I found this all fascinating. It's so strange to think of a country that is so young and so small. They are able to speak about their history in terms of three generations: how their grandfathers behaved, how their fathers changed, and how they've reacted.

Lunch was delicious: Rajjis even made the stir-fried vegetables to order, without cauliflower in them for me. Afterwards, we parted ways again, and Joshua and I walked to McLeod Ganj.

At Peace House Coffee, Joshua ordered a piece of brownie cake, a grilled cheese and vegetable sandwich, and a lassi. I shared his cake and ordered a hot lemon honey and ginger tea. The cake was warm and moist and incredible. While I read The Waterless Flood (I love this book by Margaret Atwood. It's both apocolyptic and funny.), Joshua wrote e-mails and surfed the web.

Once we had finished, we went in search of a birthday gift for Sarah. The temporary stalls were starting to close for the evening, but we still had a couple of hours before everything was locked up. While nothing screamed 'Sarah!' we found quite a bit that screamed 'buy me instead,' and we spent our time trying on inexpensive, handmade clothing. I fell in love with a Tibetan kimono-like wrap with bell buttons, and it took me three different shops to find the right size and price. Joshua bought a pair of soft pants for yoga and laundry days, and he also found a couple of great t-shirts. My favorite is pale, bright blue with an orange graphic of Ganesh, the elephant god.

A few hundred rupees poorer and still no gift for Sarah, we racked up on postcards for a mass send-out, and located a Tibetan restaurant for dinner. I ordered Thukpa and tea, and Joshua ordered a fried noodle dish. The Thukpa looked and tasted a lot like Pho, but it wasn't nearly as good as the Thukpa we had had in Leh. When we'd finished, laid out all of the postcards and began our selection. This is one of my favorite parts; we try and figure out who would like what best, or which one reminds us most of someone.

We walked back to our guest house in the dark. Joshua has regained his appetite in full, so before we left the shops of McLeod, he bought a Snickers, and I looked curiously at the cigarette selection. I had heard of the clove cigarettes that were so popular, and I wanted to know which ones popped and fizzled as the cloves burned. The shop keeper told me, and then he asked us if it was true that Americans needed to pay the government in order to grow vegetables in their own back yard. We laughed and told him no, but as I walked away, I thought: you know what? I bet the big agro-businesses would love that. What a scary thought.

Back at the guest house, we read for a little bit more and then fell asleep with our books resting on our chests. I have to say: this is the life :)