Yoga Time in Dharamkot

September 23, 2010

I am a yoga ignoramus. Seriously. What I know about yoga might fill a thimble, but don't hold your breath. Before this morning, here is what I could tell you about yoga:

1) There is something called 'Sun Salutations.' I did them with Caitlin on the beach in Oregon. It involved lifting your hands up to the sky, some kind of lunge action, twisting your body, and then maybe arching your back?

2) When I did the 'Sun Salutations,' my body was really irritated with me for trying to roll my shoulders back and stand upright. After a couple of decades of some serious slouching, 'opening up my lungs' actually makes me feel short of breath. Ironic, I know.

3) Yoga is a series of postures that are supposed to do... Something. I'm not really sure what. I've heard some New-Agey gibberish about aligning chakras and securing purity of mind, body, and soul, but what the hell does that mean? Will somebody please speak plain English?

4) Yoga falls in this no-man's land between exercise and 'relaxation.' I'm not sure if you're following me, but I was always pretty sure that exercise and relaxation sat on opposite sides of the spectrum. I'm especially confused because I don't think yoga is particularly rigorous or invigorating, and yet people who do yoga have these incredibly toned bodies. Will someone please explain?

5) Lots of yuppies like yoga; I'm not sure why. Women wearing natural fibers particularly enjoy carrying their yoga mats from Whole Foods to yoga class.

6) Yoga comes from India, and it's part of a whole philosophy/lifestyle. I don't know what the philosophy is, and I don't know about the lifestyle either.

7) Yup. That's about it.

Here are some of the reasons (assumptions) why I've always been pretty sure yoga and I won't mix:

1) It's not strenuous. As I may have mentioned (over and over again), I prefer things to be strenuous.

2) Most people who do yoga seem pretty in-tune with their bodies. The 'pain is gain' philosophy doesn't really seem to apply here.

3) Most people who do yoga are either not very goal oriented, or if they are, consider 'relaxation' a goal.

4) It requires a degree of flexibility.

After my first yoga class ever, here is what I have learned:

1) I'm square (as in, "she's square.").

2) Iyengar Yoga and Hatha Yoga are on one side of the spectrum; while these two concentrate on slow, precise movements, Ashtanga Yoga tends to be faster and less precise. And on that note, there are a ton of different kinds of yoga. They all have different philosophies and movements, but I'm not sure what they are.

3) Yoga postures are called 'asanas.'

4) It is very important to make miniscule movements such as 'stretching out your toes,' 'pushing through your heels,' and 'tilting your pelvis.'

5) Iyengar Yoga uses props like blocks of wood, stacked blankets and pillows, bands, and ropes.

6) Most yoga follows a certain structure: you begin with standing asanas, move to kneeling or sitting asanas, somewhere in there you try to stand on your head, and then you move to relaxation poses where you try (unsuccessfully, if you're me) to relax every muscle in your body.

7) Sharat Arora, our teacher, learned from Iyengar himself. I think he might sort of be a big deal.

8) You shouldn't eat or drink anything before you do yoga in the morning; you should go to the bathroom first; you should wear warm enough clothes.

Here is what I'd like to know:

1) Why am I doing this? No. Seriously. I'm not trying to be snarky; obviously, I'm here, and I'm curious, but I'd really like to know why people do this. I'd like a better explanation than 'purification' or 'alignment.' What am I purifying? Why? What am I aligning? Why?

2) What are all the different kinds of yoga? Why are they different? What's different about them?

3) what is the purpose of different asanas?

4) How does yoga fit into Indian cultural and religious history? What are yogis?

***

We woke up just before 9 AM, and headed over to the Himalayan Iyengar Yoga Center (HIYC). In the courtyard, we waited with the other beginning students, and the Center's dogs came around, sniffing for food and begging for pets. We introduced ourselves to a couple who sat next to us and discovered that they're living in the room right behind us. Eshai and Hadas are Israeli and recently married. We talked a little about what we planned to do in India, and then Sharat came out.

Sitting in a circle, we all patiently waited while Sharat shuffled through our registration papers, pausing to read excerpts here and there. After a bit, he began to call out our names and ask us about any medical conditions we had listed. Going around the circle, we heard about our new classmate's sore backs, knees, and necks. A few of the students had been in serious car accidents; there were slipped discs, fused ankles, torn ligaments, and knee surgeries. One woman had stepped off the bus on her way here to pee off the side of the road, and in the dark with her pants down, she had fallen down the hill. 'Yeah,' she said, 'I had a heckuva time gettin' here.'

About two-thirds of the class are Israeli. When one of them doesn't understand Sharat's English, a few of them look over and offer alternate translations in Hebrew. Sharat commented on a couple of names saying, 'that's an Israeli name I've not heard before.' There is one Indian man, maybe a couple of Europeans, and the rest of us are American. I think there might be about 30 in the class.

When we finished publicly airing our various ailments, Sharat ordered us into the hall. Taking off our shoes, we went inside. The room is lovely; with concrete yellow floors and walls, a wooden ceiling and lots of paper-globe lights, and plenty of windows, the place is airy and welcoming. We all picked a green mat lying on the floor.

Standing on an elevated stage, Sharat instructed us how to stand correctly. We stretched our toes and pushed our heels. We measured the distance between our feet. We practiced maybe 4 or 5 different standing asanas, and as we moved, his assistant teachers came around to correct our postures. I still felt strangely out of breath when I rolled my shoulders back and stood up straight.

A thin, small European woman demonstrated a couple of the sitting, laying, and upside down asanas, and we watched as she easily contorted her body into the various positions. When we tried, I was not nearly so flexible. Apparently, the most important asana was the one where we built up a pad with blankets next to the wall, lifted our legs above our heads, and used a band to keep our elbows together. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and my neck hurt the whole time.

During the final asana, a relaxation pose, a couple people fell asleep and started snoring. I just lay there, listening to Sharat tell me to relax my eye-sockets thinking, 'well how the fuck do you do that?' Finally, Sharat told us to sit up, Namaste, we should go away a feel more relaxed and energized; see you tomorrow at 9:30 AM.

We put away all the props, put on our shoes, and walked out of the hall. No one really talked. I tried to figure out if I felt both relaxed and energized. I think that might be a nice feeling, but I'm pretty sure I have no idea how to identify it. The class had been 3 hours long, and I didn't have strong feelings either way: I wasn't in love, and I didn't hate it. I just didn't really know what to think.

Back at our guest house, we changed clothes and headed back outside to find some food. We ran into Eshai and Hadas on our way out and decided to all eat together at a local restaurant just a little bit down the road. Once we got there, Hadas gave us some pointers on Indian food: 'paneer' is cheese, 'aloo' is potato, 'gobi' is cauliflower (and therefore, satan), 'palak' is spinach, 'dal' is lentils, 'korma' is coconut-y, and chapati is like naan but thinner and dryer. I copied Hadas and ordered thali, a plate of rice with a side of dal, mixed curry vegetables, and curd (yogurt), and Joshua and Eshai ordered mali kofta, potato in a savory red sauce. The food was delicious, and while we ate, we talked about our weddings and religion.

Eshai and Hadas got married a couple of months ago. They met two years ago at 'a spiritual retreat at the Dead Sea' and 'fell in love at first sight.' Eshai proposed in Rome, but Hadas thinks that he waited too long. At their wedding, they had 300 people, and all they were all in some way related. After their reception, they had the ceremony, and after that, they jumped in a pool with all of their wedding finery on. The rest of the celebration was a pool party.

While Eshai is an atheist, Hadas ate a relatively kosher meal, foregoing any dairy. Eshai believes religion is a tool of manipulation, but Hadas didn't look so sure. While Eshai and Joshua chatted about their jobs, I asked Hadas a little more about her family. Her mother moved to Israel from Iraq when she was only 1, but both her mother and father spoke in Arabic as their secret language. At Shabbat, they sang the prayers in both Arabic and Hebrew. Of course this was normal for Hadas, but as she told me, all sorts of assumptions were crumbling in my head. I had always considered 'Arab' and 'Jew' two opposing identities, but apparently, that's untrue.

After chatting for a while, we paid the bill and went our separate ways. Joshua and I decided to explore a bit, and we headed in the direction of Bhagsu. So far, we've discovered that Indian villages don't really have centers or squares. Shops and restaurants might gather on the same street, but otherwise, it's hard to tell if you're really in the 'heart' of the village. Bhagsu seemed a bit bigger than Dharamkot, but everything else seemed pretty similar. There were signs up everywhere for every kind of class imaginable: silversmithing, intuitive painting, tantric meditation, ashtanga yoga, power yoga, hatha yoga, intensive yoga, casual yoga, aryuvedic medicine, aryuvedic massage, hindi tattoos, mendhi painting, Indian classical music, Indian cooking... A lot of the signs were written in Hebrew, and as we walked by the restaurants, we saw 'Israeli Salad' and 'Israeli Cuisine' advertised nearly everywhere. The streets smelled vaguely of weed, and the handicraft and souvenir shops sold bongs and clothing made from natural fibers dipped in tie-dye. Dread locks, Tevas, and Aladin-pants abound.

Past a temple with a pool out front, we followed the signs for the waterfall. Around the corner, an impossibly tall and long waterfall fell between two very green mountains. We followed the stone steps up. At the top, the 'very, very chill Shiva Cafe where you can eat or drink or just smoke all day' sat in a foggy oasis of green, draping plants, hindi murals, and monkeys. We paused a bit to admire the foggy, jungle view, and then we decided to follow the path that cut straight across the mountain, hoping it might lead back to Dharamkot and our guest house.

Passing a couple of small temples and few more hippie cafes, we found our way to upper Bhagsu and then Lower Dharamkot. Eventually, we spied our guest house and picked our way over a stream. Along the way, we picked a few canine followers, and they safely guided us back to our home. Changing into running clothes, we went on a short 30 minute jog up the steep hill past our guesthouse, down and around to McLeod Ganj, and then back up the steep hill to our guest house. At one point, Joshua said hello to a monkey on the side of the road, and not impressed, the monkey bared his teeth and beat the stone next to him with his hands. Joshua shied like a horse and sped a little faster up the hill. Running by monks, I decided I wouldn't wear shorts again. I felt like a hussy baring my legs :)

Back at the guest house, we showered. We each had about 3 minutes of hot water each, so we tried to keep them short. By the time we got dressed, it was already dark, so we headed out the door for Dharamkot. At the Moonlight Cafe, we sat on the balcony and watched the nearly full moon rise over the steep mountains of Bhagsu. Joshua ordered Paneer Palak (cheese spinach for those of you who are keeping track), and I ordered Vegetable Biryani (which is kind of like a vegetarian Indian Jambalayah). The food was gorgeous, and to drink, Joshua ordered another Lhassi (he's pretty much disregarded recommendations to not eat unpasteurized dairy products in India). While we ate and tried to remember all the asanas we had learned that morning (we tried to draw pictures and list directions in our notebook), a group of Israelis sat cross-legged on the floor, eating Indian food, smoking pot, playing cards, and laughing a lot.

When we had finished eating, we walked back to the guest house. Along the way, Joshua picked up a couple of candy bars. 'Bounty' is kind of like Almond Joy, and 'Yummy' is, as Joshua says, a poor second to a Snickers. I'm starting to like a little something sweet before I sleep :)

September 22, 2010

Yesterday morning, we woke up a little before 9 AM, and I quickly got dressed to meet the monk. Joshua went ahead of me to eat breakfast and load pictures at the Green Hotel Cafe, while I waited on the steps in front of our guest house. At about 9:10, the monk came down, brushing his teeth. He said, '10?' I nodded my head and told him that I would be waiting at the Green Hotel Cafe.

Finding Joshua, we ordered breakfast, and then I went off in search of a notebook and pens for my English lesson. Back at the Cafe, Joshua ate his Tibetan Porridge with Bananas (Tsampa) and I had my lemon and honey pancake. We shared a slice of walnut cake, which was absolutely delicious. Waiting for the monk, we browsed through the pictures, and I put together a little English diagnostic - I had no idea how much English the monk might know.

By 10:30, I was pretty sure that the monk wasn't coming. I was a little disappointed, but the night before, Joshua and I had seen a sign for an 'English Conversation Hour' held at the Hope Education Center. Apparently, they always need English volunteers. I'll just bring my pen and paper there :) We read and surfed the web for a little bit longer, sipping our honey, lemon, and ginger tea, and a little bit before noon, we paid and headed back to our guest house to pack up.

Just before we left the guest house, we went into the office to pay. The man at the desk was the monk. He gave me his huge smile, and I figured that there had been some sort of language misunderstanding. Oh well; Namaste. Joo-lay.

The hike out of McLeod Ganj is pretty steep, and although we're only at 5,000 - 6,000 ft, I could still feel the altitude. We slowly made our way up the hill, passing monkeys as we went. It began to rain. On the other side of the hill, we passed the Himalayan Iyengar Yoga Center (HIYC) and just a few meters a way, we came across the Kamal Guest House. Although I had wanted to shop around a bit before we settled on our next guest house, when the kind, smiling guest house keeper poked his head out of the detached kitchen and asked us if we'd like to see a room, we agreed. Rajjis led us up a staircase to a balcony and into a small room with plenty of windows and an attached bathroom with a hot-water geyser. For 250 rupees a night, the room was ours. I tested the bed, and like usual, it was hard as a rock. We took it.

Shedding our packs, we decided to try and make this room as homey and clean as possible. We put everything in a proper place, and afterwards, we sat on the bed and surveyed our surroundings. From our window, we can see the HIYC; otherwise, everything is green. It was also raining, and the fog made the trees appear rootless. It was damp, but lovely.

Happy to have a space where we planned to live for more than a couple of days, we decided to stay put for a bit. While I caught up on my writing, Joshua sat outside on the balcony and chatted to our neighbors, two young Italians. They told him, 'in India, we have found the world's second best food.' Naturally, Joshua didn't even have to ask them about the world's first best food: their Italians.

After a while, Joshua came back in and took a nap while I continued to write. Outside the window, I spied a couple of people wandering into the HIYC, and desperate to sign up for the yoga class, I followed suit. In the courtyard of the HIYC, five or so women were grilling one of the yoga assistants: 'why are the classes so expensive?' 'will I have individual attention?' 'how long are the classes?' 'which asanas do you use?' The man patiently answered each of their questions and then looked up at me, 'how can I help you?'

When I told the man that I'd like to sign up, please, and yes, I have the payment in full right here, the women started to get flustered. They all decided to sign up too, and as the man handed me the registration form, one of them took it right out of his fingers. He assured them that the hall can fit up to 50 students, and so far, there were only a dozen signed up.

While I waited for an extra pen, I walked down to the edge of the HIYC's gardens and called up to our window, telling Josh to come on over and bring a couple pens with him. We filled out the forms together which didn't take very long at all; for all the questions that asked, 'have you done yoga before?' 'if so, what kind?' 'have you meditated before?' 'if so, what kind?' our answers were a simple 'no, n/a.'

We paid the yoga assistant and headed back to the guest house. Now that we had signed up, I felt a huge relief. The main reason that we had left Leh a couple of days earlier and done the whole 36 hour bus ride in one blow was so that we could take this yoga class. I wrote for a little longer, and then Joshua finally demanded that we go and eat.

Taking a footpath, it took us about 10 minutes to find our way to Dharamkot. Walking by the restaurants and shops we were struck by how much Hebrew we saw and heard. Nearly everyone we encountered was Israeli. Apparently, Dharamkot and Bhagsu are Little Israel, and most of the Israelis here are also hippies: we could smell weed in the air, Bob Marley was playing, and most of the cafes had names like 'Friendly,' 'Moonlight,' and 'The Happy Oven' with big, psychedelic murals emblazoned on the walls.

We picked a cafe that smelled vaguely of cat piss and ordered Korma Navratti and Eggplant Masala. While we waited for our order, we looked up at the tack-board above us and wondered what 'Couples Only Tantric Yoga,' 'Real Chill Indian Classical Music Concert,' and 'Intuitive Painting' might be. At the other tables, people spoke in Hebrew.

The food was delicious, and when we had finished, we walked over to the Internet Cafe to post my writing. The keyboard had Hebrew letters taped to the keys, and when we tried to load my blog, everything was in Hebrew and listed right to left. By the time we figured out how to change the default language, the connection was lost, and we ended up just giving up. We walked home in the foggy dark, watching the lights of Dharamkot and Bhagsu glimmer through the tall pine trees.