A Midsummer Night´s Dream

Malmö here I come! Four hours of whizzing past lush green pastures and cute farm houses and NO penises or mountains of depressing garbage along the train tracks. I sat on the bench at the train station with my backpack WIDE open and didn´t worry one minute about scoundrels. Cleaner than ever, and comfortable chairs and magazines and food cars with beer and wine! ooh yeah I could get used to train rides like this. I was sitting in the quiet area? This exists? I even had to ask someone, Are there assigned seats? She looked at me like I was an alien. Okay. I get it. Or. gan. ized.
So, I headed down to the south of Sweden cause I heard it was beautiful,(too true) and two friends Lovisa and Freja that I met at Sadhana live down in Skäne.I arrived on the perfect midsummer´s day. The longest day of the year in Sweden. Sunny and chilly and windy and hailing? Yeah apparently that´s normal. I trekked through the ghost town of Malmö on midsummer through the plazas filled with amazing sculptures and statues. It was strange for things to be so empty. Everyone flees to the countryside to celebrate midsummer and so the town reminded me of walking through UVillage on a sunday morning before anything opened. Everything was still there, there was just no movement. The city was still. It could have been weird but it was actually quite lovely, none of the hustle and bustle of the tons of shops, I could gaze into all the closed store fronts and wander and wander until I got to my hostel. My hostels in Sweden just keep on getting better and better by the way. This one was kind of a walk, but I had a four bedroom dorm all to myself decorated of course head to toe in Ikea, and the beds ohhhh the beds. I want to write poetry on the blissfulness of the sleep on the hostel beds in Sweden. Its something magical. And this time around I decided to go for the breakfast. In all the hostels in Sweden you have a delicious breakfast buffet which you can buy for around 7bucks. You also have to pay to rent linens at the hostels here, but since I have my own towel, pillowcase and sleepsheet I figured the money I save on that can now go to delicious breakfast! And when I first arrived I just wanted to shop for my own shit but since the whole town was closed I just rolled with the hostel brekkie. Ohhh good toasted bread with oats and nuts in it, covered in warm melting butter and rasberry jam that tastes like pie. Thin savory slices of cheese, tangy apple juice, fresh melon. Make your own museli with rasins and crunchiness and the best of all is the strong, real coffee that I havent had in ages, none of this nescafe ho ha that they have in India.
After indulging in a long night´s sleep and a long, lingering breakfast I set out to traipse. I hadn´t heard back from my friends and didn´t want to head all the way to their town and not see them so in the end I just decided to explore Malmö on my own. Apparently Malmö is Sweden´s first fair trade city, but all the shops were closed so I didn´t even get to ask anyone how you make a whole city fair trade, etc. But the coffee I had was fair trade and it was delicious so I guess I got a little taste? of it. I found myself walking through the banks of this lovely park. The whole place was like a setting for a Hans Christian Andersen Fairy Tale. Snow White and Goldilocks and the Little Mermaid had to be just around the bend. Geese with bright orange beaks taking over the water banks and paddling back and forth in the tow of the river. Flowers small and white that smell like the inklings of springtime in Reno and make me miss home terribly. I find a quiet dock and sit in the sunlight and write and draw for an hour, until the weather turns seattle style and starts raining for a bit. It is so quiet I could hear the creaking of the wood under the flow of the water, a distant dog barking, geese honking, I could hear the wind rustling through the tall river grass. I laughed out loud to myself that I was really in this place. Then I turn the bend, and whats that? An old fashioned windmill? Is Sweden serious? Does it try to look like a postcard all the time or is it just a coincidence? Funny thing is I found a postcard later of this exact spot.

I made it all the way to the ocean and stared out at the bridge that takes you from Malmö to Copenhagen. Everybody wave at Denmark! The water was such a deep dark blue and the wind blew furiously splashing it up cold against the rocks. A good day for kites as some people were finding out. I walked around the waterfront and checked out all the amazingly cute apartments with bright crayon colors and impecible design, I saw the Turning Torso Malmö´s most famous building which is actually pretty cool. I was walking along the oceanside and all of a sudden movie style out of nowhere romantic music began playing and getting louder and louder till finally this woman was belting ballads where is that coming from? I looked all around me. There was no one. I finally climbed over the hill where it seemed sound was coming from to see these speakers in the grass just playing music. But no one was around. WHAT. Its nice, but who is this music for? Anyways...I made it home after trekking completely around the city, exhausted and made myself some spagetti.

I had this nice plan of just chillin for the evening, writing some postcards, going to bed early to catch my morning bus back to Stockholm. The I was in the TV room and meet Mai, an american girl from where? Of course Seattle. And her friend Susanna who is Swedish-American and has also lived in Seattle for like the last fourteen years. What a small world. So we chat about the two countries and healthcare and Swedish etiquette, etc. They invite me out with them that night. And of course I go. I´ve been wandering by myself all day long and could use some girl time. Especially Seattle girl time- boo ya. So we get all dressed up, luckily I bought some cheap flats in India and can finally rock one of the dresses I got there and we go out for dinner. At the light out hour of 8pm. I had one the most delicious Swedish plank of a meal. And I mean that straight up. It was called the vegetarian plank. About a foot and a half of eggplant and veggies baked under vast layers of delicious cheese. Sided with mashed potatoes squeezed out frosting style to look pretty then baked, with some crazily decadent Swedish sauce. And a roasted tomato, and freshly just slightly steamed bright green broccoli and asparagus. OH WOW. I havent eaten this good in a long ol time. And we shared a bottle of white wine. Granted the meal cost about as much as one night of accomodation for me, but sometimes you just have to enjoy a good meal, and company, and delicious wine. These girls are so much fun and we sat around chatting while Mai got hit on by every guy in sight, and then went dancing at the Cuba Cafe. Dancing hmm, more like watching this Edward James Olmos look alike with a profound mullet shake it like Shakira in his skin tight all white bellbottoms outfit. Quite fun though to drink strawberry mojitos and get to dance in public and all while it isnt quite dark out. And did I mention that this spot was in the middle of a park in Malmö- everything just HAS to be cute here doesnt it?
Anyways, I had a lovely time in only two days and got to be alone, be with friends, and be by the ocean. Pretty Pretty good.
Im back in Stockholm heading to wwoof for two weeks, so check you then!

Hay Hay

HOLY shitballs I äm in Sweden! I have been walking around just smiling at the most INSANE things Ive seen in the last five months. Streets so clean that cigarette butts stand out every other block. Gorgeous hipsters that must have come out of the woom in bomber jackets and skinny jeans. Clear cool blue water with no garbage (or bodies) in it. Everything runs so freaking smoothly here. I got off the plane, walked outside, hopped on an express bus to downtown Stockholm, where I got the metro a few blocks from my hostel. Which is in the middle of a freaking gorgeous Sound of Music looking park where men (MEN!) push trolleys filled with babies, and gorgeous women in flowing dresses ride bicycles past. The first day I was here I went to the grocery store and bought strawberries, a loaf of bread, museli, soy milk, vegan cheese!, spinach and olive oil and have been making picnics and traipsing about leisurely. The bed I sleep in is so comfortable that I can sleep for ten hours every night. Although, midsummer is two days away and so the sun doesnt go down until like 1am and then only a little darker blue and then it starts getting light again. Its so surreal. The land of eternal sunshine these days. So when I arrived the plan was of course to stay awake until the sun went down, you know, to avoid jet lag and get assimilated? kinda tricky to do if the sun never goes down, and finally at like 10pm when outside it looked like eh, 3 in the afternoon I finally called it quits and crashed.
My hostel is like something out of Hansel and Gretel, white trimmed orange buildings and cute older European couples holding hands and walking around the beautiful gardens and having beers out front. Two lovely german girls share the room with me and Im meeting one tonight to go to Ice Bar. Which is exactly what it sounds like. A bar made of ice, and with the entrance fee you äre given a parka and one free beverage. And you better for like 20 bucks. Also, another thing- It is SHOCKING to see public displays of affection. After not even seeing members of the opposite sex holding hands, public make-outs at the metro tunnel suddenly seem so odd and scandalous. But I love it. I love all the pimped out rockstar babes walking around with bleach blonde hair and leather. I love all the tall business men in suits carrying laptops and chatting feverishly on their cell phones.
Yesterday I stopped for some Black Licorice Ice Cream. Which is totally delicious by the way. Yes Dad- be jealous. And sat down and watched this motley crew of dudes stand around and play chess on a massive scale- somewhere in between regular and harry potter style.
It is taking a little getting used to being- or rather looking so much like everyone here. I blend so well that everyone assumes I'm Swedish and I sheepishly have to say, uh, I don't speak Swedish when approached by pamphleters and when buying coffee, etc. And of course walking around yesterday a french couple asks me for directions. And the funny thing about this is, I was actually lost at the moment, looking for the thrift store, but eh, they didn't have to know that.
I went to H&M in the land where it was founded and bought a new complete line of underwear. It was luxury and decadence like I havent allowed myself in so long. And let me tell you, Sweden is proud of their H&M. In downtown Stockholm there must be like thirty stores. I had to use every bone in my body to not go balls out crazy with the shopping. And luckily I resisited cause later that day I was walking around Zinkensdaam, where my hostel is and stumbled upon a second hand shop. Um. Hello heaven. And it seems that another thing that the Swedes have in common with me, other than pasty skin, is short legs and a big ass. Because I tried on five pairs of jeans at this thrift store and every single pair fit like a glove. So I bought two pairs. And a hillarious shirt with an anchor on it. And a belt. All for half of what it would've cost for one pair of jeans at H&M. The ironic thing is that one of the pairs of jeans is originally from there. Oh how I love the thrift.
Stockholm is also an artist's wildest dream. Good design is everywhere and it is valued as an important part of life. Everything from the garbage cans to the metro station to the museums are beautiful, creative and well designed. In a nutshell everything is nice to look at here.
I also read in my lonely planet that Swedes drink more milk than any other country in the world! And more coffee than any other country with the exception of Finland. This makes sense as cute cafes are abundant and the coffee here is phenomenal I must say. As I walk around and stare in the shop windows the smells of Sweden surround me. This whole city smells like a delicious bakery. Sweet cinammon rolls and coffee and the occasional tinge of a cigarette whirl around in the air. And flowers and oh! was that a bird call? I swear this cannot be real.
One thing I miss about India is the fact that people talk to you. No one really talks to each other here unless you have to buy something or if you already know them. Which is fine. After all the madam! money change! its nice to be ignored. But I know that I can't do it forever. Luckily I'm heading down to Skäne to visit Freja and Louvisa tomorrow so I'll get some human contact. And then I'm wwoofing for a few weeks and they HAVE to talk to me there, so I'm good.
I was sitting in the train station today, waiting for my number to come up so I could buy my train ticket. Yeah thats how you buy train tickets here, you dont shove past ten seventies-style greasy-haired dirtbags to be given a slip of paper or a no madam- train not possible today. You sit and when your number is called you buy your very expensive ticket for the express train and you get your youth discount and everything. But while I was waiting I watched this little and I must say rather chubby, rosy-cheeked blonde girl throw a MASSIVE tantrum. She was like a female version of Agustus Gloop from Willy Wonka. She screamed and punched her dad in the thigh for like ten minutes. She was decked out head to toe in pink and carried a little pink tote with Princesses written on it and pictures of all the Disney princesses. Normally this would be annoying. But I just sat there amazed at the privileged life this girl has and will lead. Yeah she's a chubby little brat. But she's a girl and she can do this and when she grows up she can dress like a total slut and throw tantrums then too. If this girl was born in India... well for one she wouldn't be so fat, but her life would be a stuggle from start to finish and she would never know the pure joy of being able to choose your choices. Even if that choice is to lay on the ground screaming at the train station or eat twenty bars of Toblerone. This makes me a little sad. But I laugh anyways at fat ass actual over there (and her poor parents).
It's chilly outside and I am wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt(because I WANT to) and a coat and a scarf. And this is the middle of summer? But its great and refreshing, I think I'll go roam and check out the palace where the royal family lives, and maybe get some more coffee and biscotti- who knows. I will just go where the (clean) road takes me.

<~I Love my India~>

I have a dysfunctional lesbian love affair with India. India is a woman. Of course she is. Hot and unpredictable and haunting and mysterious and colorful. She has a long black plait with vermilion in the part and jeweled toe rings and jingly gold bracelets. India has a nose ring that glitters like the gold that twists in swirls through the bright pink of her sari. She is such a beautiful woman in fact, that she can do horrible, disgusting, shocking things to you and all you can do is love her and ask to gimme more. She's never on time, her food gives you diarrhea (yet you eat it anyway cause it's worth it), she ruins your clothes in the laundry, she uses you for money, and she makes you know yourself. She always makes you feel like you're the only girl in the room. This is also known as staring; with unrelenting deep dark eyes. Sometimes my India is abusive. She poisons you and throws you off motorbikes and doesn't let you sleep when you're really tired. But then she redeems herself by letting you share a meal with someone beautiful and bathe in her holy river and meditate in her beautiful mountainous silence. She makes you realize why you love her- because she shows you beauty at the moment that she shows you sorrow. Like when you see skinny, hungry children begging for food. And then you see them smiling radiant, earth shattering smiles at you for no reason other than they feel like it. India is bright and loves to dress in colors that inspire all to emulate her beauty. Her favorite color is red. But sometimes she wears sunflower yellow, barbie pink, apple green or saffron. She always looks her best be that on the bus, or working on the side of the road, or going to the movies. Hair combed to the side or tightly braided, colored with henna and oiled. Crisp ironed shirts and luxurious draped shawls and saris. India's favorite food is mango. But she also likes rice pudding, butter naan, malai kofta, lemon soda, masala chai, veg samosa, palak paneer and anything really really sweet and bad for you. Its like she's pregnant all the time with the food cravings. And oh does this girl have a mean streak. India has mean hot(literally) flashes and when shes getting her period- beware for the war path. She'll yell and honk her horns and argue and no she doesn't care what the fuck time it is and don't you have any sweets? India is passionate and independent and kitchy and cute. I love my India because she makes the best chai I've had in my entire life. I love my India despite and because of her faults. I love my India for the people she creates and the people I've met while with her. I'll be sad to leave her, but like a good girlfriend she'll be waiting for me when I return.

Holy City to the Holey Shitty

Last bus ride in India. At least that's what I kept telling myself as we were stuck in traffic jams in sweltering heat with sticky clothes and no wind and desperate thirst for mango juice! Katarina and I left after one last masala chai at the office to embark on the ten hour bus ride to Delhi from Rishikesh. Walking through the streets filled with pilgrims and past the Ganges and corn being roasted and red and gold bracelets I felt excited and ready to move again. After two weeks of staying in one place the travel itch had begun. One last look at the Ganga river, an adios to all my ladies and we were off! I was a bit of a shit show though- let me just say. I was about to leave my little ashram apartment- I'm all packed up and ready to go, i lock my door but my keys drop to the floor. I bent over to pick them up RIIIIIIIIIIIPPPP. There busts a massive hole in the ass of my pants. Luckily I'm wearing a long dress like Indian top and so my lazy self doesn't have to unpack my entire bag looking for new unripped pants. This hole proceeds to get bigger and bigger throughout this day of travel- as I'm hopping onto moving buses RIPPP- to the point where I'm just hoping this flimsy fabric will stay on my body long enough to make it to Delhi. Then at a rest stop I was going to pay for using the bathroom and did a slide-trip-bif up to the table and came this close to bashing my forehead against it. WHEW. chill out Liz. And my crazy grown out buzz cut of hair is looking like I just got up from a nap.Eh. All the time.
But the bus ride was very nice all in all. One last day spent listening to music and musing about life and generally smiling at the things passing rapidly past the window.Rivers and swamps and rice fields. Desolate dusty paths and men sleeping on rocks. Forests littered with the bright confetti of strewn garbage and dotted with cows grazing. Saris draped over balconies like long KISS tongues after drinking pink or green or orange kool aid. Groups of men with tank tops pulled above their nipples exposing their proud bellies- which they scratch incessantly. Kids playing cricket in village squares. Groups of goats charging at the kids as they whack the ball around. A little boy in a puddle he created from a water pump who was laying on his back smiling with glee as he wriggled around shaking his butt back and forth cooling off. Men with their backs turned peeing towards towns or forests or walls. Fruit stand after fruit stand with ripe yellow and tiny green mangoes. Bundles of lychee akin to bouquets of bright red tea roses. Women. Children. Men. Staring.
Me staring back. And smiling, sometimes sadly, at what I'm seeing.
Men squatted with brushes painting ads on brick walls. Piles of rubber tires that stretch for miles and men in the heat breaking them down with hammers. Saris saris saris. Crazy chipmunks on billboards advertising theme parks. Bags of snacks and hair oil hanging in strips flapping in the wind at cigarette stands. Bollywood movie stars enjoying refreshing Pepsi or Coke. Riverbanks decorated with the whites of flying tank tops and bedsheets. Lazy, fat water buffaloes making the blubbery trek down to the river. Boyfriends on motorbikes with trim mustaches and plaid shirts like an Indian version of Brokeback Mountain. Boys splashing in rivers in their undies. I smiled and ate cool cucumber spiced with masala and salt and ice cream which melted in milliseconds. The wind blew and dirt and whatever else settles in a film all over my body. And finally Delhi.
When we arrived it looked like the apocalypse. 6pm but still like a 45c and the sun was beaming orange in the polluted sky over the slums of outer Delhi. It began to rain as we hopped in the rickshaw- not too much rain but enough to cool it down and then create more pish to walk through in Pajar Gang.

OM (my) God

Two weeks of ashram life. Not what I initally expected, but exactly what I needed and a great finale to India. The first week was a noisy, chaotic block party with pilgrims and flowers and singing and dancing and hooting and hollerin'. The second week has been like an Indian version of Sex and the City. I've tried to think of the equivalent phrase this is what I've got...Poop and the Delhi, Yoga and the Ganges, Chai and the Ashram, etc, to describe my ever expanding crew of ladies that meet up to discuss those things; poo, chai, and yoga. Fot the whole first week it was me and this british couple Laney and Steve and that was it for the westerners. But after the holy week and the birthday passed the ashram rooms opened up and the whiteys flowed into the Ganga Block. aka my hood.
So my girls...
We've got Sarah from Minnesota- a young, hilarious girl on a month long "holiday" I use the term loosely cause she hasn't had the easiest time in India. Sarah is doing her masters in holistic health and is staying at the ashram but taking private one on one yoga classes and lecture at the yoga and health center connected to the ashram. Katarina- who hails from Austria and is tall and bright and also takes pictures of her food- just like me. Helen from England who is like Lindsay Lohan's british twin in The Parent Trap- about twenty years old and about ten times cuter(if thats even possible)With red hair in pigtails and raidiant blue eyes. As you might guess this girl gets hassled like no other in India. Did I mention she's only TWENTY? yeah. Maureen- a lovely,insightful, enlightened(and she really is dude) woman from New Zealand on her second?(at least) trip to India. Maureen's friend Lynn-Marie who is a bundle of energy and reminds me of my crazy P.E. teacher in middle school who had braces and was really into working out. Liza and Sarah- a pair of twenty year old German girls who are doing the same trip as me practicaly except they went to Central America instead of Argentina. Liza speaks English with an American accent due to a year in North Carolina?(of all places- she said the agency just puts you somewhere in America. At least it wasn't Reno... haha) when she was sixteen. Both girls are insanely mature and I can't belive she just turned twenty like three days ago. When I was twenty I still got lost on the bus in Seattle. No freaking way would I be in India. Hmmm also two girls from Toronto who I haven't even asked their names yet but are totally awesome- we bonded over chai and banana chocolate samosas- also our shared love of mangoes. Unfortunately they got a whole kilo stolen by a pack of monkeys the day I met them. ooh the monkeys. Emma, from the UK who Sarah met in Delhi and who is doing this insane world trip- in the end it'll be 18 countries in one year. Kinda the same as mine but more south america, more southeast asia and after India she's going to Jordan and Egypt? We laughed about crazy Argentineans and trains in India and how much crap you accumulate while traveling. Whew. I think thats everyone. For now at least.
So almost every night we meet at our version of the coffee shop. The Green Hotel restaurant behind the ashram that is eh, okay food but theres a.c. and masala chai and a waiter that speaks spanish to me cause he thinks I'm from Mexico? I've officially become THAT fiesty. And we sit around not eating much to the chagrin of our waiter- mostly because our meals are included at the ashram. But occasionally we'll share a massive banana nutella pancake or rice pudding along with honey lemon mint tea and chai and lassis. All the horror stories come out, all the funny moments and the crazy shit that no one who hasn't been to India will ever understand. For instance- Helen was in yoga class- a one on one class taught by Sarah's teacher. And she was doing cobra pose. And the teacher gives you adjustments when needed. Here's the problem. So for a visual--- cobra pose is you laying on your stomach with your hands next to your shoulders and chest and head pulled up- and the yoga teacher (a male) is in front of Helen, bends over her body to adjust her legs. Meanwhile his penis keeps accidentaly slapping Helen in the face.
HAHAHAHA.
you just can't make stuff like this up.
Helen is this sweet British girl and what can you do in this situation? Excuse me- enough with the dick slaps? hmmm. So she just politely averts her head to avoid the swinging pendulum. hahaha i wept when i heard this.
So over the past week after a day of yoga and chanting I hang out with my girls and before you know it it's ten o'clock curfew to not get locked out of the ashram. It has been ridiculously fun.
Also. I got sick again.
It's totally my fault, I don't wash ALL the mangoes I eat, etc. And so two days ago I was woken up with insane- dysentery like craps and proceeded to vomit and diharrhea my guts out the entire night and all next day. But by the grace of something it only lasted 48 hours. I rested. I ate only curd and toast and the next day I was back to yoga and feeling great. I think it was just India's last hoorah with my digestive system. Well, intestinal parasites, you've had your fun now you can piss off.
One more class this afternoon and my two weeks of yoga and early mornings and vedic chanting will be at a close. I've enjoyed what it turned out to be. Not a serene ashram experiece, but a fun filled whirlwind adventure and a total gab sesh. Hey- some things just turn out this way- why fight it?

Happy birthday Swamiji

first off- this keyboard sucks and ever time i try to capitalize an i it turns into an ai. so there will be no capitalization in this entry. thats india for you.

my first week of the yoga course is finished. i celebrated the saturday-ness of today by getting a glorious ayurvedic massage and eating hello to the queen for lunch. hello to the queen is a glorious dessert found in travelers cafes around india. it consists of crushed up graham crackers or cookies, vanilla ice cream, banana, and chocolate sauce. sometimes there is coconut on top. today the bananas were deep fried and there was a sprinkling of pomegranate seeds just to add a little color.
deeply deeply un yoga.
sooo good though.
so back to the beginning. last sunday i arrived at the parmarth niketan ashram in rishikesh. it was crazy. nuts even. there were brightly dressed religious pilgrims flooding the place and the whole registration was a bit sketch and disorganized but i was okay with it. you have to become accustomed to things not going the way you think/hope they will go in india. in the end it all worked out- i paid my donation, checked into my room and bought my all white outfit required for the yoga course.
along with my accommodation i get three square meals a day and unlimited filtered water, and its on the banks of the ganges with aarti -sacred fire- ceremonies nearly every night.
it also happens to be some holy week related to the ganges so there are loads of indian tourists and rishikesh is just booming with spirituality, and pushing, and cow shit, and chanting and old lady posses in matching saris. parmarth is especially full because the guru is in residence and the holy week AND its his birthday.
it was a bit of a shock and not really what you think an ashram would be like. there are people everywhere all the time. theres not really anywhere to meditate other than in your room or by the ganges. and its not that quiet. but this doesn't bother me. i had quiet and places to meditate and a strict schedule at vipassana. this is just a different experience that's all. unfortunately only me and one other couple felt this way and loads of people left the yoga course during the week for this reason or that. another one bites the dust i say. but i really wanted to do yoga every day and this is the way i can- twice a day even and so i hung in there through the madness of celebration and business, and now that it has calmed down a bit i'm grateful that i stayed. so next week it'll pretty much be me and one indian guy and the yoga teacher. so it will turn into semi private yoga classes- pretty pretty good.
im getting tons of time to read- i'm currently reading 'the god of small things'- which is awesome- thank you jen, 'vipassana meditation', 'teach yourself eastern philosophy', and the guide book section on hindu gods - again- i'll never get them straight i dont think.

at first i thought the week would drag on because the schedule isn't quite as packed as i would have thought. but its flown by as i look back so whatevah. morning yoga class begins at six am and Indu the yoga teacher recommends a cold shower before so i wake at five thirty every morning, douse my self in cold ass water and traipse over to the massive yoga hall. morning classes we do prana yama breathing exercises, yoga asanas and some crazy warm-ups. traveling for nine months has done horrible things to my body. my intestines, my skin, my waistline- bIGTIME, my flexibility, sleep patterns, eating habits,etc. and all of this has become insanely apparent this last week. not only am i totally out of shape, inflexible and the like. but i am eating like a crazy person, i dont know if its the yoga- aka - actual physical exercise or the fact that i finally stopped taking antibiotics and dont have diharrhea anymore or what but my appetite is back baby- and i cant do exclamation points either on this keyboard.
then after breakfast we have vedic chanting which seems like it wouldn't be too hard. but i sweat and struggle to master the four notes and try to keep up with the oms and karavavahi y aaaaa yaaaaaAAs but its tough workout- sweat pours down my back every day.
then there is an hour and a half to kill before lunch which is torture sometimes- i usually nap because its so freaking hot out these days.
in the afternoon we have more yoga asanas and guided meditation and from monday to friday i have gotten my head on the floor, my shoulder stand semi mastered and my triangle eh, up to par.
also it happened to be the gurus birthday so on wednesday afternoon classes were canceled due to the crazy celebrations that occurred to honor swamiji. a sacred cow ceremony where we got to feed jaggery balls and greens to the fattest cows ive seen yet in india. a tree planting ceremony- decadent lunch with like three desserts, various epic plays depicted on a massive stage built out over the ganges. a huge statue of krishna- i think- in lotus position sits in the middle. and the guru and his crew - who followed him around all day- this posse of young students in yellow and orange robes tossing marigolds in his crazy hair and blowing conch shells and generally making quite the show of it. there was a krishna skit where a crazy decked out dancing cowherd incarnation of him played the flute and seduced young cowgirls or gupis. the dancing was straight out of bollywood with hip shimmying and wrist and neck flicking and coy glances. did i mention this was all done by the MALE dancer? at one point i was like eh, that's a guy right? kids painted blue and balancing on stilts, women glittering in gold studded saris from head to foot, old ladies pinching your arm fat to squeeze past in all the commotion, etc.
i looked around that night and thought- i cant believe this is happening. i'm sitting on the banks of the ganges river while the warm breeze blows and this unreal dancing is happening in front of me- there's a guru over there with a flowing mane and bright orange robes, there are beautiful saris pinks, blues, greens, oranges, purples, reds and yellows dotting the crowd. most of them draped over women's heads which is one of the most beautiful things you can imagine. there is chanting and fire and marigolds and crazy orange bugs. i cant believe im in freaking india right now.exclamation point.
i cant believe im watching this right now exclamation point.
such awesomeness, i'm so lucky.
some mornings after yoga i practice vipassana on the banks of the ganges. oh so peaceful. so saintly. yeah until the flies and mosqouitos and scorching sun come out. yesterday i could literally feel the legs of the fly step by step as it walked across my eyelid. my whole body was shaking with the urge to swipe it away. THIS is why Goenka tells us to meditate indoors i think.
one evening this week i went down to the banks to chill and immediately this auntie whisked me over and before you know it all her girls were sitting around me staring as she decked out my hand in some badass henna. she even invited me for tea the next morning at her ashram. which i gladly accepted. except when i went the next day and was totally lost and every sign there was in hindi and then i got kicked out by the security guard- i guess no westerners allowed? so thats a bummer. hopefully she isnt grudgin'.
in other news i'm a total sweat machine. yesterday it was eh about 39 degrees c here. thats like 110 . and doing yoga in the afternoon i was 1-sweating so much that my whole outfit was transparent -as i have to wear all white. and 2- slipping at every sun salutation. we did a stretch with a partner where we held hands and did back bends. except me and laney tried to do it and our hands kept slipping out because of how sweaty we both were.
and the monkeys.
every day in yoga a couple of monkeys crawl in the windows to eat bananas . i know. such a stereotype. and mess around and generally distract. one morning we were doing yoga outside because it was too hot inside and this massive beast jumped out from the trees. this was as elizabeth would say like a man in a monkey suit he was so big. and he was black and gray, not brown. and his tail was like a big ass snake. but indu- the teacher says that these ones are actually nice and you can feed them and hang out if you like. which i did see later on that day- an old sadhu had given one a bag of biscuts and they sat together on a bench like a coupla pals just eating their snacks.
but the little ones will bite. indu says. the little ones are the fuckers that is for sure. one afternoon two came in in the midst of a teenage slap fight or something. we were supposed to be meditating but they were at the front of the room pushing and fighting and sliding across the floor. i opened one eye to see one just laying there on his side with his head resting on one hand like george from seinfeld in a photo shoot. hilarious. and i'm trying to be all yoga and om about it while i suppress my laughter. you can hear the one pushing the other one against the wall and crash and boom and oooh oooh aahh ahhh at each other. Indu finally started us all doing OMs until we could get the negative 'vibes' or whatevah out. and they did finally leave. finally.
cheeky monkeys.
so yeah. i'm liking the ashram and the yoga and really hoping it will stick and i'll be able to continue the practice after i leave. i might get a little book of the poses though just so i can remember the sequence, etc. i have the weekend to laze around and get more massages and maybe get some palm reading or my birth chart done while i'm in this spot. so now i will continue to digest my 'hello to the queen' so hasta. exclamation point.