Au revoir, Mysore

My month in Mysore ends Friday. It’s both strange and wonderful that it’s over. The month went fast, and I feel that I’ve just begun to scratch the surface of the many delights of Mysore, which is quite a livable city, once you get used to the noise and pollution, and of intense daily yoga practice. Though a month seemed like a huge amount of time to devote to yoga when I arrived, it now seems a bit short. Many people are here for three or six months. How they manage to be here for so long is not entirely clear. Many seem to be the run from something at home, here to clarify their lives with the purifying focus of ashtanga. I can’t blame them – I was also here to sort things out before returning home.

What I’ll miss about Mysore
• Friendly people
• South Indian veg thali – a huge plate lunch, with rice, chappati, yogurt and at least three varieties of curry, for about a buck
• Idly, idly, idly
• Mangoes
• The palace outlined in lights on Sunday night
• The way sultry warm weather slows everything down to a languorous pace
• The silent camaraderie of pre-dawn yoga practice
• Colorful saris and salwar kameez
• Marking the day by the call-to-prayer from a distant mosque

What I won’t miss about Mysore
• The x-ray stare, everywhere, everyday
• Honking rickshaws, cars and trucks
• Cow manure in the street
• Looky looky men
• Constantly being on guard so I won’t get cheated
• Getting cheated fairly often anyway
• “Hello Madam, rickshaw…?”
• Trying to be covered up all the time, even though the temps are near 90 degrees
• Women in burquas