Mysore body
After a week of trekking down from the Himalayas, where it's still winter, to South India, where it's very definitely summer, I've settled into a bit of routine.
This buffer between my time in Bhutan and my return to the Bay is meant to be a bit of a writing retreat, where I make sense of all (at least some) of what I learned in the past six months before it escapes from my mind. I figured that was easier to do 1) in Asia, where some the cultural cues are the same; 2) in a town where I know no one, so I won't be distracted; and 3) while practicing yoga regularly (mens sana in corpore sano). Plus I've long wanted to visit Mysore, the center of ashtanga yoga.
So my routine is like this:
4:45 wake up, dress, walk to yoga studio
6:00 - 8:00 yoga class
8:15 drink a shot of Nescafe, with a bunch of rickshaw drivers, at the only coffee place open this early in the morning (Coffee Day, the Starbucks clone, doesn't open until 10!)
8:30 collapse in a puddle on my bed, down two liters of water, read the newspaper, shower, snack, contemplate work
12:00 lunch
1:00 - 7:00 sit under the ceiling fan in my room and write, while gazing out at sacred Chamundi Hill and the Palace
8:00 dinner
9:30 sleep
Before coming here, I read a book called Yoga School Dropout, by a British woman who spent nearly a year visiting various yoga shalas in India. In Mysore, she had the experience of being a bit in over her head, as all the other students revealed their "inner pretzel genes" while hers remained stubbornly recessive. I would have to say that my pretzel gene is equally recessive. The rest of the students in my class are whippet thin yoga teachers who appear to be in constant states of bliss as they wrap their feet around their heads. In addition to the class, they practice on their own. Another student suggested I attend a free class offered this evening at a different shala, but it takes the entire day, and then some, to regain my strength for the next morning.
This buffer between my time in Bhutan and my return to the Bay is meant to be a bit of a writing retreat, where I make sense of all (at least some) of what I learned in the past six months before it escapes from my mind. I figured that was easier to do 1) in Asia, where some the cultural cues are the same; 2) in a town where I know no one, so I won't be distracted; and 3) while practicing yoga regularly (mens sana in corpore sano). Plus I've long wanted to visit Mysore, the center of ashtanga yoga.
So my routine is like this:
4:45 wake up, dress, walk to yoga studio
6:00 - 8:00 yoga class
8:15 drink a shot of Nescafe, with a bunch of rickshaw drivers, at the only coffee place open this early in the morning (Coffee Day, the Starbucks clone, doesn't open until 10!)
8:30 collapse in a puddle on my bed, down two liters of water, read the newspaper, shower, snack, contemplate work
12:00 lunch
1:00 - 7:00 sit under the ceiling fan in my room and write, while gazing out at sacred Chamundi Hill and the Palace
8:00 dinner
9:30 sleep
Before coming here, I read a book called Yoga School Dropout, by a British woman who spent nearly a year visiting various yoga shalas in India. In Mysore, she had the experience of being a bit in over her head, as all the other students revealed their "inner pretzel genes" while hers remained stubbornly recessive. I would have to say that my pretzel gene is equally recessive. The rest of the students in my class are whippet thin yoga teachers who appear to be in constant states of bliss as they wrap their feet around their heads. In addition to the class, they practice on their own. Another student suggested I attend a free class offered this evening at a different shala, but it takes the entire day, and then some, to regain my strength for the next morning.
Comments
Glad you'll be back in the States soon. Call once you're settled!
Your routine sounds quite ascetic. It's hard for me to imagine you getting up at 4:45am!
Save travels.
in Bhutan, they call it "BP 11", as Bhutanese license plates start with "BP"
go green!