Yoga in Varkala

We are sitting here in the coffee temple in Varkala listening to sympathy for the devil by the stones, sat atop the cliff looking out over the ocean where kite birds (birds of prey) circle the skies above the sea hunting fish which swim beneath them. 

There is a surfing community here and from the different accents and looks of people, they come from all over the world to sample the waves. Apparently this morning the waves weren't that big as my Japanese neighbour told me. I heard him leave early for the swell on his modified Royal Enfield motorbike. Modified to carry his and his girlfriends backpacks and his surfboard. He offered to sell it to me for €1000. I was really considering it but have since chickened out. Perhaps it was the beer I had drunk giving me Dutch courage. It is something I do want to do in the future with a bit more preplanning. 

Other people come here for the weather  and the relaxing ambience of the place and also for the loads of yoga on offer everywhere. 

Allison's yoga journey began yesterday as she and Lili attended a 2 hour yoga class at 09:00. The female instructor was from England and had apparently over 30 years experience. Basically she knew her shit.

I also had the best intentions of starting my yoga journey yesterday. I headed along to the yoga shala at 16:30 to be taught by an Indian teacher. To my somewhat delight it was his day off so headed down to the beach. Instead my exercise consisted of walking out into the ocean till the water was waist height and then running in slow motion up and down parallel to the beach. The current in one direction was particularly strong so even running a solitary metre took a crazy amount of effort. I think I managed 12 minutes of this before giving up and heading towards the shore. "Is that him there, what's he doing"? Lili asks Allison as she points me out as they reach the beach from the winding steps. "He's exercising" replies Allison as she's used to my weird fitness routines.  

The evening consisted of a nice meal with Lili, Fabrizio (Lili's friend), Allison and me at cafe del mar but do not get this confused with the Ibizan version. Only the name is the same, stolen to entice the westerners in. No Jose Padilla playing chilled tunes here. After which we stopped off at Trattorias for hot lemon, ginger and honey, it seems to be the best place to buy this drink here. Fresh lemon juice, chopped raw ginger and loads of honey with boiling water. Hopefully this will help with the sore throat lurgy that's going around. I doubt the big slice of chocolate banana cake I had will help all that much though but what can you do when it's only 60 pence. 

I actually slept well last night at La Mirban for the first time in a week. The rooms are naturally cooler here which helps.