Mandrem continued

I have been lucky enough to be allowed to practice in the mornings with the yoga course Allison is assisting on. Yoga at 06:30am for 2 and half hours, followed by an hour of breathing exercises and meditation. Your overall goal in yoga is to attain enlightenment and the answers are not found outside yourself, the answers come from within grasshopper.
My yoga practising frustrations have remained with me but I'm working on them. The other day a balancing posture that would normally create anger, frustration and a spoken under my breath swear word when fallen out of, remarkably caused an inward laugh instead. I may be getting slightly ahead of myself here as this happy, calm and forgiving way of practising yoga has only happened occasionally. The rest of the time I'm mentally beating myself up.
Am I getting better? I don't know, it's hard to tell with yoga. One day I feel I have energy and more flexibility, the next I feel tight and lethargic.
When we're doing Yoga (Asana) practice I occasionally look across to Allison to get some partial solace that maybe I'm not the only one going through a mental and physical struggle, but it just upsets me even more as she's doing some crazy shit with a pleasant facial expression. Note to self, don't look at wifey when practising Yoga.

Last Friday we did an Osho meditation (he was an Indian Guru). It was a moving meditation with specific movements conducted to specific music. Your right hand is held palm up by your sternum, your left is held palm up at your naval. Step your right foot forward and at the same time slice your hand through the air with a spear like lunging motion whilst verbally making a swooshing sound. Then draw your left palm up drawing up energy swapping places with the right and step your left foot forward, swoooosh. Step sideways right, swoosh, sideways left, swoosh,  diagonally right, swoosh, diagonally left, swoosh. Then back to the beginning. Repeat, repeat, rpt, rpt, swoosh, swoosh. This form of meditation was new to me, but it was good. My energy was there at the beginning, for some reason I was a ninja lunging through the air with weapon in hand. Then my energy dissipated and I became less of a ninja and more of a feeble sloth, I had to concentrate hard to bring that initial energy back to the meditation.

Osho

We buy 20 litre water bottles here, by my excellent mathematical brain I'd hazard a guess that's roughly 20kg (no big deal for this man). I carry it up the stairs and proceed to do some deep squat presses, "be careful" says Allison. Don't you know who I am, this is nothing to me, I think whilst sitting into the squat deeper and faster. Whoa whats that? As soon as I had that egotistical thought my back twinges. Since then I've decided I'm not doing any other form of exercise till I'm happy that my core strength and flexibility have significantly improved. Luckily since then no major issue has arisen.

When you are travelling around a country, you will inevitably bump into people you've met along the way. Allison bumped into Anita, a woman she had first met at Ammas Ashram, she saw her in Atman, an Italian restaurant come beach hut resort in Arambol.
My inevitable bump was more of a surreal nudge. I was walking along the beach, minding my own business without a care in the world. And then I saw him, my doppelganger also from Ammas Ashram. Not all dressed in white now, just plain black shorts on. A part time devotee, I thought, a devotee that walks the walk for a brief moment then reverts back to just being a simple traveller like the rest of us. Although he still had a smile on his face which I didn't mind as much this time round, probably because he didn't look in total bliss and it was more of a natural expression. I wasn't quick enough on the draw to get proof with my camera, I was too in awe of his presence and fumbled at my bag too slowly. He was gone as quick as he arrived, was it him? I need to hunt him down and get evidence of the second coming. Me and Allison both thought we saw him again a few days later, but alas he was going too fast on a scooter to be sure.

A previous photo at Ammas.

The Health and safety at work act does not exist in India, or at least I don't think so. I think they may have rewritten theirs as the hazardous and risk taking at work law. Flip flops, no hard hats and wooden scaffold without guard rails make it easier for potential accidents to happen. On top of the roof they work, hauling stuff aloft with little to no preventative safety measures in place. We heard a big bang the other day and I naturally thought a builder had just fallen braking their neck, what a pleasant surprise when we discovered it was just some building materials.

Not long after I took this photo we heard a thud.

One step backwards and he's a gonner!

Working on an electric pylon, just balancing, no harness, other things look a bit suspect too!

Mandrem

"Do you want to ride the scooter back?" I asked Allison, "yes ok, I may as well". How was I to know that she was lacking in confidence and her previous scooter riding days had abandoned her memory , perhaps she could have told me? I gave her the basic starting up of the vehicle instructions and thought that would be enough. "Keep your hand on the brake, give a little bit of acceleration and press the ignition in", "how do I stop, how do I stop" she says as the bike jolts forward, "use the brakes!" I shout. The bike falls from underneath her and lands on the floor but she remains miraculously on her feet.

I'm more worried about the bike than her which obviously doesn't go down too well, but I can see she is okay and not in any pain. Its not like Agonda here, I had to leave £100 deposit, a copy of my passport and pay for ten days rental in advance. Any damage and I'd have to pay, that is why the scooter took the majority of my attention. "Are you okay" I belatedly ask, no response was forthcoming.
People ride like lunatics here, they speed passed on their scooters and Royal Enfield motorbikes without a care in the world. Shorts, flip flops and without helmets is the bike riding fashion. If you crash you'll feel it.

I wear no protective clothing like I would back home, I take partial solace in the fact that I ride slowly and more safely than the others on these roads. As for the other westerners they try to ride like the Indians but inevitably more often than not come a cropper to their inexperienced sometimes drunken riding skills.

I miss Agonda, it was more chilled and the people seemed nicer down south. Here in Mandrem and especially Arambol people don't seem as honest, I feel like I'm trying to second guess them all the time, do they have an ulterior motive? what is his play? But perhaps its just me and I need to chill out.

I've come to the conclusion that westerners are weak when it comes to our immune systems. I've had a cough more or less since being here, my cold had finally gone after about a month and a sore throat that we both had until we decided on using bottled water to brush our teeth with instead of using tap water. Not only that but the other night whilst in bed I suddenly became nauseous, I dragged myself out of bed and stood over the toilet, hands strategically placed on the cistern, then toilet seat, then slightly above my knees. Nothing came, so I sat down in a chair in the lounge awaiting the inevitable. Back in bed I went, back to the toilet, back in the chair, this continued and it wasn't till the fourth cycle that I found out that the best position to put my hands in was on the toilet seat. I made a sound like a lion as I heaved up the contents of my stomach, "raarrrggghhhh". It felt like my stomach lining and throat were being ripped apart. I then managed to breathe with the heave, so as the contents came up, I exhaled, again I used this method, heave, exhale. It made the throwing up a more bearable experience.

My Delhi belly lasted a night and day, it cleaned out my insides from both ends and then luckily departed as quickly as it came. I finally felt cleansed and able to kickstart my Yoga training in Arambol.
Basically the Indians have stomachs made of steel and must have very strong immune systems. Their insides must have bacteria fighting warriors that crush all comers. Although I'd like to see how they'd get by on a western diet.

I ate a snickers the other day and it was like I had died and gone to heaven. My first chocolate bar since leaving home and it was well worth the wait. Absolutely scrumptious.

We both seem to be settling in more to the way of life here. I was a bit sceptical about spending a whole month here when we first arrived but I think that was just based on our first impressions and accommodation finding experiences. We landed on our feet with this apartment. One thousand rupees a night for a two bedroom apartment with hot water and a washing machine, Get in there!

We were paying exactly the same for the shit shack. I have now paid the whole months money to the owner Sudhir in advance and am still waiting for him to kick us out and replace us with higher paying Russky's but it hasn't happened yet so I think he'll have to put up with us.

                                            Will he or won't he kick us out?
The rest of the apartments in the block are frequented by Russians. There are so many of them here in north Goa, about 80% of the tourists are Russians. I've given me and Allison a task to befriend some before we leave as they all seem so stony faced and unapproachable. Neither of us has had any luck yet, I'll keep you posted.

                                              Everything written in Russian
Apparently the Russians started coming here in the 1990's a bit further down the coast in Morjim. The Russian Mafia bought up a lot of the properties in Morjim and their fellow compatriots started to go on holiday there. They have slowly been moving further up and down the coast and are now the dominant nation in Goa.

At the course Allison is assisting on, there is a meditation course running simultaneously. The only thing is, this isn't a normal kind of meditation. It is an extremely loud and scary kind of meditation, like something I've never heard of, and apparently like good Russians that they are, all this loud meditation takes place at 05:30 in the morning. Fuck everyone else who's sleeping we are gonna scream and shout and make noise like we are murdering someone or being murdered by someone. I haven't witnessed this early morning ritual myself as luckily we decided not to stay there but I did experience a recording of said ritual as another female assistant on the course decided to record it on her phone. If only I could download it to the blog, because if you heard it, you would assume some heavy shit was going down.

Allison is in constant war with the mosquitoes here. Come six o clock in the evening they come out in force for an hour and a half. They buzz around her like a cloud of dirt following pigpen (the peanuts character in Snoopy).

 

We've tried four different types of repellent (two sprays, one cream and one oil) but she must just taste too sweet for them annoying insects. You can almost see them putting on napkins whenever she's about. At least rose water seems to lessen the itch a little bit.

The start of a New Year

NYE in Agonda was a very good experience. We spent the evening with our new friends Andreas and Monica. A German couple who seem to have found the correct balance in life. When they are not at work their spare time is spent travelling the earth and experiencing different countries and cultures. I don't think there are many places they haven't visited. With the great company, fireworks, bonfire, live band, the only let down was the food which turned up cold. By the time it finally did turn up we weren't that hungry anyway as the booze had flowed consistently.
Out of the three Japanese fire lanterns we bought and set off at midnight only one had a successful voyage. I blamed the make of lantern as the two that didn't rise to the occasion were a different brand to the one that took off and ascended to the heavens. Not my fault this time round as I tended to each individual lantern with precision before igniting the fuse.

Walking back along the beach towards Fatimas we stopped at the fenced off turtle hatching area. They were meant to hatch either last night or tonight. Last night we waited till midnight to witness the birth of numerous turtles but felt to exhausted so retired to bed. This night we walked by at 1am, people were waiting but still no sign of the little rascals so off we went to bed. Apparently they hatched at 3am whilst we were fast asleep and I probably had the drunken snores.

After many haggling sessions and price ranges from 2000 rupees to 6500 rupees we managed to acquire a taxi to take us the 3 hour journey from Agonda to Arambol via Morjim beach to drop of our Norwegian friend Chade (pronounced Sade, like the singer). We settled on a 2300 rupee fee as the original 2000 rupee price was swiftly taken away after our phone call to confirm the booking, we agreed to the price hike as no one else had come close to that price, fingers crossed he'll actually turn up.

Eventually we found our accommodation in Arambol after taking a detour as a local sent us in the wrong direction. The hut that Allison had booked was not quite what we had expected. Very basic, the double bed looked just a little bit bigger than a single bed, it had seen better days, or maybe it had never seen a good day in its existence. Silence befell us both as we wandered round the site of our booked accommodation. Allison informed the manager of wanting a hut by the beach, these huts were a fair distance away and hopefully the ones by the beach were more airy and inviting. A 15 minute walk down the dusty road to some huts on the sand that were to the same high standard as its cousin way back up the dirt track. We could tell we weren't going to be happy spending a month in a hut like that. It was dark, dingy and not somewhere where you could relax in.
The race was on to find alternative accommodation, we had a couple of hours before it got dark, two huge bags of luggage and 3 smaller bags. We headed to Atman, a local haunt of Allison's when she was here a couple of years ago doing her yoga teacher training. It was there that she carried out her daily ritual of having her caffeine fix at breakfast time to keep her mind focused for the next yoga session. Allison remained with our bags as I hunted for a hut that we could stay in for a night or two, just till we could find more permanent lodgings. I found a hut not far from Atman, we put our large packs on our backs, small packs on our chest and headed towards the Zen huts. A diversion was taken to check out a room in a guesthouse but the price seemed to be grossly inflated. When they see tourists coming looking desperate and weighed down with heavy luggage, prices seem to sky rocket. Heads down we marched onwards mumbling about the inflated price. Our walk then took another sidewards step as a man told us he had a beach hut sat right on the beach for 700 rupees (7 pounds) a night. Like pack horses we trudged along the sand to be shown this rickety shack facing the beautiful ocean. Answer "no". We were now a fair distance from Zen huts and these donkeys had seen better days so we stopped off at the next section of huts on the beach that looked more inviting. They were painted bright colours and after looking inside looked relatively clean compared to the previous rooms we had looked at.

"We'll take it, but not for 1500 rupees, we'll pay 1000 a night for two nights" I said, "Okay, as long as you stay two nights", was his response. We dropped off our belongings, I pulled down the mosquito net and a cascade of dried mouse droppings fell onto the floor and bed! It was too dark to continue our search that night so we sat down in the beach restaurant where we could get a wifi connection whilst our room was cleaned. We looked for apartments and rooms online but came up with nothing. The next days plan was to search high and low till we came up with suitable accommodation for our month long stay.
We walked along the beach to Arambol town to get out of our lovely beach hut. The local shops sell things from clothes to dried herbs and spices. "Come in, take a look" the shopkeepers chant. Tiredness took hold of us and we led ourselves back to our hut overlooking the Arabian sea. My wind up rechargeable torch was used to help with deviating around the mess that was left on the beach from new years eve celebrations, the beautiful beach had sadly descended into a rubbish dump of glass bottles and plastic bags.
"Greetings" said the mouse and rat poo as we re-entered our hut. It was spread throughout the room. Even the sink and my pillow had droppings on, even a dropping on the toilet seat, it had missed the hole by a solitary centimetre. I think they must have had a poo party as soon as we went out. This was the first time I had used the rubber gloves I had bought from home, I cleaned up the mess with the toilet roll we luckily had on us. One night was enough in this shit hole, excuse the pun, but it was! Covering ourselves from head to toe with our sheet sleeping bags we laid down on the bed and hoped for sleep but funnily enough none was forthcoming.

Morning couldn't come soon enough, finally the sun rose, we left the hut with our things inside and our second hunt for accommodation in less that 24 hours began. The plan- Find suitable accommodation for the month, get back to the shitty hut and check out before midday, we had 3 hours and a suitable amount of determination to rise to this challenge. At 11am we found an apartment a bit further south along the coast in Mandrem that was clean, tidy and where we both felt we could spend the month comfortably without getting shat on in the middle of the night. All we had to do now was to check out of the shit hole and get our belongings back to Pushpa in Mandrem. The donkeys of yesterday were gone and the thoroughbred race horses were here. Loaded up and off we galloped along the sand, no need for a carrot to be dangled in front of our mouths! Bags put down, the final negotiated price agreed with the owner Sudhir, we could now just chill. The weight had been lifted from our shoulders and our month long stay here whilst Allison assists on a yoga course was taking a more positive shape.

The next day after returning to the apartment I was met by Sudhir and a Russian couple. He wanted to show them around the apartment? WTF. "What's going on" I enquired, "they are looking for a place to stay, when are you moving out, the 25th?" he replied. "No, the 1st of February!" I said. The couple then took their leave as me and Sudhir discussed the length of our stay. He must have got his wires crossed as we wanted him to pick up my step-daughter Jade and cousin Roni from the airport the morning of the 25th and probably thought we were leaving that day. Either that or he got a better offer from the Russians. Maybe he'll turf us out soon, who knows as we're in India and anything can happen.

Allison has begun her month long assistance on the yoga teacher training course. As for me I have plenty of time to sit and contemplate things. My plan is to wake up early and take Allison to yoga by 06:30, either join in the class and improve my flexibility or take a run along the sand listening to the relaxing sounds of the ocean.

I could run for miles and miles along this sandy beach, it won't break me! (I hope).

On our way back from a scooter ride to Kerri beach we saw this amazing Banyan tree, a pine tree and another tree were entwined in its strange root like branches.

An honest shopkeeper who sold us a bed sheet for £3. Allison got lost in the excitement of haggling and haggled the price down even lower to £2.50 but I felt sorry for him and his family and we agreed on the slightly higher price.

I post this on the 1st anniversary of my mother-in-law Mavis's passing, who knows she could be close by as if we believe in reincarnation like the Indians she could be here too. "I'll talk ta ya".