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".

          

Christmas in Agonda

Our seabird overnight sleeper bus journey from Mysore to Canacona started off rather pleasantly. On the exterior the bus itself looked a tad rundown but on the interior me and Allison had ourselves a nice double bed where we thought we would be able to just chill and relax for our ten hour journey.

But chilling and relaxing wasn't on the agenda. The bus basically turned out to be a parcel delivery vehicle that also transported passengers so not only did we have to pick up passengers but stopping for long periods in the middle of nowhere to load the bus was commonplace. Long parts of the journey felt like the bus was off roading as we kept going over bump after bump. Then there was the winding mountain pass where Allison's nerves started to get the better of her. It was at this point we figured out that there was no advantage to laying flat on a sleeper service and would have probably been better off on a semi sleeper as when the bus went round a left turn we would both roll to the right, a sharp right turn, we'd roll left. Left, right, left, right we rolled. A major consolation to me was that if we had crashed laying flat my feet and legs would take the brunt of the impact and not my head and face. Crash, bang, broken ankle and leg, not broken skull n brain. There was another consolation, because of the constant stopping our ten hour journey turned into a thirteen hour journey which under normal circumstances would have really pissed us off but this meant we arrived in Canacona at 06:30 am instead of 03:30 am. The chances of getting a lift to Agonda at that hour would have been almost impossible.

We arrived at Fatimas guesthouse after an increased rickshaw ride fare that neither of us were prepared to argue over as we were too tired from our extended journey.
Fatimas for me was like a home away from home, I'd spent a month staying here last year whilst doing my Sampoorna yoga teacher training. It was one of the cheapest places to stay in Agonda and as we were on a budget (not necessarily a tight budget) it was good for what we needed, a bed to sleep in, or so I thought. Now there are some really nice beach huts right on the beach facing the sea here in Agonda, beautiful in fact, so Allison naturally wanted to take a look. Our first morning was spent looking at other accommodation. The majority of this other accommodation is over quadruple the price of ours but it is the festive season so why not splash out? But its also the first month of our one year away so we have to be a bit careful. So now we're involved in a Mexican stand off. Basic Fatimas or plush beach hut? I amazingly came out on top this time round, I don't know how but I did. If it was the end of our journey and cash flow wasn't an issue, no Mexican stand off would have occurred and we would have splashed out and stayed at H2O facing the ocean.

On our second day here I'd decided we should hire a scooter as its the easiest way to get around and visit the different beaches, restaurants and take in the sights.
The sequence of hiring a bike here is quite strange in regard to the way you would do it back home. You ask someone, anyone that you want to hire a scooter, now they either have a bike or no someone that has one. This guy Chetnan had one, we discussed the price, £2.50 per day, he gave me the keys, I took his mobile number, then rode away. No money, no ID, no passport, no nothing?

It was the eve before Christmas. We rode a scooter down to Palolem in the afternoon and had a nice Pizza in the restaurant Magic Italy.
When the evening came we had established ourselves at a table by the Cuba beach huts. Allison always out for a bargain had noted that they have happy hour between 6-8pm. What better way to watch the sun set than with two Caprioska's  for £1.80, bargain!

We remained at Cuba for dinner and both took delight in getting the waiter (unbeknown to him) to continuously repeat crispy Squid as he kept pronouncing it crip-sy Squid and for some reason it sounded hilarious.
After dinner we went for a stroll, we purchased a fire lantern on the main strip and headed to the beach. I held the lantern whilst Allison tried to light the fire lighter that was held in place by some metal wire underneath. Her trying took too long for this impatient man, so knowing I could do a better job and actually ignite the lighter we swapped rolls after some persuasive words. I held the fire lighter and 'plop', I had managed to pull it off the wire and it fell straight into the sand, getting absolutely covered. Not only that but when it had finally cooled off enough to put it back in place on the wire, Allison mentioned I hadn't even pulled open the lantern enough for it to fly. She opened the lantern fully and it swiftly sailed into the night sky. My delight in watching the beautiful lantern float up into the air was marred by my unmanliness to actually figure out why earlier the lantern was nosediving and not flying.
After our maiden voyage we stopped off at Simrose beach huts to listen to some entertainment. An Indian guy was singing cover versions of Christmas songs. Both our personal favourite became his Shaking Stevens number 'Merry Christmas Everyone'. He wasn't a bad singer and to our joy he would add a letter to certain words which would make the song more amusing, so for instance 'every' would become 'wevery'. "Merry Christmas Wevery one", "Children playing (change the H to a W) Wav-ing fun".

His rendition of Wappy birthday that he sang for someone was the last straw and we left to head back to Fatimas.  

It was strange being away at Christmas. I'm not a big fan of being away from blighty during the festive season but thought now I'm older it won't be such an issue. I was wrong, I had no Christmas spirit, in this heat it didn't feel like Christmas, I needed some cold weather, an open fire and a dodgy jumper to put me in the spirit of things. Watching endless adverts on TV and a definite over expenditure on food and alcohol would also have helped with my bereft of Christmas atmos.
I awoke on Christmas morning feeling like today is just like any other day. Tommy's little belly was rumbling and needed feeding. Allison wasn't getting ready fast enough for Tommy, so Tommy threw a tantrum. Throwing my toys out the pram due to feeling hungry wasn't necessarily the best thing to do on Christmas day but don't we all revert back to being kids at Christmas? Allison's thoughts of a nice breakfast on Christmas morning were swiftly eradicated by my mood and when I also chose the wrong place to eat. Her omelette was filled with loads of melted cheese and had the effect of making her feel sick, my pesto panini were two ordinary white bread rolls filled with pesto. The day wasn't improving and I had to take responsibility for my actions. A nice trip on the scooter to turtle beach to make amends was in order. I've not known Allison to get travel sickness but being on the back of the scooter with the constant twists and turns and the cheesy omelette sloshing around in her belly only amplified her feelings of nausea. At least she managed to forgive me for a while as we took a nice stroll along the gorgeous beach.

A selfie in the sun with our Christmas hats. (She may be smiling but at this point I had only been partially forgiven)

Turtle beach 

A couple of days after the hungry belly incident we were on the beach at Agonda and I asked Allison what she was reading on her Ipad, "an article about emotional immaturity" she replied, "so you are doing some self development" I responded, as I don't know anyone who's emotionally immature I thought. "Emotional immaturity in men, Tom". I had been told! The realisation of me behaving like a nob wasn't a new concept to me, being a nob had happened on numerous occasions but I couldn't use the normal excuse of being stressed or feeling tired as we were in paradise without any worries and I hadn't worked nights in nearly a month, although if I'm honest I hadn't slept well for a couple of nights.

Boxing day turned out to be a better day for both of us. I managed to keep little Tommy in check, the toys stayed in the pram and my adult self reigned supreme. After the disappointment of breakfast on Christmas day I took Allison on the back of the scooter, sans nausea to have breakfast at Space Goa where she had a delicious smoked salmon with scrambled eggs. I was redeeming myself from the previous days hiccup.

The next stop on the scooter was cola beach.

After that we visited Cabo de Rama which is an old fort a little bit further north along the coast. We wandered round the site taking in the Banyan trees, views and practising some yoga postures in precarious positions.

Allison and the Banyan tree

A view from the fort

Striking a crow pose atop the battlements.

On the 27th we basically decided that we weren't going to do a lot and spend the day relaxing on the beach. We had dropped the scooter off the evening before so had no plans whatsoever.
We chilled out at the H2O restaurant as it made Allison feel like we were partially staying there. At lunch I broke my vegetarianism which I was trying to sustain the whole time I was in India apart from a bit of fish now and again by eating some chicken. I didn't like the chicken very much, probably because it didn't have campylobacter and my body can't process a good healthy chicken. You don't really need to eat meat here as the majority of the dishes are vegetarian and taste better than their meat counterparts anyway.
In the evening we went for a meal at the roadhouse bar which is at the north end of Agonda beach. It is owned and run by a group of Nepalese guys who are doing their first season here.

We had a plate full of seafood which included a whole tuna, prawns, king prawns and squid. Everything was great about the evening but the only thing I regret is sharing two bucket mojitos and not just having the one.

The 28th was all about another day of relaxation, hangover minimising and the fruit bat tree. There are a couple of trees at the north end of Agonda beach which are covered with sleeping fruit bats and come dusk they start to slowly wake up, start screeching at each other and then take to the sky's in search of mangoes, bananas and other fruits.

If you are ever here it is well worth paying a visit to see the bats as they start to awaken and go off on their nightly hunt for food.

  

One week in Mysore

The journey took eleven hours. Eleven hours of relaxation and sleep, for Lilli and Allison maybe, but for me like an idiot previous to getting on the bus I read that the railway network here is the most dangerous in the world but is considerably safer than using the buses as nearly 135000 people died on the roads here in 2010 and more deaths are occurring each year. Now as you may know in previous posts I am not very keen on how the Indian people take to the roads. I don't want to continuously go on about this but pedestrians, cyclists, motorcyclists, bus drivers and lorry drivers, I'm sorry if I've left any particular demographic of road user out but they all seem to have a death wish! And I was a tad nervous on this 11 hour overnight semi-sleeper bus service. My vision out of the front of the vehicle was obscured by a curtained partition. There was a gap in this partition and it would have been better for me if there wasn't this teasing little gap. Every glare from every headlight coming towards us, to me was a potential crash. I pictured myself embedded in twisted metal and some little Indian man cutting me out of the wreckage with the jaws of life, that's even if they have them here which I'm doubting they do. They believe in reincarnation here so its not a problem for them if they die in a collision as they can go on to bigger and better things but for me I'd be fucked.

We are staying at the Mystic School in Gokulam, Mysore. There is the Mystic cafe upstairs where they serve delicious home cooked Indian food. 150 rupees for lunch which is approximately 1 pound 50 pence for a buffet. Eat as much as you like! It would have been Bob heaven! Bob my dad who's sadly passed away was a connoisseur in finding the cheapest buffet he could, it didn't matter how good the food was just the price and that he could fill his tardis of a belly, for a skinny man his appetite was immense. I don't think he ever found one for that price and especially not with that standard of lovely food. The food is incredible here. In England cauliflower is one of the most boring vegetables, cauliflower cheese is the most exciting thing we can do with a cauliflower and it is a rather tasty dish I might add but these Indians can do the most amazing stuff with a cauliflower. They can conjure dishes that are out of this world. Deep fried cauliflower with a dipping sauce, Gobi Manchurian which is fried cauliflower with a spicy sauce. I could eat it every day here, at home once a week is more than enough.

Have you ever seen anyone going through cold turkey? Well I can tell you its not a pretty sight. At first they start fidgeting, they then get headaches, they can't sleep and are basically stressed out and tense. Well imagine the joy I felt when Allison finally found a gym and could have a cardio workout. So many things to see here in Mysore but the only sightseeing my wife wants to do is to see the calorie counter on a treadmill. Cardio vascular exercise, Allison's drug of choice.

Mysore is the birth place of Ashtanga yoga. In Varkala me and Allison attended a Hatha yoga class. Now the difference between these two styles of yoga is simple. Let me draw you an analogy, Hatha- your having a lovely relaxing Sunday stroll taking in the beautiful scenery. Ashtanga- this stroll that your on turns into a sprint away from a group of skinheads that have come around the corner and decided they want to kick your arse and you don't want your arse kicked so you have to keep on running in the opposite direction no matter what!
On our third day here we found an Ashtanga vinyasa class that started at 08:30 in the morning. Ashtanga with Raghu. Now don't get me wrong I do like doing yoga although I find it frustrating at times, to me it is a type of torture, a battle, a war. Not of two tribes going against each other but this personal battle that happens between your own mind, body and soul. For me the experience seems to jump between meditation, frustration, happiness and of course anger. Anger at how shit I'm doing. The Indian teacher is extremely good and his flexibility is great and he can hold the poses with ease. I on the other hand have the flexibility of a board and with his slight adjustments of my body I want to challenge him to a running race. Nothing too far, perhaps just a 5k, just enough to rub his face in his inability to keep up with me. Yes my Indian friend you can bend over and see your own backside but can you beat me in a race?

I've had this cold more or less since we arrived and it seems to die down and then rear its ugly head again. I awoke to a snotty nose, cough and the thought of remaining in bed and not going to the 08:30 yoga class again this morning. "Oh come on, challenge your ego" Allison said. Nuff said, out of bed, teeth brushed and of to the class we trot. On arrival I asked Raghu if we could do a Hatha class, as I've I mentioned earlier its less intense and the way I was feeling would have been better for me. Not only that the day before he asked us what style of yoga we wanted, Hatha or Ashtanga. Yesterday I was feeling hard, today I was feeling like a wimp. Mistake! I think this soft westerner must have pissed him off, we started off nice and comfortably with some pranayama (breathing exercises) to help with my blocked nose. He then took us through sequences where I felt he was trying to punish me. Hold a posture, my body's screaming at me, I'm holding, waiting for the okay, waiting for times up, waiting to release the pose but I'm still waiting and holding. I'm battling against him, myself, Allison (who's annoyingly actually enjoying the class) and my you've guessed it, the worst one, my fucking ego!  Which won't let me come out of the pose before Raghu says release. "Fifteen more seconds" announces Raghu, my legs are wobbling like crazy, I'm suffering and every part of my body is feeling it "and release". I think his mission was to try and snap my spine as he kept making us do lots of more and more intense back bends, which I'm no good at at the best of times, but as you can see Allison is more than capable.

 He beat me down mentally and physically. There is no place to run and hide in an Ashtanga vinyasa class.

We finally had a trip around Mysore today. Allison managed to get an Ashtanga class in beforehand (sadly I stayed in bed) but had to forego the gym which she wasn't overly impressed about. We hired a tuk tuk for the day which was driven by Saleem and myself I might add. He gave me the opportunity to take the wheel and I thought I can't be any worse than these crazy people.

We had a pleasant walk up Chamundi Hill where a group of teenagers decided to start throwing things at us, luckily their aim wasn't true. After which they wanted their photo taken with Allison, "yes if you stop throwing stuff at us" I said trying to be a polite forgiving gentleman.

Throwing things was the least of our worries as the boy on the left of Allison started to lower his hand towards her breast. Allison not being very accommodating to his advances pulled away and punched him hard. Strangely stunned (according to them apparently its OK to molest women) they scattered and ran in different directions leaving one of his flip flops lying on the pavement (why didn't I launch his flip bloody flop back down the hill?). 

1000 steps to the top of Chamundi Hill, I wanted to walk the whole way but Saleem dropped us off 200 steps from the top and even that seemed quite a feat. 

To be blessed by God the Hindu's walk up the 1000 steps and mark each one individually with bright colours. Some of them crawl up on their hands and knees which can take all day. This ritual doesn't happen once in a blue moon, some of them do it once a week.

      A group of three women marking each individual step, they have about 150 to go.

After the steps Saleem took us to a silk producing factory that made Sari's. The place was government run and no photography was allowed. To see a proper Indian factory with hundreds of looms with hundreds of workers was an experience. The noise was incredible and it was strange to see the majority of workers without ear plugs whilst the minority were wearing a pair. After coming out the noise still remained with us and is was like we had been at heavy metal gig all night. One Sari, two thousand of your British pounds please. Some of them were interlaced with Gold and Silver.

                                  The Maharajah's Palace was next on the agenda.

40 rupees for Indians, 200 rupees for foreigners, welcome! At least I don't feel so bad now when the locals sting you for a few more rupees, I did take it personally but when government run attractions do it blatantly what can you say.  The palace was good but we were more interested in the cows outside. When we left the palace some cows were walking across a roundabout in the middle of the city whilst heavy traffic had to deviate around them. Its weird in a city with a population of nearly a million inhabitants that cows just roam freely.

Our next stop was a place which seemed like someones house where they made incense sticks and essential oils. This little old lady rolled out 6000 incense sticks a day. To do that many she must go into some kind of meditative state.

Our local area of Gokulam is a suburb in Mysore. There are a lot of westerners that come here to do yoga teacher training. Outside our window is like a little farm yard in this haven of meditation and yoga. There are dogs, goats, chickens, cockerels and turkeys just roaming around the streets. When we venture out depending on where the turkeys are situated we may have to take a detour as Allison is not very keen on walking passed them. I have seen them running after a woman and some kids so her fright isn't totally unwarranted. The cocks start crowing at an ungodly hour and mess with our sleep. 

                        The turkeys paired up and looking out for potential victims. 

Allison's Ashtanga experience continued with Jaiprakash, his name even sounded scary, "I'll stay in bed" I informed Allison. A good job too because apparently the class was really hard and he was very strict. There were six people in the class who all bar two (one of which was Allison) could do the whole of the primary series. "Sit this sequence out" Jaiprakash instructed a male student. If I was there I would have been sat down in a corner for long periods with my rigid and taut body. Allison said I would have hated it.

On our second to last day here Allison has found her potential Guru. A small Indian man called Badri. I on the other hand stayed in bed again whilst she went to have an Ashtanga class. With Badri's jovial and positive teaching skills she managed to perform postures better than she had in the past, he focused a lot on the breathing element to enhance and deepen the different poses.

Allison with her potential Guru Badri

I have come to the realisation that my usual competitive ethos towards training cannot be applied to Yoga. The more I push or compete with myself or those around me the further I seem to descend into a tight ball of frustration. I've read that flexibility doesn't come from stretching the muscles, the range of movement improves by your ability to switch off your pain receptors and in doing so you can bend or twist further because you no longer feel the pain. Under anaesthesia your body can be put through its full range of motion. So that's it then! I need a dose just before entering an Ashtanga class so I can contort my body into all those crazy positions they do and not feel a thing. Then I won't feel so useless and won't have to challenge anyone to a fucking race! 

Today we are off to Agonda in Goa to spend Christmas, we are both looking forward to being by the beach again. Another overnight bus journey awaits, great.

Amma's Ashram

Day 1
The afternoon started with Me, Allison and Lili getting a taxi from Varkala to Amma's ashram in Amritapuri. This vehicle was a cross between a rickshaw and a bedford mini van. The journey the driver said would take two hours took a hell of a lot longer.
I still cannot get over the way they drive over here. The way the pedestrians don't flinch when a car nearly clips their leg or takes off their arm. They overtake on blind bends, overtake when vehicles are clearly coming in the other direction, honk their horns repeatedly at needless things then don't bother when it's really necessary. When you come from a working environment where health and safety is paramount and potential hazards are really easy to spot it's so hard to sit in a taxi whilst mayhem ensues around you.
We finally see Amma's ashram in the distance, the sixteen storey tower block in front of us.

On arrival we fill out the necessary forms, passport number, DOB, name, spiritual name? Swami Ali for Allison but we can't think of a suitable one for me. Perhaps by the end of these few days one will suddenly come to mind. We are then given our room key by one of the devotees, by his accent I assumed he was Dutch. The western devotees here all wear white clothes, long cotton white tops and long cotton white skirts for the women and the men. The accommodation is 250 rupees a night, roughly  2 pound 50 and with that food is included (we find out later that very basic food is included).

I picked up some bedding and me and Allison headed off to our room and Lili headed off to a dormitory. It took us ages to find our room as the place is huge and everyone we asked even the ones dressed in the white uniforms had no idea. Allison made a detour to the reception again and actually listened to the Dutch guys directions meaning that we finally found our room no thanks to me and my inability to listen. Our room is obviously quite basic and what I would have expected but I think Allison was expecting something slightly different. I think it was the fact that there wasn't a bed and it was just a mattress on the floor, plus the pillows looked particularly grimey.
We met for an introductory tour at 17:00 where an American guy from Detroit showed us a video of Amma's good deeds and then proceeded to show us round the ashram. He informed us of meal times, yoga class times, showed us where you can meditate and also informed us of that no affection should be shown between couples, public displays of affection are frowned upon here. It must be okay for men to show affection to other men as later we see some locals holding hands whilst walking around the place. I can't get my head round these cultural differences yet. Before he leaves he shows us to where we can get a token so we can sit in line to wait for Darshan with Amma.
Darshan is where you wait in line so you can get hugged by Amma and it's meant to be quite enlightening. I thought when it is my turn with the Divine mother Amma I will ask her to give me more patience but I was sadly to impatient to wait around and get a hug so I went to bed. Allison and Lili held out and sat waiting from 21:30 till midnight. Allison said you could feel her love when she was hugging you. After Allison had received her hugged blessing a devotee asked if she could pass the sweets to Amma so she could hand them out as gifts to the waiting pilgrims. This simple thing is seen as a very honorary task and most people would have jumped at the chance, Allison replied "no, I need to sleep". Bed was a more enticing prospect than serving the Divine mother.
My first impressions of this place is that there are a lot of rude and angry people here. From the guy at the ayurvedic pharmacy chucking things across the counter at us, to a guy refusing to budge on a bench so another person could also sit on it. This place is how I would imagine an ashram to be but on steroids. That all said I think this woman does an incredible amount of good for people in India and overseas so however I view the angry minority is really immaterial, but hopefully my experience does get better.

Day 2
It's not permitted to take photos at the Ashram so taking them can be difficult.
I did some voluntary work today, its called Seva. You are meant to do some to help out the community when you stay. It's only an hour a day so doesn't take up too much precious time. My time wasn't actually that precious here as I wanted to leave but we had booked and paid for a bus to take us to Mysore and it didn't leave for a couple more days (shit) so any time wasting was a good thing.
My Seva consisted of lifting bags of soil from the ground floor and taking them up three flights of stairs to the roof. It was me and an 18 year old Polish guy called Simon who had this task in this extreme humid heat. Whenever I am given physical tasks my ego kicks in and I wanted to beat the young Polish guy in an endurance carrying race he was not even aware he was in. After 20 minutes the Indian woman who appointed us to move the soil said enough was enough and to come back tomorrow. I could have had him, I sware he was tiring!
My competitor Simon-

I had my Indian lunch today so it didn't cost me a penny, there were no spoons available so I had to eat like a native. Just use your right hand to mix up the rice with the curry and shovel it into your mouth. It takes a bit of getting used to and you have to try hard not to get any food down your top.

It is constantly noisy here, recordings of Amma's voice over the tannoy system or loud spiritual music playing. The only respite is the beach where you can just listen to the waves crashing against the shore. But even then your not safe as a man with friends and a guitar can quite easily gate crash your party by a group chant.

My frustration of this place starts to grow and I cannot see how people can find any form of spiritual enlightenment by being somewhere so in your face and noisy. It gets to a point where certain people are even making me feel angry, which is weird when you think I was in a peace and loving spiritual community. 

I decided to take a stroll around the main hall where all the Indian devotees were comfortably sitting there listening to the music. I spot a western devotee in all his white uniform splendour dancing in total bliss and euphoria and I get angry! don't ask me why as I don't even know myself, he just basically pissed me off with his total bliss, adoration and love for Amma. Perhaps I wanted to feel as free as him? perhaps I was just jealous as the only time I have ever come anywhere near that state of euphoria is when I was in my twenty's and had taken a stimulant that made me feel I loved everyone and I could dance all night.

A sneaky shot of my doppelganger, he danced in total bliss and love whilst I hated.

Day 3

I had calmed down a lot from yesterday, perhaps I had started to get used to the constant noise of Amma's ashram.

I promised the Indian woman that I would go back and do some more soil shifting today between 11 and 12. I took my new neighbour along with me Patrukolos who arrived yesterday with his girlfriend from Greece. I thought I would warm myself up gradually with the soil carrying and decided to split a heavy bag into two separate bags to be carried but Patrukolos had different ideas. He took hold of an equally large bag and flung it over his back, the bag then seemed to try and pull him over backwards to the ground but he let go just in time. Ego- I've got this man before we've even started. But the ego was wrong. He hoicked the bag up again, he wasn't defeated and carried it up to the roof. I thought fuck I've got to lift the other heavy one now. My back holds out and I make it up to the top and dump it onto the flat roof. I'm walking back down and I'm now on the ground floor and he's lifting one over his shoulder and he grasps another one in his hand! WTF! He's taken two, I grab two, one in each hand. The Indian woman keeps telling us to stop, he doesn't want to stop and I definitely don't want to stop. We clear the whole lot of soil from the ground up to that roof and another load of soil onto another roof in an hour. No break, just two ego's battling for supremacy. A draw!

To be a Yogi you need to separate yourself from your ego. I'm not doing too well at the moment.

Patrukolos (Fiddler on the roof) with his girlfriend

Allison and Lili's Seva was not as intense as mine. At first Allison was not feeling any kind of work. She definitely wasn't going to clean or do any washing or wiping of dishes so they both decided rather reluctantly on chopping vegetables. How surprised was I to walk passed them later to find them both grinning and actually enjoying this menial task. With the woman singing and the music playing they actually found slicing the tomatoes very therapeutic. 

Between 3:45pm and 4:45pm it was men's swimming hour so I headed to the pool. I met a German man there named Andreas who's Seva was cleaning the leaves from around the pool an hour each day. He was a trusted devotee of Amma and loved her. He made me promise to have Darshan (a hug) with Amma that evening. He said when he had Darshan it was life changing for him, he became enlightened. People come from across the world for a hug with this woman and I must admit I was extremely intrigued. 

The Hug 

Allison, Lili and me each got a token to receive Darshan from Amma, they both wanted a second hug. We waited for 2 hours 45 minutes before we came close to the Devine mother Amma. Just before it was my turn I noticed my spiritual doppelganger standing a few metres in front of Amma with his hands over his heart with a broad smile across his face. Perhaps that is soon going to be me I wondered. It was my turn! She grabbed me close, muttered a few indistinguishable words in my ear and I was then pulled away. I walked off, Allison and Lili were waiting for me as they'd had their hug just before mine. They were waiting for some kind of response from me but I had none to give. I'd just had a hug from a woman and that's basically what it was. A hug, I felt no kind of love or enlightenment and neither had they on their second time round. 

I totally respect what this woman does. She sits on a stage giving hugs out all day long. She was there from 11am till 3am without a break just hugging people. That is some kind of physical and mental endurance. She does a lot of good and she wouldn't be able to do it without the people who have devoted themselves to her. But for me it's all a bit strange and I don't feel overly comfortable there.

Day 4

The last day at the Ashram was the best. Probably because we new we were leaving that evening and heading to Mysore. We relaxed more or less the whole day by the ocean. A beautiful sunset sent us on our way and a crazy devotee doing his devotion yoga to Amma made it all the more a memorable experience.

Holding a picture of Amma in his left hand he does a modified side angle pose whilst his gaze is drawn towards his guru. He would then put the picture down, scream at the top of his lungs, run at full pace into the sea where many signs say 'absolutley no swimming as strong rip tides' and roar like a lion whilst beating his chest like tarzan and punching the waves. In and out the ocean he went, strike a pose, scream, run, beat chest, punch waves.