Too many goodbye lunches. Too many photos and videos to go through. And there'll be more farewells tomorrow too. I have a little over 24 hours left in Mysore. ARRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I'll just have to post all of the updates later, when I'm back in Amsterdam.
In the meantime, here's some video taken while riding in a rickshaw. I was sitting up front with Maney, coz the back seat was completely full already. While the area around Gokulam is relatively "calm" and quiet, the ride into Mysore city and the city itself is pretty... um... Lively.
Watching the video again, it still doesn't quite do the sights and sounds of Mysore justice (you need a 360 degree camera for that). But it kinda gives you a good snippet of what it's like to ride through town in a rickshaw. :)
Will try to post a blog again before I leave... But um... I still haven't packed and I've suddenly accumulated SO MUCH STUFF and I'm freaking out I'm gonna be massively overweight and be hit with a massive bill at the airport... So after led Primary tomorrow, it's packing-like-there's-no-tomorrow (where's a Butler when you need one?), walk by the lake with Nass, final Chanting class, farewell lunch at Green Hotel, say Bye to Sharath (FUUUUUCK! WHY DID I LEAVE THIS TILL THE LAST MINUTE?!? WHAT IF HE'S NOT THERE?!?)... Then final packing bits and my last shower in India before my 4-hour car ride to Bangalore Airport in the middle of the night, then an 11-hour flight to Paris, transiting there before the final 1-hour flight from Charles de Gaulle to Amsterdam. BLERGGHHHHHHHH. It's not as bad as some of the 24-hour journeys the Americans have to make, BUT STILL!!!
Dear Lord, I feel like I'm in a blur already. I haven't had this much stress in the last 5 weeks!!!
-----
Showing posts with label transport. Show all posts
Showing posts with label transport. Show all posts
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Moon Day Tourist
I got my first TWO mozzy bites yesterday. They're big and red and freaked me out. (DENGUE FEVER! MALARIA!! ARGGGHHHHHHH!!!) I hadn't brought any citronella oil or mosquito repellent with me, so went out to the store to look for some. The stuff they have here sound like HARDCORE, HEAVY-DUTY, POWER stuff. To the point where I saw the list of chemicals listed and thought "Is this even safe for human use?"
When I turned the bottle around, it was as if it read my mind and I saw printed on the bottle "Safe on skin". Yeah, but "safe" is all relative innit? "Safe" according to WHO? (and I don't mean the World Health Organization. I was shouting out the word "WHO?!")
I bought the lotion anyway (something's better than nothing, right) and also found a mosquito net. They assured me it would fit a double bed, but LOOK! It's just a tad too short. How retarded. Oh well, something's better than nothing, right. I think I'm growing up. They had a hot pink mosquito net option or this blue one. Something told me that sleeping under a hot pink net would just be a tad too bright, so I went for the blue option. It kinda matches the sheets too. :)
Since today's a Moon day holiday with no shala practice, I arranged with my friendly neighbourhood rickshaw driver, Maney, to go sightseeing before lunchtime. While waiting for him to pick me up, I realized my landlord (who lives below me with his family) has customized his front door with his initials. HAHAHA! I love this retro door grill full of S's!
I've just realized I completely FORGOT to take a photo of Maney in his rickshaw. Just in case you think I'm a slavedriver who's sat in the back of an actual rickshaw (y'know... where a guy runs and pulls you along in a carriage behind him, Tintin and The Blue Lotus-style)...
...I'm actually referring to what they call "auto-rickshaws" here. In my part of the world, they call them "tuk tuks", like in Thailand. Y'know, kinda like the 3-wheeler vehicle that's always in Mr. Bean's way.
I sat in the back, flanked by 2 very random posters. I LOOOOOOOOOOVE the random posters they have in India! Apologies for the shaky shots. A rickshaw ride is EXTREMELY bumpy, plus there are plenty of potholes in Mysore roads! One's an almost-soft-porn cartoon poster saying "You are always there by my side", and the other's of a baby saying "You Are Welcome". (see what I mean by RANDOM?)
ZERO SEATBELTS in the backseat. In fact, you could pretty much tumble out on the side where you got in!
At 9am when he picked me up, he brought me to Durga Bhavan for breakfast. A truly local hole-in-the-wall. I had 2 Idly's (a rice flour puff with spicy coconut dip and the other was another spicy red dip with tomatoes) and he ordered me an Upma too (the one on the right - I think it's made from semolina and mixed with dahl and all kinds of tasty spices). Pretty heavy and stodgy compared to my regular muesli with rice milk back in Amsterdam! Of course, I had to have a black coffee with brekkie too. It tasted kind of different, like it had some kind of spice in it. We bumped into another yogi who also knew Maney and I made my first friend in Mysore (OK, not friend, more like acquaintance at this point!) She said maybe it's Chicory they have in the coffee here that makes it taste different. :)
While we were there, Maney pointed out another lady and said "You know Tina's restaurant? That's Tina there! Also having breakfast here!" I didn't know of Tina's restaurant so Maney said he'd show me where on the way back.
On the way to the market in the middle of town, we passed by rows and rows of what looked like carpets on the side of the road. "EH?!" I asked Maney... He replied "It's the washing! There's a laundry service in this area!" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! This road is probably the busiest around, with loads of dirt and dust being kicked up by the passing traffic. It's probably the dirtiest clean clothes around!
Here comes the obligatory Out-Of-My-Way-Cow! shot. TWO cows, in fact.
We passed a bamboo village on the way to town. The whole area pretty much lives on bamboo - from the shacks they live in, to the weaved baskets they sell. (Sorry, more shaky shots from the back of the rickshaw!) See the wall lined with bamboo? It looks like a wall made from dirt bricks and bamboo, and the whole village of shacks has walls built just like that!
Finally, we get to Devaraja Market. HOLY MOLY! This place is pretty insane! It's just rows and rows and rows of stuff for sale! There are different sections for vegetables, fruit, meat (I didn't really wanna be confronted by hanging carcasses so declined to go to the meat section), incense, oils, frying pans... you name it, they had it. In some sections, the vegetables were just tumbling onto the sidewalk and you had to walk around them.
It's pea season, these pea pods were EVERYWHERE!
I thought this was soap. It's actually some form of sugar. BLOCKS OF IT!
Then I met Adil, whom I've heard a lot about through my good friend and first yoga teacher, Denise. He sells oils and incense, and is also your friendly neighbourhood foreign currency exchange dude. He's so lovely and sincere, and took out a photo album of past yogis who come and visit him every year. Another one of my old yoga teachers is also in his album.
Maney and I sat down and had a chat with him and AMAZINGLY, they both know my old teacher from Sydney! Maney said "Eileen? You are her student? I like her very much! One of Guruji's most senior students!" HOLY HELL, this Ashtanga world is SUPER SMALL, innit? Everyone down to the rickshaw driver and oils seller in the local market knows so-and-so and so-and-so?! I find this so MIND-BOGGLING!!
Adil treated us to a cup of Chai (look at me, drinking Chai from EVERYWHERE now... Delhi Belly?! Pffft! AS IF!! Heh.) And then he showed me what you can do with those colourful powders available from every other stall. He mixed a hot pink powder with water and drew a floral pattern on the back of my hand. After the water dried and left a trail of powder on my hand, he just wiped it off and it left a stain of the pattern on my hand! (kinda sorta like henna, although it's not henna). "You can use these powders for everything! Painting, Staining..." Adil said.
Since Adil sells a whole bunch of essential oils that smell real good, I asked if he had citronella (y'know, anything natural's gotta be better than that chemical anti-mozzy repellent I just bought!) He said "Anti mosquito? Then you need Water Lily oil, it's better than Citronella."
Ehhhhhhhhh? That's a first for me! And Water Lily Oil sure as hell smells much lovelier than Citronella. I mean, Citronella smells much better than my chemical lotion but still, there's something sharp and pungent about it... Why not try something different? Rs300 for a 30ml bottle. That's like €5. I didn't think to bargain coz that seems cheap enough, plus there's something about him that I trust. Oops, call me a sucker already, hahaha!
After the market, Maney said he'd take me on a tour of Mysore city. As for visiting the actual tourist attractions, he said "Mysore Palace? Chemundi Hills? You wait till your friends come then I'll take all of you together" (Hear that LiAsh, Tova, Owl and Claudia? I've got our tourguide sorted already!) ;p
Scenes of the Mysore Palace exterior and the big roundabout in front of it.
Maney drove me up a small hill to the Lalitha Mahal Hotel. It's one the Maharajah's other palaces that's now a hotel. He insisted I walk inside and ask them how much a room is per night so that I could check out what the inside of the rooms look like. (HUH?!?) So weird! ...I walked inside and just went round to the back to check out the swimming pool. It looks big and grand on the outside, but is a little crusty and crumbling on the inside. I kind of like that oldskool crustiness about the place. As I was walking back out, I passed by a room that was being made up so got a peek into the room anyway. It felt a bit rude to whip out my camera to snap photos, but er... the room was also oldskool-crusty, complete with princess bed and frills. The whole place just felt like it could do with a big scrub down and fresh coat of paint, but I kinda like that it's a little bit tatty on the edges. :)
I didn't get a good shot of this other random Indian poster. I wish I understood Hindi coz I can't for the life of me begin to comprehend what the heck this is trying to sell! It's a man flanked by the heads of two other men, and below them are 2 heads of LIONS. Yes, LIONS. I mean... HUH?! Right...?
Maney also took me to a few other shops on the way back, but by this time, I was getting kinda overwhelmed by the noise and the people and basically of the people trying to sell you stuff. Every shop he took me to, it just felt like the salesmen were giving you their used-car-sales pitch. I felt like a walking thousand-dollar bill... Y'know, "Eye on the prize. HERE COMES THE FOREIGN SUCKER! LET'S GET HER, BOYS!" Maney kept telling me "Don't buy anything today, just ask the prices first so you know what's out there."
HAHAHA! I must've been Indian in a past life, coz that's pretty much how I shop anyway. Kinda scope out what's out there before I decide on buying anything. He kept reminding me I'm here for a month, so there's no hurry. It's kinda cool with a local looking out for me!
By lunch time, I was pretty much SPENT. Sensory overload. Maney had pointed out where Tina's restaurant is, and I was glad to see the sign said "home cooked food". Compared to all the other places I've eaten at, Tina's prices are pretty pricey (I paid DOUBLE for lunch here than everywhere else I've had lunch so far), but the food is definitely full of home-cooked goodness. And even at double the price, I still only paid €1.30 for lunch. HAHAHAHAHAHA! (Yes, that's ONE euro and thirty cents). And I haven't had a non-Indian meal at all since being here. :D
I am loving India! But I feel like I'm eating my way through India... Can't wait to get back on the mat tomorrow. I might be the only one who comes here for a month of yoga but goes back fatter than when I arrived!
-----
When I turned the bottle around, it was as if it read my mind and I saw printed on the bottle "Safe on skin". Yeah, but "safe" is all relative innit? "Safe" according to WHO? (and I don't mean the World Health Organization. I was shouting out the word "WHO?!")
I bought the lotion anyway (something's better than nothing, right) and also found a mosquito net. They assured me it would fit a double bed, but LOOK! It's just a tad too short. How retarded. Oh well, something's better than nothing, right. I think I'm growing up. They had a hot pink mosquito net option or this blue one. Something told me that sleeping under a hot pink net would just be a tad too bright, so I went for the blue option. It kinda matches the sheets too. :)
Since today's a Moon day holiday with no shala practice, I arranged with my friendly neighbourhood rickshaw driver, Maney, to go sightseeing before lunchtime. While waiting for him to pick me up, I realized my landlord (who lives below me with his family) has customized his front door with his initials. HAHAHA! I love this retro door grill full of S's!
I've just realized I completely FORGOT to take a photo of Maney in his rickshaw. Just in case you think I'm a slavedriver who's sat in the back of an actual rickshaw (y'know... where a guy runs and pulls you along in a carriage behind him, Tintin and The Blue Lotus-style)...
...I'm actually referring to what they call "auto-rickshaws" here. In my part of the world, they call them "tuk tuks", like in Thailand. Y'know, kinda like the 3-wheeler vehicle that's always in Mr. Bean's way.
I sat in the back, flanked by 2 very random posters. I LOOOOOOOOOOVE the random posters they have in India! Apologies for the shaky shots. A rickshaw ride is EXTREMELY bumpy, plus there are plenty of potholes in Mysore roads! One's an almost-soft-porn cartoon poster saying "You are always there by my side", and the other's of a baby saying "You Are Welcome". (see what I mean by RANDOM?)
ZERO SEATBELTS in the backseat. In fact, you could pretty much tumble out on the side where you got in!
At 9am when he picked me up, he brought me to Durga Bhavan for breakfast. A truly local hole-in-the-wall. I had 2 Idly's (a rice flour puff with spicy coconut dip and the other was another spicy red dip with tomatoes) and he ordered me an Upma too (the one on the right - I think it's made from semolina and mixed with dahl and all kinds of tasty spices). Pretty heavy and stodgy compared to my regular muesli with rice milk back in Amsterdam! Of course, I had to have a black coffee with brekkie too. It tasted kind of different, like it had some kind of spice in it. We bumped into another yogi who also knew Maney and I made my first friend in Mysore (OK, not friend, more like acquaintance at this point!) She said maybe it's Chicory they have in the coffee here that makes it taste different. :)
While we were there, Maney pointed out another lady and said "You know Tina's restaurant? That's Tina there! Also having breakfast here!" I didn't know of Tina's restaurant so Maney said he'd show me where on the way back.
On the way to the market in the middle of town, we passed by rows and rows of what looked like carpets on the side of the road. "EH?!" I asked Maney... He replied "It's the washing! There's a laundry service in this area!" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! This road is probably the busiest around, with loads of dirt and dust being kicked up by the passing traffic. It's probably the dirtiest clean clothes around!
Here comes the obligatory Out-Of-My-Way-Cow! shot. TWO cows, in fact.
We passed a bamboo village on the way to town. The whole area pretty much lives on bamboo - from the shacks they live in, to the weaved baskets they sell. (Sorry, more shaky shots from the back of the rickshaw!) See the wall lined with bamboo? It looks like a wall made from dirt bricks and bamboo, and the whole village of shacks has walls built just like that!
Finally, we get to Devaraja Market. HOLY MOLY! This place is pretty insane! It's just rows and rows and rows of stuff for sale! There are different sections for vegetables, fruit, meat (I didn't really wanna be confronted by hanging carcasses so declined to go to the meat section), incense, oils, frying pans... you name it, they had it. In some sections, the vegetables were just tumbling onto the sidewalk and you had to walk around them.
It's pea season, these pea pods were EVERYWHERE!
I thought this was soap. It's actually some form of sugar. BLOCKS OF IT!
Then I met Adil, whom I've heard a lot about through my good friend and first yoga teacher, Denise. He sells oils and incense, and is also your friendly neighbourhood foreign currency exchange dude. He's so lovely and sincere, and took out a photo album of past yogis who come and visit him every year. Another one of my old yoga teachers is also in his album.
Maney and I sat down and had a chat with him and AMAZINGLY, they both know my old teacher from Sydney! Maney said "Eileen? You are her student? I like her very much! One of Guruji's most senior students!" HOLY HELL, this Ashtanga world is SUPER SMALL, innit? Everyone down to the rickshaw driver and oils seller in the local market knows so-and-so and so-and-so?! I find this so MIND-BOGGLING!!
Adil treated us to a cup of Chai (look at me, drinking Chai from EVERYWHERE now... Delhi Belly?! Pffft! AS IF!! Heh.) And then he showed me what you can do with those colourful powders available from every other stall. He mixed a hot pink powder with water and drew a floral pattern on the back of my hand. After the water dried and left a trail of powder on my hand, he just wiped it off and it left a stain of the pattern on my hand! (kinda sorta like henna, although it's not henna). "You can use these powders for everything! Painting, Staining..." Adil said.
Since Adil sells a whole bunch of essential oils that smell real good, I asked if he had citronella (y'know, anything natural's gotta be better than that chemical anti-mozzy repellent I just bought!) He said "Anti mosquito? Then you need Water Lily oil, it's better than Citronella."
Ehhhhhhhhh? That's a first for me! And Water Lily Oil sure as hell smells much lovelier than Citronella. I mean, Citronella smells much better than my chemical lotion but still, there's something sharp and pungent about it... Why not try something different? Rs300 for a 30ml bottle. That's like €5. I didn't think to bargain coz that seems cheap enough, plus there's something about him that I trust. Oops, call me a sucker already, hahaha!
After the market, Maney said he'd take me on a tour of Mysore city. As for visiting the actual tourist attractions, he said "Mysore Palace? Chemundi Hills? You wait till your friends come then I'll take all of you together" (Hear that LiAsh, Tova, Owl and Claudia? I've got our tourguide sorted already!) ;p
Scenes of the Mysore Palace exterior and the big roundabout in front of it.
Maney drove me up a small hill to the Lalitha Mahal Hotel. It's one the Maharajah's other palaces that's now a hotel. He insisted I walk inside and ask them how much a room is per night so that I could check out what the inside of the rooms look like. (HUH?!?) So weird! ...I walked inside and just went round to the back to check out the swimming pool. It looks big and grand on the outside, but is a little crusty and crumbling on the inside. I kind of like that oldskool crustiness about the place. As I was walking back out, I passed by a room that was being made up so got a peek into the room anyway. It felt a bit rude to whip out my camera to snap photos, but er... the room was also oldskool-crusty, complete with princess bed and frills. The whole place just felt like it could do with a big scrub down and fresh coat of paint, but I kinda like that it's a little bit tatty on the edges. :)
I didn't get a good shot of this other random Indian poster. I wish I understood Hindi coz I can't for the life of me begin to comprehend what the heck this is trying to sell! It's a man flanked by the heads of two other men, and below them are 2 heads of LIONS. Yes, LIONS. I mean... HUH?! Right...?
Maney also took me to a few other shops on the way back, but by this time, I was getting kinda overwhelmed by the noise and the people and basically of the people trying to sell you stuff. Every shop he took me to, it just felt like the salesmen were giving you their used-car-sales pitch. I felt like a walking thousand-dollar bill... Y'know, "Eye on the prize. HERE COMES THE FOREIGN SUCKER! LET'S GET HER, BOYS!" Maney kept telling me "Don't buy anything today, just ask the prices first so you know what's out there."
HAHAHA! I must've been Indian in a past life, coz that's pretty much how I shop anyway. Kinda scope out what's out there before I decide on buying anything. He kept reminding me I'm here for a month, so there's no hurry. It's kinda cool with a local looking out for me!
By lunch time, I was pretty much SPENT. Sensory overload. Maney had pointed out where Tina's restaurant is, and I was glad to see the sign said "home cooked food". Compared to all the other places I've eaten at, Tina's prices are pretty pricey (I paid DOUBLE for lunch here than everywhere else I've had lunch so far), but the food is definitely full of home-cooked goodness. And even at double the price, I still only paid €1.30 for lunch. HAHAHAHAHAHA! (Yes, that's ONE euro and thirty cents). And I haven't had a non-Indian meal at all since being here. :D
I am loving India! But I feel like I'm eating my way through India... Can't wait to get back on the mat tomorrow. I might be the only one who comes here for a month of yoga but goes back fatter than when I arrived!
-----
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Indian Embassy Part 2 + New Bike
I wrote the following on Tuesday and have been trying to post it from BlogPress on the iPhone but it's having a "Computer Says No" moment. So I have copied and pasted from there:
Tuesday, Nov 23, 11am:
I am sitting in the Indian Embassy in The Hague, quietly seething. I arrived at 9.50am, 10 minutes before they're officially open, and the waiting room was already crowded.
My queue ticket said 87 and the number on the counter was 54. Like... Seriously?!
I am so tempted to just say "SOD OFF, INEFFICIENT BUREAUCRATS!!" and just pick up a tourist visa through a travel agent when I'm back in Singapore over Christmas. Y'know, do it the civilised way - pay someone else who will sort it out for you in 3 days flat with no hassles.
After all the pellava (spelling?), apparently tourist visas are still accepted and are less of a pain in the ass when you arrive in Mysore (coz with a student visa, you have to go register at the police station on arrival and on departure too. WTF?)
So I had a short practice this morning, knowing I wanted to get here early. Just standing sequence, a forward bend, and the closing sequence. Thank goodness I did coz I currently feel like blowing someone's brains out. If I hadn't practiced, I would've probably wanted to machine-gun down every single person in here.
Tuesday, Nov 23, 11.30am:
I am finally called up by the lady behind the counter (only ONE lady serving something like 100 people). I explain my case and say "You said you'd call me in 1 - 2 weeks and that I shouldn't call you coz you'd call me. It's been 1.5 months and you haven't called, neither have you picked up the phone any time I have called in the past few weeks. So... I am here now to find out what's going on."
She just smiled, took my passport and papers to a back room and said "You wait."
So I waited. And waited. And waited.
By this time, everyone crammed in the waiting room was best friends with each other. "Old timers" who had been there from 10am, like me, were telling people who'd just arrived what the "system" was and where they should go to fill in which forms. There's such a lack of a system or signs that tell you what the process is that we all just had to figure it out and ask other people around us. Like... ?!?
Because the Embassy Lady was sat behind a counter with a perspex/ glass panel shielding her from the rest of us, it was difficult to hear her talk. So she had a microphone. Any time anyone spoke to her in a hushed tone coz they didn't want to announce to the whole room why they were going to India, where they work and what they do for a living... the lady would repeat back to the person OVER THE MICROPHONE everything that he or she had just said to her. So EVERYONE could hear exactly what each other's stories were.
I mean... Seriously?! ZERO PRIVACY. The Embassy Lady even said at one point OVER THE MICROPHONE "What do you do? ...You're a what?! A HAIRDRESSER? But... You have NO HAIR!!"
Of course the whole room cracked up at that point. The poor, hairless hairdresser.
Tuesday, Nov 23, 1.30pm:
I am starving and thirsty. There is no vending machine in sight. There are lots of water cooler bottle holders stacked up, but no water cooler in sight.
I am still waiting. Waiting for WHAT, I have no idea. But since the person before and after me in the queue from this morning are both ALSO waiting, I feel vaguely comforted. Commisery.
Tuesday, Nov 23, 2pm:
Someone says "The interviews have begun".
Interviews? What interviews? What?!
An Indian dude wearing a suit appears from behind a door and starts calling out a name. The said person disappears behind the door with him. There's a big glass window peering right into this interview room, in full view of everyone, so we can all see what's going on inside. It's the most bizarre process!!
Tuesday, Nov 23, 2.30pm:
My name is called and I enter the room. The hairless hairdresser, who's the one right after me in the queue wishes me "Good luck. And hurry up!"
The Embassy Dude-in-a-suit sits there with my case file. All the documents I had given them from a month and a half ago are with him: a letter from KPJAYI requesting a student or yoga visa from whom it may concern, letter from my company confirming my employment in The Netherlands, visa forms stating my intention of why I want to go to India.
Of course he says "So... why you want to go to India?" (thick heavy Indian accent)
I explain why. It is everything that has been painstakingly prepared and written up for him, but still I explain why in the nicest possible way.
Then he starts flipping through all my paperwork. You know when someone is just going through the motions but not really processing anything upstairs? Yup, that was this guy. He made a a big show of rubbing his chin as he looked at my papers (yes, he was LOOKING at them, not READING them).
AND THEN YOU KNOW WHAT HE PROCEEDS TO DO?!????
He takes off his glasses and proceeds to use the arm of his glasses to dig out his ear canal.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I was sooooooooo horrified and in complete disbelief I had to stifle a gasp of shock AND hold back the laughter. Good thing I wasn't facing the window that looked out into the waiting room coz if I had caught anyone else's eye at that point, I would have just been in complete stitches!!
This Dude-in-a-suit was completely for real!! He was asking me questions about yoga while he was still digging at his ear like there was no tomorrow! I didn't know where to look! If I looked at him, I'd be distracted and start staring at his ear (you can imagine the glasses were waving about in the air as the arm was sticking into his ear canal), but I had to maintain eye contact with him in order not to be rude so he could give me my bloody visa! And then he starts asking questions like "What religion are you? ...No religion? Good, good... Your parents? What religion are they? Christian. I see."
Erm... You see the ridiculousness of this situation? All these banal questions as he was nonchalently digging his ear with gusto... You see why I had to stifle my laughter so hard?
And it was at this point YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?!? ...He stopped digging his ear. I had to stop my jaw from dropping when I began to think "Oh shit. What is he going to do with those glasses now? Wear them?"
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
No, he did something even better.
He proceeded to wipe the arm of the glasses, yes the one he had been using to dig away at with gusto, he casually wiped the edge of the glasses arm off WITH HIS FINGERS!! I have no idea what he did with his hands/ fingers after that, coz I couldn't bear it anymore and had to look away. ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
When I turned back, he had put his glasses back on his face.
BLECCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! SO. GROSSED. OUT.
Then he proceeds to say "Yoga visa? What is this yoga visa this school is asking for?"
FOR. CRYING. OUT. LOUD.
If even the Embassy Dude has no idea then it's Game Over. Since I've been hearing that this yoga or student visa is more pain than it's worth, I then proceeded to plant the idea with him that it's probably easier if he just gave me a tourist visa. I said "the school has no registration number yet and they said if you need it in order to give me a student visa, just give me a tourist visa instead because they're still accepting that". This is the god-honest-truth, exactly what KPJAYI had told me when I asked for their school registration number, and this is exactly what I've heard through various other sources too.
Keystone cop aka Embassy Dude-in-a-suit says "Really? Who told you that?"
And I had to repeat myself. I really couldn't believe I was living through this unbelievable process.
Finally, he says "OK. You can go now. Come back at 4pm for your visa." But what visa is this?! I ask the lady behind the counter... and she says "You'll get a tourist visa."
And so there it is guys. I'm getting a tourist visa to go to Mysore. Because nobody knows their arse from their elbow, not even me, and because I told the Dude-in-a-suit "gimme a tourist visa", he gave me a tourist visa. I hope I won't live to regret this! HAHAHA!
FUCKING HELL. A WHOLE FUCKING DAY AT THE BLOODY EMBASSY.
COME BACK AT FOUR?!????
And so I did. Of all the visas sitting in my passport (and I've collected quite a few along the way!)... This one definitely rates pretty highly in memorable experiences (so memorable I never want to go through it again).
The one highlight of my week this week: The new bike arrived! This is what it looks like, fresh out of the giant box it came in:
Yup, it's the same old brand new bike as before. I'm adding the carrier in the front, like before. Except I don't think I'm going for the white wicker basket again. It's pretty, but it's just too heavy. So I'm going for a white plastic milk crate. I figured I might as well conform a little bit to what the Dutchies do. They pretty much all have a plastic milk crate in front of their bikes. :)
In 5 days, I'll be leaving on my whirlwind shoot around the world. I'm thinking of what to pack - we'll be in climates on the opposite ends of the scale: African summer in Cape Town, and butt-cold freezing in Ivalo, Finland (seriously, we googled the temperature at 4.30pm yesterday, and it was already -24 degrees Celsius, that's something like -50 Farenheit or something ridiculous like that).
You know what I'm also crapping my pants about now? I've been so flat-out busy I haven't had a regular ashtanga practice going. I will be making my virgin Mysore trip the most out-of-shape I have ever been.
ACK! (And sorry for the long post. Just feels like I have so much to catch up on, on here!)
-----
Tuesday, Nov 23, 11am:
I am sitting in the Indian Embassy in The Hague, quietly seething. I arrived at 9.50am, 10 minutes before they're officially open, and the waiting room was already crowded.
My queue ticket said 87 and the number on the counter was 54. Like... Seriously?!
I am so tempted to just say "SOD OFF, INEFFICIENT BUREAUCRATS!!" and just pick up a tourist visa through a travel agent when I'm back in Singapore over Christmas. Y'know, do it the civilised way - pay someone else who will sort it out for you in 3 days flat with no hassles.
After all the pellava (spelling?), apparently tourist visas are still accepted and are less of a pain in the ass when you arrive in Mysore (coz with a student visa, you have to go register at the police station on arrival and on departure too. WTF?)
So I had a short practice this morning, knowing I wanted to get here early. Just standing sequence, a forward bend, and the closing sequence. Thank goodness I did coz I currently feel like blowing someone's brains out. If I hadn't practiced, I would've probably wanted to machine-gun down every single person in here.
Tuesday, Nov 23, 11.30am:
I am finally called up by the lady behind the counter (only ONE lady serving something like 100 people). I explain my case and say "You said you'd call me in 1 - 2 weeks and that I shouldn't call you coz you'd call me. It's been 1.5 months and you haven't called, neither have you picked up the phone any time I have called in the past few weeks. So... I am here now to find out what's going on."
She just smiled, took my passport and papers to a back room and said "You wait."
So I waited. And waited. And waited.
By this time, everyone crammed in the waiting room was best friends with each other. "Old timers" who had been there from 10am, like me, were telling people who'd just arrived what the "system" was and where they should go to fill in which forms. There's such a lack of a system or signs that tell you what the process is that we all just had to figure it out and ask other people around us. Like... ?!?
Because the Embassy Lady was sat behind a counter with a perspex/ glass panel shielding her from the rest of us, it was difficult to hear her talk. So she had a microphone. Any time anyone spoke to her in a hushed tone coz they didn't want to announce to the whole room why they were going to India, where they work and what they do for a living... the lady would repeat back to the person OVER THE MICROPHONE everything that he or she had just said to her. So EVERYONE could hear exactly what each other's stories were.
I mean... Seriously?! ZERO PRIVACY. The Embassy Lady even said at one point OVER THE MICROPHONE "What do you do? ...You're a what?! A HAIRDRESSER? But... You have NO HAIR!!"
Of course the whole room cracked up at that point. The poor, hairless hairdresser.
Tuesday, Nov 23, 1.30pm:
I am starving and thirsty. There is no vending machine in sight. There are lots of water cooler bottle holders stacked up, but no water cooler in sight.
I am still waiting. Waiting for WHAT, I have no idea. But since the person before and after me in the queue from this morning are both ALSO waiting, I feel vaguely comforted. Commisery.
Tuesday, Nov 23, 2pm:
Someone says "The interviews have begun".
Interviews? What interviews? What?!
An Indian dude wearing a suit appears from behind a door and starts calling out a name. The said person disappears behind the door with him. There's a big glass window peering right into this interview room, in full view of everyone, so we can all see what's going on inside. It's the most bizarre process!!
Tuesday, Nov 23, 2.30pm:
My name is called and I enter the room. The hairless hairdresser, who's the one right after me in the queue wishes me "Good luck. And hurry up!"
The Embassy Dude-in-a-suit sits there with my case file. All the documents I had given them from a month and a half ago are with him: a letter from KPJAYI requesting a student or yoga visa from whom it may concern, letter from my company confirming my employment in The Netherlands, visa forms stating my intention of why I want to go to India.
Of course he says "So... why you want to go to India?" (thick heavy Indian accent)
I explain why. It is everything that has been painstakingly prepared and written up for him, but still I explain why in the nicest possible way.
Then he starts flipping through all my paperwork. You know when someone is just going through the motions but not really processing anything upstairs? Yup, that was this guy. He made a a big show of rubbing his chin as he looked at my papers (yes, he was LOOKING at them, not READING them).
AND THEN YOU KNOW WHAT HE PROCEEDS TO DO?!????
He takes off his glasses and proceeds to use the arm of his glasses to dig out his ear canal.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I was sooooooooo horrified and in complete disbelief I had to stifle a gasp of shock AND hold back the laughter. Good thing I wasn't facing the window that looked out into the waiting room coz if I had caught anyone else's eye at that point, I would have just been in complete stitches!!
This Dude-in-a-suit was completely for real!! He was asking me questions about yoga while he was still digging at his ear like there was no tomorrow! I didn't know where to look! If I looked at him, I'd be distracted and start staring at his ear (you can imagine the glasses were waving about in the air as the arm was sticking into his ear canal), but I had to maintain eye contact with him in order not to be rude so he could give me my bloody visa! And then he starts asking questions like "What religion are you? ...No religion? Good, good... Your parents? What religion are they? Christian. I see."
Erm... You see the ridiculousness of this situation? All these banal questions as he was nonchalently digging his ear with gusto... You see why I had to stifle my laughter so hard?
And it was at this point YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?!? ...He stopped digging his ear. I had to stop my jaw from dropping when I began to think "Oh shit. What is he going to do with those glasses now? Wear them?"
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
No, he did something even better.
He proceeded to wipe the arm of the glasses, yes the one he had been using to dig away at with gusto, he casually wiped the edge of the glasses arm off WITH HIS FINGERS!! I have no idea what he did with his hands/ fingers after that, coz I couldn't bear it anymore and had to look away. ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
When I turned back, he had put his glasses back on his face.
BLECCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! SO. GROSSED. OUT.
Then he proceeds to say "Yoga visa? What is this yoga visa this school is asking for?"
FOR. CRYING. OUT. LOUD.
If even the Embassy Dude has no idea then it's Game Over. Since I've been hearing that this yoga or student visa is more pain than it's worth, I then proceeded to plant the idea with him that it's probably easier if he just gave me a tourist visa. I said "the school has no registration number yet and they said if you need it in order to give me a student visa, just give me a tourist visa instead because they're still accepting that". This is the god-honest-truth, exactly what KPJAYI had told me when I asked for their school registration number, and this is exactly what I've heard through various other sources too.
Keystone cop aka Embassy Dude-in-a-suit says "Really? Who told you that?"
And I had to repeat myself. I really couldn't believe I was living through this unbelievable process.
Finally, he says "OK. You can go now. Come back at 4pm for your visa." But what visa is this?! I ask the lady behind the counter... and she says "You'll get a tourist visa."
And so there it is guys. I'm getting a tourist visa to go to Mysore. Because nobody knows their arse from their elbow, not even me, and because I told the Dude-in-a-suit "gimme a tourist visa", he gave me a tourist visa. I hope I won't live to regret this! HAHAHA!
FUCKING HELL. A WHOLE FUCKING DAY AT THE BLOODY EMBASSY.
COME BACK AT FOUR?!????
And so I did. Of all the visas sitting in my passport (and I've collected quite a few along the way!)... This one definitely rates pretty highly in memorable experiences (so memorable I never want to go through it again).
The one highlight of my week this week: The new bike arrived! This is what it looks like, fresh out of the giant box it came in:
Yup, it's the same old brand new bike as before. I'm adding the carrier in the front, like before. Except I don't think I'm going for the white wicker basket again. It's pretty, but it's just too heavy. So I'm going for a white plastic milk crate. I figured I might as well conform a little bit to what the Dutchies do. They pretty much all have a plastic milk crate in front of their bikes. :)
In 5 days, I'll be leaving on my whirlwind shoot around the world. I'm thinking of what to pack - we'll be in climates on the opposite ends of the scale: African summer in Cape Town, and butt-cold freezing in Ivalo, Finland (seriously, we googled the temperature at 4.30pm yesterday, and it was already -24 degrees Celsius, that's something like -50 Farenheit or something ridiculous like that).
You know what I'm also crapping my pants about now? I've been so flat-out busy I haven't had a regular ashtanga practice going. I will be making my virgin Mysore trip the most out-of-shape I have ever been.
ACK! (And sorry for the long post. Just feels like I have so much to catch up on, on here!)
-----
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
How Do You Motivate Yourself to Practice?
Following Monday's post, there were so many awesome comments from so many awesome people (yes, we're Ashtangis and we're all a little bit intense. Deal with it, thanks!), that I have been thinking more about the state of my practice. (Thinking about my practice? No shit, Sherlock!)
I mean... Now that I'm back in the Dam and coasting along at work (it's the calm before the next big storm), I'm trying to build a routine into this new apartment I've moved into too. And of course, when you talk about routine, the Ashtanga yoga practice figures pretty prominently, right? (HAHA.)
I've been trying a home practice out. I was totally inspired by my practice at the shala in London last month, so I figured I'd ride that wave back here. Unfortunately, the moment I came back to the Dam, I twisted my foot and then had to modify like crazy in order to keep practicing.
Needless to say, it has been quite the struggle. The foot is still not 100%. I can pretty much do most standing poses now, except Utthita Hasta Padangustasana while standing on the left foot (the arch still hurts a bit), and I can't do any lotus poses where the outer top part of the left foot needs to be stretched. UHP is starting to hurt less on the left foot, and I tried it with full extended right leg yesterday, but was WOBBLING LIKE CRAZY. It was like being a beginner all over again.
Practice has started to feel MORE AND MORE like a struggle these days. I guess it's a combination of practicing at home, practicing with a busted foot AND practicing in colder weather. The sun isn't up till 8am these days, so it's HARD to roll out of a toasty bed into the cold and dark living room.
My Sydney teacher used to say "Guruji said if you start your practice in the winter, you will have your practice for life."
It's so true!! The eff-ing freezing cold is such a deterrent.
Hence... You can see why I've been thinking about my practice, right? How to get myself motivated. I'm thinking it's something as simple as: I need to get me to a shala already.
The new-ish ashtanga shala that opened here a few months ago has morning Mysore classes, but as they only have them on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I initially wasn't interested coz... Well... I LIKE MY ROUTINE! What am I supposed to do on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays? Yes, yes, practice at home right? ...At the time, it just didn't seem like the ideal scenario to break up shala and home practices on alternate days.
Now... this idea is more and more appealing, just coz I think I'm at the point now where I need a teacher to motivate me, aka: give me an ass-whooping. HA! Not really... But I miss getting adjustments. I miss the group energy. I miss having an experienced eagle-eye push you just that little bit further, taking you somewhere you never thought was possible before. It's hard to find that in a home practice - you either over-do it or not do enough. And at some point, I feel a little bit lost. I mean... Hello? I've been at Laghuvajrasana for like 10 months now? Sometimes, you are your own best teacher, but sometimes you need a little guidance.
You know how for some people motivation to get on the mat comes in the form of buying a new mat, new yoga clothes or towels or other kinds of paraphernalia? Whatever it takes to get you on that mat. But this time, my motivation to get me to the shala is the most random thing. A rain-suit.
Y'know. Beyond the raincoat, a rain-suit is made up of ugly rain pants and a poncho on top. The Dutch all have one to get around on their bikes in the rain. Sometimes they also carry an umbrella while cycling (this is where having only back-brakes on the pedals comes in handy - no hand-brakes to manouver!)
I have been resisting buying one, purely from an aesthetic point-of-view. They're ugly. Which is kinda stupid coz in the winter it rains even more here than it does in London, and the kind of rain I'm talking about is really like that French phrase: "Il pleut comme un vache qui pisse." (And if you've been to a cow farm, you'll know where that phrase comes from!)
Seriously... Look at this week's weather forecast:
The thought of having to cycle through the cold, dark rain at 6am to get to the shala is giving me the heebyjeebies. (No wonder morning mysore isn't a popular choice here at all!)
Now I also have to work up the nerve to get that FUGLY rain-suit.
The things we do for yoga.
-----
I mean... Now that I'm back in the Dam and coasting along at work (it's the calm before the next big storm), I'm trying to build a routine into this new apartment I've moved into too. And of course, when you talk about routine, the Ashtanga yoga practice figures pretty prominently, right? (HAHA.)
I've been trying a home practice out. I was totally inspired by my practice at the shala in London last month, so I figured I'd ride that wave back here. Unfortunately, the moment I came back to the Dam, I twisted my foot and then had to modify like crazy in order to keep practicing.
Needless to say, it has been quite the struggle. The foot is still not 100%. I can pretty much do most standing poses now, except Utthita Hasta Padangustasana while standing on the left foot (the arch still hurts a bit), and I can't do any lotus poses where the outer top part of the left foot needs to be stretched. UHP is starting to hurt less on the left foot, and I tried it with full extended right leg yesterday, but was WOBBLING LIKE CRAZY. It was like being a beginner all over again.
Practice has started to feel MORE AND MORE like a struggle these days. I guess it's a combination of practicing at home, practicing with a busted foot AND practicing in colder weather. The sun isn't up till 8am these days, so it's HARD to roll out of a toasty bed into the cold and dark living room.
My Sydney teacher used to say "Guruji said if you start your practice in the winter, you will have your practice for life."
It's so true!! The eff-ing freezing cold is such a deterrent.
Hence... You can see why I've been thinking about my practice, right? How to get myself motivated. I'm thinking it's something as simple as: I need to get me to a shala already.
The new-ish ashtanga shala that opened here a few months ago has morning Mysore classes, but as they only have them on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I initially wasn't interested coz... Well... I LIKE MY ROUTINE! What am I supposed to do on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays? Yes, yes, practice at home right? ...At the time, it just didn't seem like the ideal scenario to break up shala and home practices on alternate days.
Now... this idea is more and more appealing, just coz I think I'm at the point now where I need a teacher to motivate me, aka: give me an ass-whooping. HA! Not really... But I miss getting adjustments. I miss the group energy. I miss having an experienced eagle-eye push you just that little bit further, taking you somewhere you never thought was possible before. It's hard to find that in a home practice - you either over-do it or not do enough. And at some point, I feel a little bit lost. I mean... Hello? I've been at Laghuvajrasana for like 10 months now? Sometimes, you are your own best teacher, but sometimes you need a little guidance.
You know how for some people motivation to get on the mat comes in the form of buying a new mat, new yoga clothes or towels or other kinds of paraphernalia? Whatever it takes to get you on that mat. But this time, my motivation to get me to the shala is the most random thing. A rain-suit.
Y'know. Beyond the raincoat, a rain-suit is made up of ugly rain pants and a poncho on top. The Dutch all have one to get around on their bikes in the rain. Sometimes they also carry an umbrella while cycling (this is where having only back-brakes on the pedals comes in handy - no hand-brakes to manouver!)
I have been resisting buying one, purely from an aesthetic point-of-view. They're ugly. Which is kinda stupid coz in the winter it rains even more here than it does in London, and the kind of rain I'm talking about is really like that French phrase: "Il pleut comme un vache qui pisse." (And if you've been to a cow farm, you'll know where that phrase comes from!)
Seriously... Look at this week's weather forecast:
The thought of having to cycle through the cold, dark rain at 6am to get to the shala is giving me the heebyjeebies. (No wonder morning mysore isn't a popular choice here at all!)
Now I also have to work up the nerve to get that FUGLY rain-suit.
The things we do for yoga.
-----
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The Almost-Embassy Trip & WIP Basket Action
Happy Moon Day!!
9.19pm and in an edit session, helping another Producer out. Conference call at 10pm. Since my time to start working isn't till later, I'm blogging on the go. Thanks BlogPress!
Since it was a moon day today, I thought I'd make a trip to the Indian embassy to figure out this vedic studies visa thing for my trip to Mysore. It's all the way in The Hague (y'know... Where the international courts are, where they put people on trial for World War 2 crimes and stuff?) it's a 1hr train ride away from Amsterdam.
If I were going on a regular tourist visa - Which you used to be able to go on until they changed the rules recently - I could get it done by an agent here in Amsterdam. However, this new rule about a yoga visa or student visa or Vedic studies visa seems as mysterious as the Yoga Korunta to everyone. They kinda sorta know it exists, but no one has ever seen it. I don't think it was eaten by ants in the Calcutta library though (HAHA! I made a REALLY silly Yogadork joke!! Actually, that's an Ashtangadork joke coz that info's probably obscure to the other schools of yoga thought)
But I digress.
Because I'm not even on a local Dutch passport, this makes it even more obscure to the visa dudes who don't know what they ought to do with me. So I thought I'd go straight to the source, the Embassy itself. THEY should know, right?!
They're BLOODY USELESS!! Never picking up the phone to answer, and when they FINALLY pick up the phone (calls answered only between 4-5pm on weekdays)... This is the kind of conversation I have:
ME: "Hello, I'd like to inquire about this new vedic studies visa I need to get. What documentation do you require from me?"
PERSON FROM THE MOTHERLAND EMBASSY (PFTMLE): "Oh. You just come to the Embassy and we'll see."
?!?
ME: "Oh-Kaaaaaay. But... What should I bring with me? My passport? Letter from the yoga school? What else do you need?"
PFTMLE: "Oh. I don't know. The person who knows is not picking up. You just come. If we need anything else from you, we'll tell you and you can post it."
... ... ...
So why do I have to take the bloody train an hour out there in the first place?! (On top of this, visa hours are only between 10am - 12pm. I mean seriously, what are they doing all day that they can't answer calls nor give you a visa at any other time?!)
*** END OF RANT ***
To be fair, it seems like it's EVERY single consular section from every single embassy or high commission that seem to have the same kind of laissez-faire attitude. Maybe it's just me. Remember when I had to fly back to Singapore after 1 week in Amsterdam coz the Dutch immigration had screwed up my visa application AFTER I'd already arrived?!
Anyways... If we don't end too late tonight, I might just take the train up tomorrow morning. Apparently it's a beautiful ride through countryside.
Here's work-in-progress action of my bike. I've added a front carrier. It's a very Dutch thing - most bikes have this in the front. Some people leave it blank like this, others add milk crates, boxes or baskets on top of it.
I've ordered the white wicker basket, so it will be attached to this tomorrow!! :)
9.19pm and in an edit session, helping another Producer out. Conference call at 10pm. Since my time to start working isn't till later, I'm blogging on the go. Thanks BlogPress!
Since it was a moon day today, I thought I'd make a trip to the Indian embassy to figure out this vedic studies visa thing for my trip to Mysore. It's all the way in The Hague (y'know... Where the international courts are, where they put people on trial for World War 2 crimes and stuff?) it's a 1hr train ride away from Amsterdam.
If I were going on a regular tourist visa - Which you used to be able to go on until they changed the rules recently - I could get it done by an agent here in Amsterdam. However, this new rule about a yoga visa or student visa or Vedic studies visa seems as mysterious as the Yoga Korunta to everyone. They kinda sorta know it exists, but no one has ever seen it. I don't think it was eaten by ants in the Calcutta library though (HAHA! I made a REALLY silly Yogadork joke!! Actually, that's an Ashtangadork joke coz that info's probably obscure to the other schools of yoga thought)
But I digress.
Because I'm not even on a local Dutch passport, this makes it even more obscure to the visa dudes who don't know what they ought to do with me. So I thought I'd go straight to the source, the Embassy itself. THEY should know, right?!
They're BLOODY USELESS!! Never picking up the phone to answer, and when they FINALLY pick up the phone (calls answered only between 4-5pm on weekdays)... This is the kind of conversation I have:
ME: "Hello, I'd like to inquire about this new vedic studies visa I need to get. What documentation do you require from me?"
PERSON FROM THE MOTHERLAND EMBASSY (PFTMLE): "Oh. You just come to the Embassy and we'll see."
?!?
ME: "Oh-Kaaaaaay. But... What should I bring with me? My passport? Letter from the yoga school? What else do you need?"
PFTMLE: "Oh. I don't know. The person who knows is not picking up. You just come. If we need anything else from you, we'll tell you and you can post it."
... ... ...
So why do I have to take the bloody train an hour out there in the first place?! (On top of this, visa hours are only between 10am - 12pm. I mean seriously, what are they doing all day that they can't answer calls nor give you a visa at any other time?!)
*** END OF RANT ***
To be fair, it seems like it's EVERY single consular section from every single embassy or high commission that seem to have the same kind of laissez-faire attitude. Maybe it's just me. Remember when I had to fly back to Singapore after 1 week in Amsterdam coz the Dutch immigration had screwed up my visa application AFTER I'd already arrived?!
Anyways... If we don't end too late tonight, I might just take the train up tomorrow morning. Apparently it's a beautiful ride through countryside.
Here's work-in-progress action of my bike. I've added a front carrier. It's a very Dutch thing - most bikes have this in the front. Some people leave it blank like this, others add milk crates, boxes or baskets on top of it.
I've ordered the white wicker basket, so it will be attached to this tomorrow!! :)
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
It's ALL Practice!
I have been told by my Yoga-Practice-Angel, aka Fran, to stop obsessing about all the other million and one things in my life and get back to obsessing about Ashtanga (see her comment from previous post.)
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Thanks, Fran! Sometimes we all just need a good kick up the butts. Right? Consider this butt kicked. :)
It's been said many times before that any kind of injury teaches us humility on our mats. It's so true in this case. My busted foot is by no means a yoga injury, but trying to keep up some kind of asana practice has been INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT.
Even getting through any of the seated poses has been awkward. Any time my left foot is moved beyond a certain angle, the muscle where my arch is hurts to high heaven. Easy poses like Janu Sirsasana A become incredibly painful on the foot. Like... SERIOUSLY?! So I end up doing more poses on the right side than on the left... And then end up feeling lopsided and thinking "This can't be good for me." Right?
I feel like a fish out of water without being able to do my regular practice. It's a good reminder to just BLOODY JOYFULLY SURRENDER to where my body is at right now. I feel like such a cop-out, especially after recently getting back into the swing of practice again in London and thinking "I'm NEVER gonna stop practicing again!"
Moral of the story: NEVER say NEVER.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I can still hear my Physio tut-tutting me about not resting my foot enough. I thought finally getting a bike and being mobile again would take some pressure off this foot. As it turns out, I realize now I stop and push off on the bike with my left foot. So any time I come to a stop, the foot goes BAM! on the road and I feel a shock up my arch. Oh shit. (I tried doing it in reverse, pushing off and stopping with the right foot. BUT. My body just doesn't get it. Have you ever tried putting on a shirt the other way around - putting in the arm you DON'T usually put in first? It's a total mindfuck and even after the shirt is on, something feels off-kilter.)
The Universe is obviously making me rethink my situation and circumstances... And the more I think about it, the more it feels like maybe it's making me think about the attachment to practice. I fully believe attachment to practice is GOOD. Sharath said so too during his conference in Sydney. (Sorry, I hate to use the "Sharath said so" phrase too, but look at me using it!!)
A few times in the past week, when the asana practice has become either too physically laboured on the foot or just too much of a mental distraction (I find myself thinking "when will this bloody foot get better?!" then lose focus on breath/ bandhas/ drishti)... I've just stopped completely and moved into a Pranayama practice. Just a simple 10 minute exercise of sitting with only the Ujjayi breath for 10 counts on the inhale and exhale, then moving into Kumbhakas (breath retention) after the inhales/exhales... has made such a BIG difference to my frame of mind.
Maybe it's the Ujjayi breath, but it seems to be able to recharge me much more than my asana practice has in the past couple of weeks. So... it's not quite Pattabhi Jois' Ashtanga Yoga, but I'm practicing a different limb of ashtanga yoga - not the asanas, but the pranayamas. Who cares?! It makes a difference to how I feel, so I'll take what I can get.
I still can't stop that niggling sobbing (no, WAILING) in the back of my mind... MY DROPBACKS!! MY STANDING UP FROM DROPBACKS!!! I just got those back and I'm back to "square one" AGAIN?!? Holyfuckingshitthissucks.
Sorry, bad lady. I'm only human.
The GOOD NEWS is... Today, I emailed KPJAYI coz I still hadn't heard back from them about my application. I sent them a scan of my application form and they replied the same day and said OK, I'm in. (Er... why do they make you snail-mail the application then?!)
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!
I've booked my flight already. ON IT!
Now sorting out this vedic studies visa thingamajig. I'm still in the midst of figuring it out, since I'm not a Dutch local here and things get a little more complicated. I actually have to make a train ride out to The Hague where the Embassy is to personally make the application. Another adventure.
Once I've figured it out, I will definitely post step-by-step info on what YOU need to do to get your ass to Mysore. Everyone seems to be a bit confused by this new yoga student/ vedic studies visa regulation now. So when I know what to do, SO WILL YOU! :)
OK... So now starts the next mild panic of "getting my practice back to where it was" before I get to Mysore. It's been 8 months and I'm still stuck at Laghuvajrasana (moving countries and turning my life upside down might figure into that but I can't see past that now.) Holyfuckingshitthissucks. I am convinced I will be stopped at Supta Kurmasana coz I've completely lost that bind. Then the other voice in my head keeps saying "SO WHAT EVEN IF YOU GET STOPPED AT... AT... NAVASANA?!? SO WHAT?!?!??????"
Trying to joyfully surrender to this process and stop playing mind games with myself. Holyfuckingshitthissucks.
I apologize for all the swearing today.
*End of today's yoga obsession*
On to my next obsession: Finding the perfect wicker basket for the bicycle.
Here's your reminder of what it looks like:
This?
(I'm leaning towards this. But maintaining the all-white look will be a bee-atch!)
Or this?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Thanks, Fran! Sometimes we all just need a good kick up the butts. Right? Consider this butt kicked. :)
It's been said many times before that any kind of injury teaches us humility on our mats. It's so true in this case. My busted foot is by no means a yoga injury, but trying to keep up some kind of asana practice has been INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT.
Even getting through any of the seated poses has been awkward. Any time my left foot is moved beyond a certain angle, the muscle where my arch is hurts to high heaven. Easy poses like Janu Sirsasana A become incredibly painful on the foot. Like... SERIOUSLY?! So I end up doing more poses on the right side than on the left... And then end up feeling lopsided and thinking "This can't be good for me." Right?
I feel like a fish out of water without being able to do my regular practice. It's a good reminder to just BLOODY JOYFULLY SURRENDER to where my body is at right now. I feel like such a cop-out, especially after recently getting back into the swing of practice again in London and thinking "I'm NEVER gonna stop practicing again!"
Moral of the story: NEVER say NEVER.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I can still hear my Physio tut-tutting me about not resting my foot enough. I thought finally getting a bike and being mobile again would take some pressure off this foot. As it turns out, I realize now I stop and push off on the bike with my left foot. So any time I come to a stop, the foot goes BAM! on the road and I feel a shock up my arch. Oh shit. (I tried doing it in reverse, pushing off and stopping with the right foot. BUT. My body just doesn't get it. Have you ever tried putting on a shirt the other way around - putting in the arm you DON'T usually put in first? It's a total mindfuck and even after the shirt is on, something feels off-kilter.)
The Universe is obviously making me rethink my situation and circumstances... And the more I think about it, the more it feels like maybe it's making me think about the attachment to practice. I fully believe attachment to practice is GOOD. Sharath said so too during his conference in Sydney. (Sorry, I hate to use the "Sharath said so" phrase too, but look at me using it!!)
A few times in the past week, when the asana practice has become either too physically laboured on the foot or just too much of a mental distraction (I find myself thinking "when will this bloody foot get better?!" then lose focus on breath/ bandhas/ drishti)... I've just stopped completely and moved into a Pranayama practice. Just a simple 10 minute exercise of sitting with only the Ujjayi breath for 10 counts on the inhale and exhale, then moving into Kumbhakas (breath retention) after the inhales/exhales... has made such a BIG difference to my frame of mind.
Maybe it's the Ujjayi breath, but it seems to be able to recharge me much more than my asana practice has in the past couple of weeks. So... it's not quite Pattabhi Jois' Ashtanga Yoga, but I'm practicing a different limb of ashtanga yoga - not the asanas, but the pranayamas. Who cares?! It makes a difference to how I feel, so I'll take what I can get.
I still can't stop that niggling sobbing (no, WAILING) in the back of my mind... MY DROPBACKS!! MY STANDING UP FROM DROPBACKS!!! I just got those back and I'm back to "square one" AGAIN?!? Holyfuckingshitthissucks.
Sorry, bad lady. I'm only human.
The GOOD NEWS is... Today, I emailed KPJAYI coz I still hadn't heard back from them about my application. I sent them a scan of my application form and they replied the same day and said OK, I'm in. (Er... why do they make you snail-mail the application then?!)
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!
I've booked my flight already. ON IT!
Now sorting out this vedic studies visa thingamajig. I'm still in the midst of figuring it out, since I'm not a Dutch local here and things get a little more complicated. I actually have to make a train ride out to The Hague where the Embassy is to personally make the application. Another adventure.
Once I've figured it out, I will definitely post step-by-step info on what YOU need to do to get your ass to Mysore. Everyone seems to be a bit confused by this new yoga student/ vedic studies visa regulation now. So when I know what to do, SO WILL YOU! :)
OK... So now starts the next mild panic of "getting my practice back to where it was" before I get to Mysore. It's been 8 months and I'm still stuck at Laghuvajrasana (moving countries and turning my life upside down might figure into that but I can't see past that now.) Holyfuckingshitthissucks. I am convinced I will be stopped at Supta Kurmasana coz I've completely lost that bind. Then the other voice in my head keeps saying "SO WHAT EVEN IF YOU GET STOPPED AT... AT... NAVASANA?!? SO WHAT?!?!??????"
Trying to joyfully surrender to this process and stop playing mind games with myself. Holyfuckingshitthissucks.
I apologize for all the swearing today.
*End of today's yoga obsession*
On to my next obsession: Finding the perfect wicker basket for the bicycle.
Here's your reminder of what it looks like:
This?
(I'm leaning towards this. But maintaining the all-white look will be a bee-atch!)
Or this?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
