Wordy

Softy ice cream shop, Scooty brand mopeds, diapers called Snuggy, and a fruit spread that comes in a tube: Squeezy.

Lovey!

Escape From New York. Again.

Last year, as September 11 approached, conversations with my shrink, my friends and my parents went something like this, "I can't be there. I really can't be there. Maybe I should be there. Maybe it would be good for me. I can't be there. Wait, what if I tried to be there?" and eventually I ended up at Kripalu, which was, as far as not reminding you of the place you don't want to be goes, just fine.

It's hard to separate a lot of what I've been going through over the past two years from that day. Sometimes I think my life hasn't changed at all, other times I realize it's just the opposite. I just don't know if the day will come when I have to be in New York on September 11 and I won't feel like I do just thinking about it now: horrified, scared and sad.

Dancing in the Dark

Erik writes in sounding quite worried: Do you have any music over there to listen to?? I assume you have the ipod ... but isn't there like a different type of electricity over there???? These are my concerns, yes. I just need to know that you aren't starved of Eggstone.

Ah, fret not! I was getting used to Bollywood anthems and strange moments of Western music (last night at our hotel, Anna and I sat down to dinner while they blasted Eminem; the cafe closest to the hotel--Cafe Random, we call it--was playing classic rock as well as Royksopp the other night) but, for Erik, I busted out the iPod last night. I would like to say that I spent a peaceful hour listening to mellow electronica, but the truth is that I searched out every song with a steady beat and shimmied around, practicing my bellydancing moves, ignoring the power outages that left my room dark for several minutes at a time. It was a total solo dance party--not the same to be in India instead of E's Harlem apartment or the kitchen of my old place on 20th Street, or even to kick it old-school style with Danny in a dorm room, blasting disco, but breathless fun nonetheless.

And yes, I listened to Eggstone. LIke you had to remind me.

Follow the Sound

Today in our philosophy class, Menaka was translating one of the Yoga Sutras, and she translated a word--sabdajnananupati--as "following the sound and getting an idea." Which gave me a thought of my own: If you are bored with the radio, saddened by the current state of music, can't stop wishing for well-written songs and a lovely lady to sing them, please go get yourself a copy of Kendall's totally rad record and then join me in counting down the days 'til she releases her next. Her new baby, Red Panda Records promises to be every bit as amazing as she is.

Naked Beneath My Clothes

Sometimes I think India is a 12-step program designed to encourage me to let go of my control-freaky ways, forcing me to walk into traffic without a crosswalk; barter for rickshaw fares; gaze at the bugs that reside on my hotel room wall and shrug; notice ice cubes in my drink and think "Whatev" after a moment of "Omigod I am going to contract some horrible disease!" This morning in our asana class, I even tried ican'trememberthesanskritname (reverse plank), traditionally a pose I avoid, just for kicks.

In my own neurotic way I am going with the flow, probably a side effect of spending all my time with people who talk about experience and energy and the moment with total comfort, while I am usually snickering at myself a little inside.

So yesterday, while getting a massage, I found myself naked, lying on my back, covered only by a towel from the waist down (not a usual occurence for those of you who've never had a massage), I was thinking, "Well, this is an interesting experience" and then, a bit later, "Holy shit, I was naked with a stranger."

I'm not sure if this was a breakthrough or if I'm now going to start stripping.

Happy Birthday, Momlet

Today is my mom's birthday! She has done nothing but inspire and encourage me to live a rich life, full of creativity and love, and for that I am so very thankful.

How Much Farther, Papa Smurf?

On our trip, I brought my needlepoint along so I'd have something to do on the bus. Mr. Ramani said, "You are fit to be a yoga teacher. You have patience."

I didn't want to spoil the moment and tell him about the times I've sighed loudly when someone moves slowly in front of me, or the cops asking me, "Do you know how fast you were going?" or how I'm often late because I won't give myself enough time to get from A to B, but needlework (I knit, too) has an almost meditative effect. In repeating the same movements over and over, you're forced to focus.

Baby Love

Babies and children here are beyond adorable, especially when they're decked out with tiny earrings and bell-trimmed anklets that jingle and jangle wherever they go. After our move Sunday night, we collapsed into a booth at a nearby restaurant, and the baby boy sitting behind me kept touching my shoulder and collapsing in giggles. If his parents would've allowed us, I think we would've carted him back with us. The school near KYM lets out at the same time that we go back to class, and the children yell "Hi hi hi hi!" as we walk down the street. The braver ones come up and say, "What is your good name?" or "What is your home country?"

On Sunday's trip, Noel, such a striking anomaly with her red hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, was handed family's babies so that they could get a photo with her. I love the thought of the photo albums: "And here is the baby, with an American girl!"

Whatdidyoudothisweekend?

Kiran, from Delhi, has appointed herself India's goodwill ambassador. She picked up Elizabeth and me in her car (with driver!) to take us shopping Saturday. We went to an enormous silk emporium that was so overwhelming it made my head spin. There were about five floors, each packed floor to ceiling with scrumptious textiles. I walked out empty-handed, but only because I couldn't see straight.

They dropped me off at Spencer Plaza, the closest thing Chennai has to a mall. Walking through the halls was a chorus of "Madam, madam" and urgings to come inside shops for pashminas, jewelry, saris...Whew. I bought some supersoft pashminas for mom and sis and a few embroidered kurtas.

I was content to spend the afternoon alone, but every time I looked up, several faces were staring back at me. I didn't feel unsafe, just awkward. Noel said her teacher told her before she left for KYM, "When you meditate, imagine several people are looking at you." I haven't tried that yet, but I thought about it as I was falling asleep last night; it just creeped me out.

I spent an hour or so in Landmark, a huge department store that anchors one end of the mall. The stationery department was great, but the real reason I stuck around was that they were blasting "It's like that" by RUN-DMC, one of my all-time favorite songs.

Sunday, KYM took us on a little jaunt to Mahabalipuram, a beach town with tons of carved stone temples and ruins. So many of the sites were amazing, but being out in the heat was trying; I got a nice burn on a few spots I missed with the sunscreen. A huge rock balancing on a ridge is called Krishna's Butter Ball. We wondered if Krishna's Toast was nearby. At Dhakshinchitra, a cultural center devoted to the arts and ways of life of South India, I got a beautiful henna design on my foot. It looks like a paisley and matches a bracelet I've bought.

On our way home, Anna and Rebecca and I stopped at another hotel to see the rooms. They seemed nicer, and we were able to negotiate a lower price than what we'd been paying, so we ended up packing up again to move to the new place Sunday night. I took a real shower, with real water pressure, and cranked the air con; no one knocked on my door in the middle of the night, no one was speaking loudly over an intercom at 3am, and I think the room was cleaned at some point in the last year, as opposed to the last decade. It's the little things.

By Popular Demand

You asked, I tell. I've been practicing yoga on and off since 1997. In New York, I attended Om in its first (tiny) location and later Yoga Zone (now Be Yoga). Yoga Zone had several teachers whose classes inspired me. One, Maria Cristina, whose afternoon classes were the highlight of the summer I was laid off, moved to LA and now teaches at City Yoga. If you are in the LA area, I urge you to go!

Around this time, I found Zack, one of the founders of the most excellent The Breathing Project. At the time we met, Zack was teaching at Yoga Zone and later a studio cum wellness center (Haelth) that later closed. With Zack's help, I started to develop a personal practice. I read Heart of Yoga and learned more about the teachings of Krishnamacharya and his son and student, T.K.V. Desikachar; this continues to inspire me and my yoga practice. The individualized approach to yoga is one I believe to be essential for fully realizing the benefits of living yoga. After this epiphany, I knew I wanted to attend KYM, it was just a matter of when.

If you're serious about studying yoga in India, you may want to read this book. It focuses mostly on ashrams and pilgrimage sites, but the big yoga institutes are all there. One caveat: this was published in 1999, and I know some of the info about KYM is out of date. I haven't read this but it might be helpful as well.

My Imaginary Boyfriend

Friday night after class, Bibi and I planned to do some shopping, and her enterprising rickshaw driver insisted on showing us "very nice shop." We protested, then agreed to go in for five minutes to pacify him.

I browsed through stacks of luscious pashminas while listening to a chorus of "for you, a good price." We turned to leave before noticing a jewelry room off to the side. I'm a silver junkie, and I figured I should just see what's out there. I settled in to try on some bracelets, and Bibi had seen some pieces that would be good for her daughter.

All good business types know you can catch more flies with honey, but Ravees was over the top. After several compliments that I couldn't take seriously, he suggested drinks. "Oh, I'm fine," I said.

"No, no, not here. We will go somewhere nice."
"I don't drink. And besides, I'm very busy with yoga classes. My days are pretty full."
"We can meet late--after 10pm."

I decided to bring up every single woman's fave, MIB (My Imaginary Boyfriend), but Ravees wasn't having any of it. "Why is he not in India?"

"He's very busy with his [imaginary] job."

And so on and so forth, until I'd been invited to his home city, Dehli, but "without your boyfriend, I do not think I would like that."

Much like the men on New York streets who call to you with "Let's go away for the weekend!" I have to wonder: does this approach ever work? Do men ever find someone who says, "Sure!" The real problem is that there is a pair of garnet earrings in his store that I know my sis would love. I fear going back might give Ravees the wrong idea.

Wizards of Oz

How can you not love Aussies? Their beautiful accents, the way they pepper statements with "hey" and "eh" and "mate." They're after my heart with their abbreviations for almost everything ("mossie" for mosquito, "cossie" for bathing costume).

The superchill and always laughing Anna and Rebecca teach yoga in Sydney. Mark and Natalie have been traveling around South Asia for almost a year and they seem unruffled by adjustment; they've already found all the good bookstores and restaurants and have picked up several key phrases in Tamil.

Ben is a sometime model, sweet and gentle and a little shy. His polar opposite is Chris, a rugged hunk who makes jewelry and furniture, surfs, rides a motorcycle, and manages a yoga studio in Adelaide. In other words, swoonworthy.

Sorry, Snake

Hey all. Blogger was down for a bit over the weekend, so bear with me as I catch up on several posts at once. To those of you just joining us, Vanakkam!