The second week of ashram life begins fairly uneventfully. In fact, because the daily programme is so structured, and we cannot leave the complex (for the most part) there is very little variation on a day-to-day basis. It starts getting to the stage where I find myself excited by even the most mundane digressions from the daily schedule, like a salt-water nasal-cleansing session. Seriously. Gone are the days of having wine for breakfast. It's now all about the lacto-vegetarianism, yoga and nasal cleansing. Om!
Week 2 though is the week where frustrations and tensions start to surface. A few of our group of friends leave, boredom and the mendacity sets in and Lisa develops a condition that can only be described as "ashram bi-polar" (her words, not mine!) It's fairly understandable though. There is quite simply no escape; from the ashram, from other people and perhaps worst of all, from our own thoughts. And with so much time on our hands, it's safe to say that we've all been doing a lot of thinking. I feel almost plagued by myself and at times I can't stand it.
The dramatic change in weather does very little to boost morale either. A typhoon has hit the coast and the rains have come. And they are HEAVY. It's like being in Scotland, only minus the alcohol for comfort. Everything is damp, dank and festering. Although unlike Scotland, still uncomfortably hot and humid. Anyway, enough of the melancholy...
As the yoga sessions have progressed though, so have our relative abilities. To begin with, I was about as flexible as rusty nail, but come the end of week 2 I actually manage to do a headstand. Ok, so obviously it's a bit wobbly, I can only hold it for about 7 seconds, and I got so excited I fell straight back over again, but FUCK IT, I still managed. On our last day of yoga, Adite, our lovely teacher, tells me and Lisa that we are no longer beginners, but intermediates. It's all so heartwarming. And if nothing else, at least we have progressed (as opposed to regressed, which I feel I have done mentally...)
Although communal life is ok (if you discount the noise of someone hawking up a ton of phlegm every morning, the cat that cries at 4am and the perpetual noise of shagging lions from the sanctuary across the lake)perhaps one of the main drawbacks of life in the ashram - and particularly in such a tropical location - is the tendency towards bug infestations. They are all too frequent and a total pain in the ass. Lizards in the beds, mosquitoes that get EVERYWHERE and locusts the size of my fist...the places is literally crawling. One afternoon, after a blissed out yoga session, me and Lisa return to our bed recess to discover a trail of ants marching down from the window and in to our bags and clothes. Needless to say the feelings of yoga-induced serenity don't last very long, and I'm quickly in a total rage. The ants are everywhere; my make up bag (eating sugar-coated tablets!), my laundry, and worst of all, my knickers. Yes, I literally had ants in my pants. Hideous. And to make matters worse, they've chomped little holes in a few of them. I will wash, but I will never be clean.
We perform and ant-massacre and rid ourselves of them (going to have to do lots of karma yoga to make up for this), but whenever someone throws any food in a bin they will inevitably return. So sadly, ants is one part of the ashram that we're stuck with whether we like it or not.
We near the end of our 15 night stint, and by the end it's safe to say we're all gagging for the vices that we weren't able to indulge in while there. It's been an incredible experience, and one that I would most definitely repeat (if only for the yoga and meeting some great people). I'm still not convinced that chanting is really for me (though the chants are cemented in my mind, probably forever), but taken with a pinch of salt (and laterally, a few wines)then it's all in good fun.
And it's not only namaste to the ashram, but namaste to south-west India. In a complete change of scenery, me and Lisa are flying north to Calcutta. So it's off to the airport we go....
Tuesday, 17 January 2012
Monday, 16 January 2012
Ashram Week One: Om, Talent Shows and a Heaven-Sent Yoga Teacher
Despite being apprehensive that staying at the ashram was going to madden/kill/brainwash me, it's been a lot more fruitful than i could have expected. The 5 am wake-up calls are bearable, the yoga is blissful and even the chanting isn't as rage-inducing as it could be. The sound of mating lions across the lake is generally our wake-up call (closely followed by an impossibly happy lady who wanders around lilting "Om Namah Sivayah").
Despite being frequented by some of the most pretentious people I've ever encountered, there are lots of lovely people at the ashram, and soon there are 7 or 8 of us who spend most of our free time hanging out, telling dirty jokes, skipping satsang and talking about boys. It's all very rebellious. Plus, I am harbouring two valium and and pack of paracetamol in my bag, so already feeling illegal; like I've smuggled fags to summer camp or something.
I have also struck it lucky with my "karma yoga" (self-service to the ashram) and spend an hour in the afternoons working in the Health Hut - a little shack that sells fruits, milkshakes, smoothies and other lacto-vegetarian nutritionally balanced goods to people. The only downside of the job? When someone orders, I have to announce that their order is ready over the speakers. By saying "Om...your juice is ready" etc. There are many times in my life when I feel like a total twat. And this is one of them. (still better than being given the job of cleaning the toilets though!)
Aside from the intense daily programme that barely alters, week one activities include a nighttime silent walk to a lake (aka mosquito-fest), an in-depth talk on the benefits of ayurvedic medicine, an utterly brilliant Kathakali performance (yes, really!) and a video on the founders of the ashram.
Then of course, on Saturday nights, there is the obligatory talent show. The Ashram Factor, Ashram's Got Talent - whatever you want to call it, it was a much-needed break from the usual chanting. Though frustratingly, some people seem to think that chanting can be considered a talent, and get on stage to tunelessly repeat "Jaya Ganesha" and other devotional phrases. (Please note: aimlessly banging a tambourine and repeating religious phrases is not a talent It's tedious). When the talent show is finished, we all dutifully queue up to receive our Saturday night treat. Excitement is mounting. What could it be? Chocolate? Crisps? A pint? Well no, actually. It's 3 grapes each. I know - 3 WHOLE GRAPES. It strikes me that perhaps I'm at fat-camp and no-one has told me.
The real saving grace of the whole experience definitely is the yoga though. I consistently feel great afterwards, and am experiencing a sensation that my body hasn't had the priveledge of feeling in years; healthiness. I can sleep easier, I'm enveloped in a wave of serenity and am tangibly relaxed. Our afternoon yoga teachers are fantastic too; a French lady who I could listen to all day (and who had me soothed in to sleep in the first class) and the smiliest Indian boy called Sujith, who is super bendy.
So, week one has been a resounding success. Here's hoping the second week will prove just as promising...
Despite being frequented by some of the most pretentious people I've ever encountered, there are lots of lovely people at the ashram, and soon there are 7 or 8 of us who spend most of our free time hanging out, telling dirty jokes, skipping satsang and talking about boys. It's all very rebellious. Plus, I am harbouring two valium and and pack of paracetamol in my bag, so already feeling illegal; like I've smuggled fags to summer camp or something.
I have also struck it lucky with my "karma yoga" (self-service to the ashram) and spend an hour in the afternoons working in the Health Hut - a little shack that sells fruits, milkshakes, smoothies and other lacto-vegetarian nutritionally balanced goods to people. The only downside of the job? When someone orders, I have to announce that their order is ready over the speakers. By saying "Om...your juice is ready" etc. There are many times in my life when I feel like a total twat. And this is one of them. (still better than being given the job of cleaning the toilets though!)
Aside from the intense daily programme that barely alters, week one activities include a nighttime silent walk to a lake (aka mosquito-fest), an in-depth talk on the benefits of ayurvedic medicine, an utterly brilliant Kathakali performance (yes, really!) and a video on the founders of the ashram.
Then of course, on Saturday nights, there is the obligatory talent show. The Ashram Factor, Ashram's Got Talent - whatever you want to call it, it was a much-needed break from the usual chanting. Though frustratingly, some people seem to think that chanting can be considered a talent, and get on stage to tunelessly repeat "Jaya Ganesha" and other devotional phrases. (Please note: aimlessly banging a tambourine and repeating religious phrases is not a talent It's tedious). When the talent show is finished, we all dutifully queue up to receive our Saturday night treat. Excitement is mounting. What could it be? Chocolate? Crisps? A pint? Well no, actually. It's 3 grapes each. I know - 3 WHOLE GRAPES. It strikes me that perhaps I'm at fat-camp and no-one has told me.
The real saving grace of the whole experience definitely is the yoga though. I consistently feel great afterwards, and am experiencing a sensation that my body hasn't had the priveledge of feeling in years; healthiness. I can sleep easier, I'm enveloped in a wave of serenity and am tangibly relaxed. Our afternoon yoga teachers are fantastic too; a French lady who I could listen to all day (and who had me soothed in to sleep in the first class) and the smiliest Indian boy called Sujith, who is super bendy.
So, week one has been a resounding success. Here's hoping the second week will prove just as promising...
Friday, 13 January 2012
Sivanada Ashram, Kerala: Yoga, Meditation and Chanting Hare Krishna...
Excited at the prospect of becoming toned paragons of yoga-virtue, we leave Varkala at midday the next day, suitably high on our last fix of caffeine/chocolate/insert other junk food, for the next 2 weeks.
Our destination is the Sivananda Ashram at Neyyar Dam in southern Kerala, where we have decided to spend 2 weeks learning hatha yoga, meditating and chanting about various Hindu gods (seriously!) So...what do we already know about the ashram experience before we go? Well...
1. It's an intense daily programme that starts at 5.20am, and features 4 hours of yoga daily, 4 hours of meditation and chanting daily, and various lectures and tasks to occupy us during the day.
2. Contraband items include cigarettes, alcohol, caffeine, onions, garlic, mushrooms, sugar, spices and fun. (well, not really the last bit. but with all these banned items, you'd think fun wasn't allowed either)
3. Women must dress conservatively. No shoulders, cleavage or leg to be displayed, and no tight clothing (must rethink entire wardrobe)
4. Silence must be kept between 10pm and 8am and during mealtimes. (fuck, this is going to be IMPOSSIBLE for me!)
5. No phones
6. Men and women should avoid contact...no kissing, holding hands etc.
7. If ladies have their period then they are forbidden from the temple area. Cos yer dirty!
8. Each attendee must dedicate a proportion of their day doing karma yoga - selfless service towards the maintenance of the ashram.
9. 2 meals per day are served, at 10am and 6pm, and are lacto-vegetarian. Rice, beans, dal, broth etc...
10. Non-sattvic (impure) books and literature are frowned upon
11. Nae shoes. Anywhere. Great. Bring on the dirty feet, calluses, verrucas, warts....
Despite knowing all this before arriving, we are undeterred by all the rules and decide that we're giving it a go. So me and Lisa, joined by Mel and Lisa, two girls we meet in Varkala, start the fairly long pilgrimage to the ashram and eventually arrive about 6pm. It's set in 12 acres of jungle-like forest, and is absolutely beautiful.
Unwittingly though, we've arrived at probably the most daunting time to arrive; Satsang.
Satsang is a twice-daily meditation/chanting/prayer session that takes places in a large (almost) open-air hall right in the centre of the ashram action. So, as we are checking in and signing a variety of pledges about keeping silence and refuting fun etc, we are greeted by the sounds of around 200 people (most of who are dressed in yellow and white) chanting "hare krishna, hare krishna" and other fairly ominous-sounding mantras.
Naturally my first thought it "dear god, not the hare krishnas". I can't speak much for other cities around the world, but anyone who has walked down the street in Glasgow on a Saturday afternoon will know that the hare krishnas are a ferocious and determined bunch (aka really-fucking-irritating) and trying to avoid them is like trying not to step on a landmine. What if they try to convert me? Or even worse, what if I'm brainwashed? Dear god, what have we signed up for....?!
After we're shown to our room (a dormitory shared by 35 women...), it's time for some food and a whistle-stop tour of the ashram. Dinner is a mysterious rice-and-beans concoction (no-one ever tells what you are eating, and no-one ever seems to know exactly what it is. We all just mindlessly shovel bland, brown coloured food in to our mouths with our fingers), washed down the reddish coloured water that has apparently been boiled with 'special' ayurvedic herbs... Of course, I'm already convinced that "it's in the water." I'm not entirely sure what "it" is, but as every predictable psychological thriller dictates, it's in the water.
Luckily, we've arrived late enough to avoid getting too involved in the evening activities, so unpack and try to sort ourselves out, ready for our first 5.20am start.
And the start of our own 2 week personal psychological thriller...
Our destination is the Sivananda Ashram at Neyyar Dam in southern Kerala, where we have decided to spend 2 weeks learning hatha yoga, meditating and chanting about various Hindu gods (seriously!) So...what do we already know about the ashram experience before we go? Well...
1. It's an intense daily programme that starts at 5.20am, and features 4 hours of yoga daily, 4 hours of meditation and chanting daily, and various lectures and tasks to occupy us during the day.
2. Contraband items include cigarettes, alcohol, caffeine, onions, garlic, mushrooms, sugar, spices and fun. (well, not really the last bit. but with all these banned items, you'd think fun wasn't allowed either)
3. Women must dress conservatively. No shoulders, cleavage or leg to be displayed, and no tight clothing (must rethink entire wardrobe)
4. Silence must be kept between 10pm and 8am and during mealtimes. (fuck, this is going to be IMPOSSIBLE for me!)
5. No phones
6. Men and women should avoid contact...no kissing, holding hands etc.
7. If ladies have their period then they are forbidden from the temple area. Cos yer dirty!
8. Each attendee must dedicate a proportion of their day doing karma yoga - selfless service towards the maintenance of the ashram.
9. 2 meals per day are served, at 10am and 6pm, and are lacto-vegetarian. Rice, beans, dal, broth etc...
10. Non-sattvic (impure) books and literature are frowned upon
11. Nae shoes. Anywhere. Great. Bring on the dirty feet, calluses, verrucas, warts....
Despite knowing all this before arriving, we are undeterred by all the rules and decide that we're giving it a go. So me and Lisa, joined by Mel and Lisa, two girls we meet in Varkala, start the fairly long pilgrimage to the ashram and eventually arrive about 6pm. It's set in 12 acres of jungle-like forest, and is absolutely beautiful.
Unwittingly though, we've arrived at probably the most daunting time to arrive; Satsang.
Satsang is a twice-daily meditation/chanting/prayer session that takes places in a large (almost) open-air hall right in the centre of the ashram action. So, as we are checking in and signing a variety of pledges about keeping silence and refuting fun etc, we are greeted by the sounds of around 200 people (most of who are dressed in yellow and white) chanting "hare krishna, hare krishna" and other fairly ominous-sounding mantras.
Naturally my first thought it "dear god, not the hare krishnas". I can't speak much for other cities around the world, but anyone who has walked down the street in Glasgow on a Saturday afternoon will know that the hare krishnas are a ferocious and determined bunch (aka really-fucking-irritating) and trying to avoid them is like trying not to step on a landmine. What if they try to convert me? Or even worse, what if I'm brainwashed? Dear god, what have we signed up for....?!
After we're shown to our room (a dormitory shared by 35 women...), it's time for some food and a whistle-stop tour of the ashram. Dinner is a mysterious rice-and-beans concoction (no-one ever tells what you are eating, and no-one ever seems to know exactly what it is. We all just mindlessly shovel bland, brown coloured food in to our mouths with our fingers), washed down the reddish coloured water that has apparently been boiled with 'special' ayurvedic herbs... Of course, I'm already convinced that "it's in the water." I'm not entirely sure what "it" is, but as every predictable psychological thriller dictates, it's in the water.
Luckily, we've arrived late enough to avoid getting too involved in the evening activities, so unpack and try to sort ourselves out, ready for our first 5.20am start.
And the start of our own 2 week personal psychological thriller...
Saturday, 7 January 2012
Varkala, Kerala: Stalkers, Canoeing and Super-Spiders
After our crazy night in Kochin, we leave the next morning for Varkala, further down the Keralan coast. It's a beach resort, but with a twist. On the south cliff, travellers and tourists alike swim, drink sneaky beer and cocktails (Kerala is a dry state, so booze is contraband) and buy tat from the markets. And on the North cliff, Hindu's make a pilgrimage to wash the ashes of their dead relatives in to the surf, on a daily basis. Something for everyone!
We arrive and find a place to stay, just two minutes from the beach. It's clean, spacious and everything seems oh-just-tickety-boo until DISASTER strikes in the form of a arachnid. And not just your standard little spider. This one is leering at me from the corner of the room, with a body the same size as my head and legs like Cindy Crawford. Horrific. After a major shit-fit, Lisa summons the owner, who safely removes el-spidre. But the damage is already done. I can hardly sleep and when we wake up the next day, I have basically mounted Lisa (much to her delight, as you can imagine...)
So, pathetically, we change rooms. No need to judge me on this, I have already heavy-judged myself. But it has to be done.
We send most of our time in Varkala laying on the beach, reading (I am a reading machine on this trip!) and swimming. And it's bliss. Although slightly more touristy than we initially anticipated, Varkala is beautiful. Huge crashing waves and deep red sunsets and suchlike. And it's an ideal place to stay for exploring a bit more of Kerala. A bit bored by our lazy beach antics, we decide to head in to Kollam one day, to take a back-waters canoe tour. The backwaters of Kerala are a network of tranquil waterways and canals that are totally unspoiled and abundant in flora and fauna.
We charter a canoe for the afternoon and spend a few hours idly cruising along the canals. It's completely idyllic, unadulterated India. There are no ear-splitting car horns, no tourists, no sneaky masturbators/urinators/general creeps. In fact, there's barely anther person in sight at all, apart from the locals who use the waterways to bathe and wash their clothes. Total bliss.
Back in Varkala, most of our nights are spent sampling the cocktails in the bars on the North Cliff. On our 2nd night, we randomly bump in to Dave ("I'm 22 and I just like cartoons..."), an English guy who we first met in Anjuna, and then ran in to again in Palolem and Mysore completely serendipitous-ly (I love it when that happens!) He's travelling with his uncle and aunt, and they are out most nights, so we join them for drinks and chat.
On one occasion, there are a few of us out at an Indian-Australian run bar which makes a big effort and hosts musicians, events and puts on fireworks for people. It's hugely popular, and packed out with people all drinking cocktails and beers from teapots and cups. So far so illicit. The music and fireworks are great and the atmosphere is buzzing, until:
1. Paul - strange guy who fancied Lisa in Cochin - appeared at our table. He didn't say a single word; just stood staring at us in silence. Then walked away, to continue staring from a different vantage point. Awkward to say the least! And a bit creepy.
2 All-of-a-sudden every waiter in the place quite literally drops what he is doing and makes a run for it. The local police have arrived, and within a few minutes, all the bev has been confiscated (NOOOOOO!), the power has been cut and the owner has had to go on he run to avoid a hefty jail sentence.
None of the bars in Varkala are licensed, but avoid the prohibition issue by paying the police huge baksheesh for the privilege of having a blind eye turned towards it. Discretion (ie serving alcohol in teacups etc) is usually enough. But because this particular bar is run by an Australian-Indian couple (inter-racial...how scandalous!), the police will not accept baksheesh, and have made it their mission to try and expose the Australian lady as being some sort of illegal immigrant. Which, of course, she is not. It's simply another example of endemic Indian corruption. Something's definitely rotten in the state of Kerala though...
We spend just over a week in Varkala, and by the time we leave, our plans have changed completely. Instead of heading eastwards to Pondicherry in Tamil Nadu, we decide to go to the Sivananda Vedanta Ashram a couple hours away, for some yoga, meditation and chanting.
A bit of soul-searching is just what the (ayurvedic, holistic) doctor ordered...
We arrive and find a place to stay, just two minutes from the beach. It's clean, spacious and everything seems oh-just-tickety-boo until DISASTER strikes in the form of a arachnid. And not just your standard little spider. This one is leering at me from the corner of the room, with a body the same size as my head and legs like Cindy Crawford. Horrific. After a major shit-fit, Lisa summons the owner, who safely removes el-spidre. But the damage is already done. I can hardly sleep and when we wake up the next day, I have basically mounted Lisa (much to her delight, as you can imagine...)
So, pathetically, we change rooms. No need to judge me on this, I have already heavy-judged myself. But it has to be done.
We send most of our time in Varkala laying on the beach, reading (I am a reading machine on this trip!) and swimming. And it's bliss. Although slightly more touristy than we initially anticipated, Varkala is beautiful. Huge crashing waves and deep red sunsets and suchlike. And it's an ideal place to stay for exploring a bit more of Kerala. A bit bored by our lazy beach antics, we decide to head in to Kollam one day, to take a back-waters canoe tour. The backwaters of Kerala are a network of tranquil waterways and canals that are totally unspoiled and abundant in flora and fauna.
We charter a canoe for the afternoon and spend a few hours idly cruising along the canals. It's completely idyllic, unadulterated India. There are no ear-splitting car horns, no tourists, no sneaky masturbators/urinators/general creeps. In fact, there's barely anther person in sight at all, apart from the locals who use the waterways to bathe and wash their clothes. Total bliss.
Back in Varkala, most of our nights are spent sampling the cocktails in the bars on the North Cliff. On our 2nd night, we randomly bump in to Dave ("I'm 22 and I just like cartoons..."), an English guy who we first met in Anjuna, and then ran in to again in Palolem and Mysore completely serendipitous-ly (I love it when that happens!) He's travelling with his uncle and aunt, and they are out most nights, so we join them for drinks and chat.
On one occasion, there are a few of us out at an Indian-Australian run bar which makes a big effort and hosts musicians, events and puts on fireworks for people. It's hugely popular, and packed out with people all drinking cocktails and beers from teapots and cups. So far so illicit. The music and fireworks are great and the atmosphere is buzzing, until:
1. Paul - strange guy who fancied Lisa in Cochin - appeared at our table. He didn't say a single word; just stood staring at us in silence. Then walked away, to continue staring from a different vantage point. Awkward to say the least! And a bit creepy.
2 All-of-a-sudden every waiter in the place quite literally drops what he is doing and makes a run for it. The local police have arrived, and within a few minutes, all the bev has been confiscated (NOOOOOO!), the power has been cut and the owner has had to go on he run to avoid a hefty jail sentence.
None of the bars in Varkala are licensed, but avoid the prohibition issue by paying the police huge baksheesh for the privilege of having a blind eye turned towards it. Discretion (ie serving alcohol in teacups etc) is usually enough. But because this particular bar is run by an Australian-Indian couple (inter-racial...how scandalous!), the police will not accept baksheesh, and have made it their mission to try and expose the Australian lady as being some sort of illegal immigrant. Which, of course, she is not. It's simply another example of endemic Indian corruption. Something's definitely rotten in the state of Kerala though...
We spend just over a week in Varkala, and by the time we leave, our plans have changed completely. Instead of heading eastwards to Pondicherry in Tamil Nadu, we decide to go to the Sivananda Vedanta Ashram a couple hours away, for some yoga, meditation and chanting.
A bit of soul-searching is just what the (ayurvedic, holistic) doctor ordered...
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