We've been back for almost a week now and... it has been hard. Whether it is the jet lag, reverse culture shock, craziness of New York, or returning to find ourselves without homes of our own, jobs, etc. that is the biggest factor in the difficulty of this transition I can't say.
Though I'm living outside the city for now, I have spent most of my days in NY at this point. Things that I expected to find comforting and familiar have been surprisingly upsetting. In India, we looked forward to finally feeling/dressing cute again, now I'm unsettled by the fabulousness of this city. For now at least, I exist in a different reality and am disconnected from what was my former life here. Plans I had no longer seem as relevant and my interests aren't aligned with the life I planned on re-entering. Running into old friends, teachers, etc. is hard.
India feels so far away now; like a distant dream. I kept thinking that with time I'd be able to process it, but now that seems silly. I'm sure we'll both keep learning from it for years. Right now lessons that I thought I had integrated are being forgotten in the context of a different (familiar) city. Especially now that there is so much to do......
One thing that has been wonderful is HSM3. This is my soundtrack these days.
I've got a lot of things I have to do
All these distractions, our future's coming soon
We're being pulled a hundred directions
But whatever happens, I know I've got you
Friday, October 31, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
team yogaheart
today was our last day of class at the shala. we cried cried cried and, with our alcohol tolerances as low as they are (nonexistant), after one beer tonight, we will cry, cry, and cry again.
we're going out with all our yogi buddies--the texan world traveler and his chinese-australian world traveler girlfriend, the guy from brooklyn, the girl from montreal, the irish diver, the denver yogi, the swedish dude...
today: yoga, packing, cleaning, coffee, bus tickets, trying not to nap, more coffee...
and tomorrow, to goa, to process it all on the beach for a few days before heading back to nyc.
we grew into this place, or it grew into us.
we're going out with all our yogi buddies--the texan world traveler and his chinese-australian world traveler girlfriend, the guy from brooklyn, the girl from montreal, the irish diver, the denver yogi, the swedish dude...
today: yoga, packing, cleaning, coffee, bus tickets, trying not to nap, more coffee...
and tomorrow, to goa, to process it all on the beach for a few days before heading back to nyc.
we grew into this place, or it grew into us.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
ten fun facts
1. a monkey almost came into our apartment today. we watched from the window as he ate the papaya peels in our trash. melina said, "it's eating our trash. and it has a penis." I opened the door to try to scare him away just by virtue of my tall presence, i guess, but it backfired. he just sat there and seemed to give me this look like, "oh yeah??" which then scared me. I consequently shrieked, which then scared Melina, which then scared me. we allowed him to continue to eat the papaya peels.
2. we are now gettin around on two wheels: on our "ranger-style" bicycles rented from the coconut man near the grocery store, and on the back of a 1940's royal enfield motorcycle, driven by our irish friend matthew.
3. our bodies hurt. melina has weird hamstring, knee, and other achy, knife-like-pain leg stuff going on; I have fiery hips and something nasty going on with my sacrum. i feel like a marionette with wooden joints.
4. we met a guy from williamsburg today--he's studying yoga at our shala and I believe at one point we were living within 4 blocks of each other.
5. we found a great coffee hut--smoky, dirty, loud, coffee, chai, cookies--where we are always the only women.
6. yesterday we decided to try a different cookie at the coffee hut, and it was a surprise spicy cookie. REALLY SPICY! masala cookie, i say.
7. I made up a song the other day while returning from the produce stand on my bicycle, with two limes in one pocket and two rupees change in the other, thinking: "bikes rule the world!"
if bikes ruled the world
(imagine that)
i'd ride all day long
(i love em love em bay-bey)
black street bikes with spokes
(could it be? if you could be mine, we'd both shine)
if bikes ruled the world.
8. we have a great next door neighbor, carole, who is an ex-painter/printmaker originally from san francisco. she's wildly interesting and has lived a very incredible life. she lets us come over to listen to the debates on NPR, and has saved our drying clothes from monsoon rains more than once.
9. melina made a very successful and hilarious indian joke. the other night we were helping to cook dinner at the shala. melina was grating some carrots, and the girl who is in charge of the kitchen told her to "be careful!" melina said that yeah, she'd better watch out or we would end up with a "non-veg" meal!
10. we love doing deep relaxation exercises before bed with the singaporean couple downstairs. we haven't mentioned the cockroaches, and neither have they.
2. we are now gettin around on two wheels: on our "ranger-style" bicycles rented from the coconut man near the grocery store, and on the back of a 1940's royal enfield motorcycle, driven by our irish friend matthew.
3. our bodies hurt. melina has weird hamstring, knee, and other achy, knife-like-pain leg stuff going on; I have fiery hips and something nasty going on with my sacrum. i feel like a marionette with wooden joints.
4. we met a guy from williamsburg today--he's studying yoga at our shala and I believe at one point we were living within 4 blocks of each other.
5. we found a great coffee hut--smoky, dirty, loud, coffee, chai, cookies--where we are always the only women.
6. yesterday we decided to try a different cookie at the coffee hut, and it was a surprise spicy cookie. REALLY SPICY! masala cookie, i say.
7. I made up a song the other day while returning from the produce stand on my bicycle, with two limes in one pocket and two rupees change in the other, thinking: "bikes rule the world!"
if bikes ruled the world
(imagine that)
i'd ride all day long
(i love em love em bay-bey)
black street bikes with spokes
(could it be? if you could be mine, we'd both shine)
if bikes ruled the world.
8. we have a great next door neighbor, carole, who is an ex-painter/printmaker originally from san francisco. she's wildly interesting and has lived a very incredible life. she lets us come over to listen to the debates on NPR, and has saved our drying clothes from monsoon rains more than once.
9. melina made a very successful and hilarious indian joke. the other night we were helping to cook dinner at the shala. melina was grating some carrots, and the girl who is in charge of the kitchen told her to "be careful!" melina said that yeah, she'd better watch out or we would end up with a "non-veg" meal!
10. we love doing deep relaxation exercises before bed with the singaporean couple downstairs. we haven't mentioned the cockroaches, and neither have they.
Friday, October 10, 2008
change of change of change of "plans"
surprise, friends.
disclaimer: for those of you who didn't know our plans in the first place, this is not a surprise.
we were supposed to have left mysore this morning for coorg, to go on a 4 day trek before heading to goa. but yesterday morning, in the span of about 4 minutes, we decided that we aren't done here, and that we're going to stay for another week. we feel "in the middle" of a lot of things in terms of yoga, and we're very happy to be staying. we were luckily able to keep our apartment.
today for breakfast we ate a papaya/pineapple/sapota fruit salad with wheat germ meusli.
we've also decided that every day after class we're going to climb the 1,000 steps up chamundi hill, and come back down. we may be yogis in india, but we're still overachieving new yorkers at heart.
the other day, melina ACTUALLY said, "I'm walkin' here!"
and she was, friends.
she was.
disclaimer: for those of you who didn't know our plans in the first place, this is not a surprise.
we were supposed to have left mysore this morning for coorg, to go on a 4 day trek before heading to goa. but yesterday morning, in the span of about 4 minutes, we decided that we aren't done here, and that we're going to stay for another week. we feel "in the middle" of a lot of things in terms of yoga, and we're very happy to be staying. we were luckily able to keep our apartment.
today for breakfast we ate a papaya/pineapple/sapota fruit salad with wheat germ meusli.
we've also decided that every day after class we're going to climb the 1,000 steps up chamundi hill, and come back down. we may be yogis in india, but we're still overachieving new yorkers at heart.
the other day, melina ACTUALLY said, "I'm walkin' here!"
and she was, friends.
she was.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
workin' hard in Kochi, Kerala
rowing a boat through the backwaters
Melina and I were the only ones who wanted a piece of the action
safety first! always use the utmost precaution when dealing with electrical equipment
catching our own dinner, and an extra fish for the resident pregnant cat
it's funny
Back in the states, no one can figure out Melina's name. Common interpretations/variations:
Malena
Milena
Malana
Melissa
Alana
Melita
Malika
And back in the states, my name's as common as something that is very common.
But here in India, the name Melina is understood immediately, even celebrated--we've heard there's an Indian celebrity with the same name. This means that we use her name for food orders, hotel reservations, and the semi-obligatory introductions to eager passerby.
The name Kate is feared and looked upon with vague disgust. Various interpretations/variations:
Cage
Kale
Kelly
The guy that thought my name was Cage said that he was very scared of me because he didn't want to be locked inside a cage. I then corrected him, and after that he was very excited to learn that I was "named after" the girl from Titanic, Kate Winslet.
Malena
Milena
Malana
Melissa
Alana
Melita
Malika
And back in the states, my name's as common as something that is very common.
But here in India, the name Melina is understood immediately, even celebrated--we've heard there's an Indian celebrity with the same name. This means that we use her name for food orders, hotel reservations, and the semi-obligatory introductions to eager passerby.
The name Kate is feared and looked upon with vague disgust. Various interpretations/variations:
Cage
Kale
Kelly
The guy that thought my name was Cage said that he was very scared of me because he didn't want to be locked inside a cage. I then corrected him, and after that he was very excited to learn that I was "named after" the girl from Titanic, Kate Winslet.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Backseat Bitches
It's rare that we actually have to be somewhere, anywhere, especially at a specific time. But three nights ago, this was the case. We were meeting our friend Julia at our apartment to cook dinner for her last night in Mysore. We ran to More Megastore to pick up groceries to make a vegetable curry, some rice, a salad, dessert, and cocktails (Mysore Manglers--guava juice and Hercules brand rum; more on how ridiculously sketchy and difficult it is to buy alcohol later). After spending the seemingly obligatory fifteen minutes waiting in line behind people getting their things pricechecked over and over again, using coupons, and trying to bargain down the price of biscuits, onions, whatever, we found a rickshaw that would accept what we wanted to pay ("60 rupees? No, no, we only pay 40 from here to Gokulam, and that's twice as far! No, well, ok, we'll find someone else. Oh, you'll take us now? ok!"), we figured we were home free. There's a post office on our street that serves as a solid landmark for drivers. Lakshimpuram post office, in Lakshmipuram. Can't fail, right?
As our more clever readers may have guessed, no, not right. Actually, wrong.
We drive, and drive, and drive, and as a huge park or lawn, some mass of green that stretches for what seems like 2km, passes on our left, I lean over to Melina and say, "where the f*ck are we?" (trying to cut down on my cursing, really). She thinks we're headed in the right direction, but quickly changes her tune when we begin to experience a case of "bizarro neighborhood"--we see things that we have in our neighborhood, but they are different and bizarro. Nilgiri's, our local supermarket--but no, this is not our Nilgiri's. I lean over to the driver and attempt to confirm, "Lakshimpuram post office?" He nods and repeats what I've said.
But no, dude, we are NOT headed to Lakshmipuram. After a bit more driving, I then say, "Near Big Bazaar?" He repeats, "Big Bazaar," and drives a bit longer. During this time I am repeating the name of our neighborhood, and he seems to be repeating it back. He then attempts to drop us off somewhere completely random, a bus station on the corner, or something. I see a restaurant that yogi friends have talked about--Green Leaf. It dawns on me: we are in JAIlakshmipuram, a faraway neighborhood. not Lakshipuram.
This begins a fight. The only one we've had with a driver, and boy, were we pissed. For ONCE, we were ACTUALLY late to something. We pictured Julia sitting on our dark stoop with all her luggage, thinking we stood her up.
driver: "Jailakshipuram, Jailakshipuram!" (intonation says: "you said Jailakshipuram!"
us: "No, not JAIlakshipuram. LAKSHMIpuram!"
repeat this about 5 times.
driver (sighing, exasperated): "Madam, madam! 4 kilometers!" (intonation says: "What the hell, madam! You made me drive 4 kilometers out of my way!"
us: "yeah, 4 kilometers in the wrong direction! We told you lakshmipuram, and now we're late!"
we start yelling at him in english we know he doesn't understand, and I think at one point I even resort to the "talking loud as if someone that doesn't understand english will understand it better if you say it real loud" : "it's a NEIGHBORHOOD!"
we decide that we'll be much better off just getting another driver, as this one is pissed and we're pissed at him. I give him 20 rupees (we agreed on 30, but he took us waaaaaaay the fuck out of the way, though he did use some gas), and we kind of promptly catch another rickshaw going our way.
On the ride back to our hood, I turn to Melina and say, "Everyone always comes back from India so open-hearted and full of love, but we're just going to come back as huge bitches."
Melina says, "Yeah...but I think when we get back I'll have a bigger heart, for like, people. Maybe."
As our more clever readers may have guessed, no, not right. Actually, wrong.
We drive, and drive, and drive, and as a huge park or lawn, some mass of green that stretches for what seems like 2km, passes on our left, I lean over to Melina and say, "where the f*ck are we?" (trying to cut down on my cursing, really). She thinks we're headed in the right direction, but quickly changes her tune when we begin to experience a case of "bizarro neighborhood"--we see things that we have in our neighborhood, but they are different and bizarro. Nilgiri's, our local supermarket--but no, this is not our Nilgiri's. I lean over to the driver and attempt to confirm, "Lakshimpuram post office?" He nods and repeats what I've said.
But no, dude, we are NOT headed to Lakshmipuram. After a bit more driving, I then say, "Near Big Bazaar?" He repeats, "Big Bazaar," and drives a bit longer. During this time I am repeating the name of our neighborhood, and he seems to be repeating it back. He then attempts to drop us off somewhere completely random, a bus station on the corner, or something. I see a restaurant that yogi friends have talked about--Green Leaf. It dawns on me: we are in JAIlakshmipuram, a faraway neighborhood. not Lakshipuram.
This begins a fight. The only one we've had with a driver, and boy, were we pissed. For ONCE, we were ACTUALLY late to something. We pictured Julia sitting on our dark stoop with all her luggage, thinking we stood her up.
driver: "Jailakshipuram, Jailakshipuram!" (intonation says: "you said Jailakshipuram!"
us: "No, not JAIlakshipuram. LAKSHMIpuram!"
repeat this about 5 times.
driver (sighing, exasperated): "Madam, madam! 4 kilometers!" (intonation says: "What the hell, madam! You made me drive 4 kilometers out of my way!"
us: "yeah, 4 kilometers in the wrong direction! We told you lakshmipuram, and now we're late!"
we start yelling at him in english we know he doesn't understand, and I think at one point I even resort to the "talking loud as if someone that doesn't understand english will understand it better if you say it real loud" : "it's a NEIGHBORHOOD!"
we decide that we'll be much better off just getting another driver, as this one is pissed and we're pissed at him. I give him 20 rupees (we agreed on 30, but he took us waaaaaaay the fuck out of the way, though he did use some gas), and we kind of promptly catch another rickshaw going our way.
On the ride back to our hood, I turn to Melina and say, "Everyone always comes back from India so open-hearted and full of love, but we're just going to come back as huge bitches."
Melina says, "Yeah...but I think when we get back I'll have a bigger heart, for like, people. Maybe."
Monday, October 6, 2008
"It's ok...It's the good pain."
The philosophy behind Ashtanga yoga is one that has intrigued, replsed, inspired, and confused Melina and I at various times leading up to and during this part of our travels. Physical adjustments are INTENSE to say the least. There's talk of surrender--to the guru, to the pain, gravity, to yourself...and there's also talk of pushing, pushing, using force and strength and not giving up. So, you have to really never give up...but ultimately, you just have to give up.
Over the past week it has been really difficult for both of us to reconcile what's been ingrained in us through our prior dance and yoga training--a certain anatomical intelligence and awareness, a focus on correct alignment and injury prevention, and a very deep understanding of what is good, what is safe, what is better, what is enough. In ashtanga we've been pushed farther than we ever thought we could go. The teacher comes up behind you while you're in a forward bend, puts a towel on your back, and basically lays himself over you. inhale, lengthen...exhale, go down, more, more, more...inhale, lengthen...exhale, go down, oh god, it hurts...
Breath really does help, and a sort of discarding of the "that's too much" attitude. At the same time, we want to maintain our bodies in fairly good shape, because they're not just for yoga--we're not strictly yogis, dedicating our bodies to this specific practice in order to attain a higher closeness to god. Rather, we're dancers, we're bikers, we're movers in many different ways. Melina has an injured hamstrng attachment and I've got injured hip flexors, and we're trying to keep these injuries in mind while not assigning limitations to ourselves because of them. Today, Ajay, our guru, had me in badokonasana (the butterfly stretch, soles of feet together). He pushed my knees down to the ground and laid on my back, slowly pushing me down, down, down. My hips are really tight, and I've been going through a LOT emotionally lately, so these really intense openings are intense in more ways than one. This certainly isn't the first time I've cried in a yoga class, but...
Today, while he was practically sitting on my back, I let it go and cried, cried, cried. He seemed to think this was a step in the right direction, and I agree. As I cried, I let everything go, not just emotionally--probably went deeper into the pose than I ever have.
Our bodies hurt, we're achy, but we're strong, and learning, and I guess we see more to ashtanga than we thought we would. Also, (I'm pretty sure I speak for both of us), we're hungry ALL THE TIME. The physical exertion just leaves us wanting to CONSUME. We eat oatmeal in the morning, and then fruit and a peanut butter sandwich after class. Now it's about 2:30 and...yes, I've just confirmed, we are both starving.
We're still figuring out what we're individually going to take from this, and I certainly am not going to establish a daily ashtanga practice when I get back...but I think there's something to this "surrender" thing.
Over the past week it has been really difficult for both of us to reconcile what's been ingrained in us through our prior dance and yoga training--a certain anatomical intelligence and awareness, a focus on correct alignment and injury prevention, and a very deep understanding of what is good, what is safe, what is better, what is enough. In ashtanga we've been pushed farther than we ever thought we could go. The teacher comes up behind you while you're in a forward bend, puts a towel on your back, and basically lays himself over you. inhale, lengthen...exhale, go down, more, more, more...inhale, lengthen...exhale, go down, oh god, it hurts...
Breath really does help, and a sort of discarding of the "that's too much" attitude. At the same time, we want to maintain our bodies in fairly good shape, because they're not just for yoga--we're not strictly yogis, dedicating our bodies to this specific practice in order to attain a higher closeness to god. Rather, we're dancers, we're bikers, we're movers in many different ways. Melina has an injured hamstrng attachment and I've got injured hip flexors, and we're trying to keep these injuries in mind while not assigning limitations to ourselves because of them. Today, Ajay, our guru, had me in badokonasana (the butterfly stretch, soles of feet together). He pushed my knees down to the ground and laid on my back, slowly pushing me down, down, down. My hips are really tight, and I've been going through a LOT emotionally lately, so these really intense openings are intense in more ways than one. This certainly isn't the first time I've cried in a yoga class, but...
Today, while he was practically sitting on my back, I let it go and cried, cried, cried. He seemed to think this was a step in the right direction, and I agree. As I cried, I let everything go, not just emotionally--probably went deeper into the pose than I ever have.
Our bodies hurt, we're achy, but we're strong, and learning, and I guess we see more to ashtanga than we thought we would. Also, (I'm pretty sure I speak for both of us), we're hungry ALL THE TIME. The physical exertion just leaves us wanting to CONSUME. We eat oatmeal in the morning, and then fruit and a peanut butter sandwich after class. Now it's about 2:30 and...yes, I've just confirmed, we are both starving.
We're still figuring out what we're individually going to take from this, and I certainly am not going to establish a daily ashtanga practice when I get back...but I think there's something to this "surrender" thing.
Ahhh! Real Monsters!
Some phobias discovered and re-discovered and developed during this trip:
MG:
clowns--during a kathakali performance. side-effects: panic and tears
shaken water bottles--while carrying a large "water can" upstairs, side-effects: funny faces, may not drink it
cockroaches--ewwwwww
Big Bazaar-- see the previous post on this... crowds, noise, etc.
KP:
cockroaches--ewwwwww. ahhh!!!!
moths--while wearing a headlamp they were attracted to, side-effects: screaming, funny faces
raita--sometimes it looks too much like mayonnaise or another white condiment, side-effects: funny faces, varying "yuck"s
Big Bazaar-- see the previous post on this... crowds, noise, etc.
Ajay (our yoga teacher/guru):
geckos--they are too smooth, side-effects: shrieking, leaping into the air, cowering
cats--they are also too smooth (we think he means the way they move)
MG:
clowns--during a kathakali performance. side-effects: panic and tears
shaken water bottles--while carrying a large "water can" upstairs, side-effects: funny faces, may not drink it
cockroaches--ewwwwww
Big Bazaar-- see the previous post on this... crowds, noise, etc.
KP:
cockroaches--ewwwwww. ahhh!!!!
moths--while wearing a headlamp they were attracted to, side-effects: screaming, funny faces
raita--sometimes it looks too much like mayonnaise or another white condiment, side-effects: funny faces, varying "yuck"s
Big Bazaar-- see the previous post on this... crowds, noise, etc.
Ajay (our yoga teacher/guru):
geckos--they are too smooth, side-effects: shrieking, leaping into the air, cowering
cats--they are also too smooth (we think he means the way they move)
Cyber Cafe
Somehow, we ended up living in a neighborhood with few functional Internet Cafes. The closest one that allows us to upload is a rickshaw ride away in the hip yogi hood. Our local place, Net Dynasty (formerly Food Dynasty), had a connection that was worse than the earliest forms of dial-up. The only time we visited, I sat on a broken box. Although, to be fair, they are now undergoing a rennovation.
At the very least we want to check email and facebook and maybe blog a little but the computers seem to be thinking, "Ok. Gmail. I can do that. Wait a minute... another window? Facebook. Ok Wait you are trying to sign in at the same time? Which do you want? Gmail or Faceb... or the NYTimes? Shit. You know, I better just not respond right now. You're sending mixed messages. I'm not going to respond to that. I'll just wait and see. Phew. This is hard work."
Today we are trying the next closest place, which we discovered yesterday after a wrong turn. KP is waiting for a computer while the 2 kids next to me play first a cricket game, then Vice City. From what I can see, Vice City is not an appropriate game for 4 and 9 year olds......
At the very least we want to check email and facebook and maybe blog a little but the computers seem to be thinking, "Ok. Gmail. I can do that. Wait a minute... another window? Facebook. Ok Wait you are trying to sign in at the same time? Which do you want? Gmail or Faceb... or the NYTimes? Shit. You know, I better just not respond right now. You're sending mixed messages. I'm not going to respond to that. I'll just wait and see. Phew. This is hard work."
Today we are trying the next closest place, which we discovered yesterday after a wrong turn. KP is waiting for a computer while the 2 kids next to me play first a cricket game, then Vice City. From what I can see, Vice City is not an appropriate game for 4 and 9 year olds......
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Opening Prayer
English translation of the prayer we say at the beginning of each yoga practice at our shala:
The common soul shines like an emerald on the head of the snake
Which has one thousand types (heads) and is all pervading
With three circles unlimited
King of Snakes -- I pay my respects to you
Manifest in human form
Bearing the ornaments of conch and wool
Having one thousand snow-white heads
I surrender to you Patanjali
I pay respects to the Guru
I pay respects to the Divine Adepts
The common soul shines like an emerald on the head of the snake
Which has one thousand types (heads) and is all pervading
With three circles unlimited
King of Snakes -- I pay my respects to you
Manifest in human form
Bearing the ornaments of conch and wool
Having one thousand snow-white heads
I surrender to you Patanjali
I pay respects to the Guru
I pay respects to the Divine Adepts
lighthouse beach, kovalam
lighthouse beach, kovalam, kerala
happy yogi melina
happy yogi kp
we left sivananda and found bliss in the ocean
we knew we had made the right decision
chamundi hill
yesterday, we climed the 1,000+ steps to the top of Chamundi Hill. We thought we wouldn't make it, but it was much easier than we expected. We passed people that were descending, but it seemed no one else wanted to make the trek up. At the top, we had our fortunes told by a parrot astrologer. Melina will have one boy and one girl, I will have two boys and one girl, I will be famous, and any decisions that Melina makes on the 15th and 16th of this month will be SUCCESS! Then, we descended, concentrating on alignment and tracking. Yeah yoganerds.
Friday, October 3, 2008
some pune snapshots
never been so happy about a veggie burger and salad
produce market
year-round santa
butcher shop river of blood
participating in the ganesha festival
this morning
We missed/skipped yoga this morning because our lovely and very interesting next door neighbor, carol, got the live audio of the VP debate on NPR. we started listening and couldn't tear ourselves away. Doing yoga at that time seemed utterly trivial. Much of the debate was spent with heads in hands. It made us anxious to come back and just be in the states when this all goes down. Definitely a memory we'll keep always. Then, we had handfuls of meusli, which were less memorable.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Two Lists and the Story of Grape Juice Corner
first, a couple of lists.
THINGS WE ARE GLAD WE HAVE:
our sunny roof for tea in the mornings, drying clothes in the afternoons, and more tea in the evenings
our speakers (which we bought from a panasonic store for about $15, yet another gut-busting story)
our new indian tunics/scarves/general garb from the wonderful FabIndia
Big Bazaar (curse them forever, they have EVERYTHING we need!)
Ashtanga
the post-class chai, fruit, and general super-happy buzz
the feeling of authority that comes with successfully dealing with autorickshaw drivers (waving them past, bargaining...)
yoga, yoga, yoga, sweat, breath, sun, each other, the whole deal
seeing animals (except sick dogs which is always heartbreaking, and cockroaches which are not animals and are revolting ever-living critter-creatures): elephants at mysore palace, monkeys with their babies latched onto their bellies waiting to cross the street, cows cows cows COWS EVERYWHERE
THINGS WE WISH WE HAD:
a fridge (cereal with straight-up room temperature milk is so much more unsatisfying than one might expect)
grainy bread (it's all wonder-white)
injury-free bodies (ashtanga doesn't help, but we push ourselves every day anyway)
expert scarf technique (think nigel tufnel trying to make sense of his craft services cold cuts in spinal tap)
good cheese (we have a wine-fruit-cheese-bread picnic planned for when we get back)
THE STORY OF GRAPE JUICE CORNER
There is a shop a few blocks away from our apartment. Grape Juice Corner. This is the hot spot for all the manly men in our 'hood. The first time we went, we were unable and unwilling to penetrate the thick wall of indian men chillin' with their grape juice. We were in yoga garb (tight) and were being stared at from hundreds of feet away, so decided to try again another time, returning to our humble abode wondering aloud, "what's the deal with grape juice corner right now?"
Apparently, grape juice corner is always like that and grape juice is SERIOUS STUFF AND VERY MANLY SO DON'T MESS WITH THE GRAPE JUICE MEN!
These men enjoy their juice, and there is nary a female to be found. We tried the stuff, and it's straight up from concentrate. Every time we pass by we are ogled, which isn't anything new, but there's something about the fact that it's a grape juice shop that just cracks us up every damn time. We're not sure what makes Grape Juice Corner such a hotbed of testosteroney interaction, but it is what it is. "Hey man, meet me at grape juice corner. Yeah, we're gonna get us some JUICE."
reasons it may be more "manly" than other types of juice:
*dark
*resembles wine
*....dark?
THINGS WE ARE GLAD WE HAVE:
our sunny roof for tea in the mornings, drying clothes in the afternoons, and more tea in the evenings
our speakers (which we bought from a panasonic store for about $15, yet another gut-busting story)
our new indian tunics/scarves/general garb from the wonderful FabIndia
Big Bazaar (curse them forever, they have EVERYTHING we need!)
Ashtanga
the post-class chai, fruit, and general super-happy buzz
the feeling of authority that comes with successfully dealing with autorickshaw drivers (waving them past, bargaining...)
yoga, yoga, yoga, sweat, breath, sun, each other, the whole deal
seeing animals (except sick dogs which is always heartbreaking, and cockroaches which are not animals and are revolting ever-living critter-creatures): elephants at mysore palace, monkeys with their babies latched onto their bellies waiting to cross the street, cows cows cows COWS EVERYWHERE
THINGS WE WISH WE HAD:
a fridge (cereal with straight-up room temperature milk is so much more unsatisfying than one might expect)
grainy bread (it's all wonder-white)
injury-free bodies (ashtanga doesn't help, but we push ourselves every day anyway)
expert scarf technique (think nigel tufnel trying to make sense of his craft services cold cuts in spinal tap)
good cheese (we have a wine-fruit-cheese-bread picnic planned for when we get back)
THE STORY OF GRAPE JUICE CORNER
There is a shop a few blocks away from our apartment. Grape Juice Corner. This is the hot spot for all the manly men in our 'hood. The first time we went, we were unable and unwilling to penetrate the thick wall of indian men chillin' with their grape juice. We were in yoga garb (tight) and were being stared at from hundreds of feet away, so decided to try again another time, returning to our humble abode wondering aloud, "what's the deal with grape juice corner right now?"
Apparently, grape juice corner is always like that and grape juice is SERIOUS STUFF AND VERY MANLY SO DON'T MESS WITH THE GRAPE JUICE MEN!
These men enjoy their juice, and there is nary a female to be found. We tried the stuff, and it's straight up from concentrate. Every time we pass by we are ogled, which isn't anything new, but there's something about the fact that it's a grape juice shop that just cracks us up every damn time. We're not sure what makes Grape Juice Corner such a hotbed of testosteroney interaction, but it is what it is. "Hey man, meet me at grape juice corner. Yeah, we're gonna get us some JUICE."
reasons it may be more "manly" than other types of juice:
*dark
*resembles wine
*....dark?
wildlife reactions: a photo series (#1)
see those monkeys behind me? it was pretty scary getting that close to them!! they're strong, large, and have very, very human faces and hands.
but the scariest part was the monkey that was leaping down from the top of a cave and onto melina's head as she took this photo.
note to readers: melina was not harmed during the capturing of this photograph.
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