Arriving at the Ashram

My arrival at the ashram wasn't what I'd quite hoped for - I had hoped to float through the front gates on a cloud of spirituality and half expected the receptionist to comment on my calm and serine disposition. Sadly a rather cheeky little rickshaw driver put paid to that idea. Rather than pulling up outside the front gates in a bubble of tranquility I actually arrived arguing with the rickshaw driver as he tried to double the previous agreed fare. Although I stuck firmly to the agreed price it meant the heated haggle left me red faced and irritated...and they say spirituality is hard - bet Gandhi didn't have this problem...but I suppose he would have walked anyway...

Now, I'd never been to an ashram until this very moment in time. I didn't have an expectation as such but one of the first things I noticed was the way everyone who works at the ashram greets you - Om Namay Shivaya which is the mantra of Lord Siva (don't you know). 'Om' (the first universal sound) on its own was also massively overused as was Om Namay Shivaya : 'OM can you pass me the pen, OM please be quiet, OM the loos are over there...' or to soften a request which on its own would definitely come across as terse 'Om Namay Shivaya can you move out of the way, Om Namay Shivaya only take one piece of fruit so there's enough for everyone, Om Namay Shivaya can everyone listen to my instructions carefully in the class'...you get the picture.

That said I nearly yelped with glee when I walked past a fellow ashramite as he put his hands in prayer position and said 'OM'. THEN he put his right had up to his heart, cupped his hand and offered it to me (a sign of love/peace)....I nearly wet myself with excitement as this clearly meant I looked like I belonged (arrival outfit was carefully thought out). Immediately wished I had 'fam-cam or mate-cam' so my friends/family could see some of the sights I was witnessing - sheer and utter quality!

Next stop was the dormitory - I was sharing with 32 other women. The dorm was divided up into four sections which slept eight, which was subdivided (by a shoulder high wall) into a cell which slept two. Naturally I a bit dubious about the whole dorm situ. I like my personal space so thought of sharing not only my space but showers, loos etc was pretty unappealing. Still I assured myself it was all part of the experience and besides I didn't have a choice - apart from leaving!

I needn't have worried - in fact I couldn't have asked for a better 'cell mate' and I knew immediately we were going to get on when she introduced herself to me, then hesitated and confessed it wasn't actually her real name. She'd recently decided to change it, the ashram was her new names first outing - and was trying her new name on for size so to speak (I agreed that I wouldn't mention her name on my blog ;-0). I asked if it felt a bit strange - my only point of reference to this conversation was the time I changed my name to Madonna but it only lasted for a morning due to public humiliation at school. She admitted the unease caused her to bottle out of introducing herself using her new name, to some people. Only she couldn't remember which name she'd used to which person and was acutely aware that some people were calling her by her new name, some by her old and she wasn't always responding to them so suspected they might think she had a hearing problem. Brilliant!

But that's not all - having two names was just the tip of the ice berg - after a while the conversation naturally turned to yoga and the usual 'how long have you been practicing for, what other types of yoga have you done' that sort of thing. Anyway, there I was thinking 'oh this is all very nice' you know an easy chat about the course blah blah when flippin 'two names' drops it into the conversation that she orgasms when she does leg lifts! Some people have all the luck.

Concerns about Ashram life.....

The build up to my arrival at the Sivananda Ashram started long before I actually arrived at the front gates. It actually started before I even arrived in India! A combination of minor frets and waves of excitement came upon me whenever I tried to think of what my experience would be throughout the month I was there.

The thought of being back in the class room didn't really concern me. Nor did waking up at 5am. Silence during meal times - not a problem. The yoga, studying philosophy, studying full stop, staying in a dorm of 20 women, potentially cleaning loos (karma yoga), not being able to do exactly what I wanted, when I wanted AND wearing a uniform (bring it on). Nope. None of that worried me. I had just two concerns before I actually arrived at the ashram; the thickness of the mattress I'd be sleeping on and bed bugs.

Now I had every reason to be concerned - after stint on a four day silent meditation retreat and lying on effectively hard plastic bed I had good reason to be worried about the mattress situation ie there not being one. But I wasn't about to let a small issue like a mattress ruin my beauty sleep. Having discussed the 'mattress-gate' situation with various friends I decided to run a potential solution past my most hippy-ish friend in the UK, Sophie.

'I know' I announced as we munched on raw tofu and brown rice at Mildreds our fav veggie restaurant,  'I'll bring my own.' A perfectly reasonable idea I thought especially seeing as Blacks have portable, roll up thingys. She nearly spat her tofu and brown rice out of her mouth in utter horror. 'You cannot arrive at the ashram with a mattress, it's social suicide.' 'Bollocks' I said defiantly 'if it's a toss up between a good nights sleep or giving up the opportunity to be a social butterfly then so be it - anyway I like a challenge. A mattress it is.' Sophie was horrified. So much so that it drove her to send me an email with her concerns and a few concerned 'riiiights' when I told her I was sticking to my plan in various phone conversations following.

So I was all set on the mattress idea until I realised the damn thing would take up half of my backpack. I had to be strong. I had to detach from material things. I had a choice: Marc Jacobs Daisy Perfume (my signature scent ;-)),bottles of Lancaster sun cream and all manor of other beauty must-haves or the lightweight mattress. So I detached. I ditched the mattress idea and reasoned avoiding skin cancer was far more important than a good nights sleep.

I'll be honest though, every time I applied sun cream or dabbed Marky on my wrists I did shudder at the thought of sleeping on a bed of steel for a month. In fact it's all I talked about when I arrived in Varkala, a month prior to my 'time' in the ashram or 'Shram' as I like to call it. cue LOL. In fact I think I bored my Varkala friends Nina, Joanne, Deirdre, Liz, Catherine and Meadhbh about my obsession. I deliberated over buying a mattress before I arrived at the shram or completely embracing detachment by leaving it to chance and arriving bare as it were. So there I was thinking it one way it was good I had only one thing to really fret about in a sort of reassuring way. That was until I met Leonard. He'd just spent two weeks at the shram on a detox course and horror of horrors...he had bed bug bites. Not just one or two. Hundreds of bites all over the backs of his legs. I recoiled in utter horror as he showed me the evidence AND also talked of seeing others with similar bites.

And so began my new obsession - how to avoid the bed bugs.....

I asked everyone I could - I even emailed the ashram to say 'I hear you have beg bugs, please can you ensure I don't get a bed with bugs in it'. I'm serious. I did that. They didn't respond. I was besides my self with worry. Until I met Cat.

I have Deidre, Nina and Liz to thank for introducing me to Cat and alleviating my worries about the bed bug-gate and also putting a spring in my step about the shram in general. The girls brought me a massage with Cat (Bengali masseuse - one of two in the world don't you know!) as a thank-you for the Reiki treatments I'd given them. After expressing my concerns to Cat, who had been to the shram, she  assured me a bottle of Lavender Oil on the mattress would see off any bugs. And then she told me some even better news....life at the shram isn't as pure as is they would lead you to believe. Nope. You see people actually cop off left, right and centre -. there's even a place near the lake opposite the shram where lovers go for some privacy. What fantastic news. There I was thinking I was about to live the life of a nun for four weeks when actually it was a potential hunting ground. Things were looking up. With this new information I repacked my rucksack accordingly and began smiling at the thought of bagging a hot man AND becoming a yoga teacher at the same time!

Visiting an Indian Family part 2

It wasn't until I arrived at Vinod's house that it dawned on me I was actually going to stay the night and what the experience might entail. I'd forgotten all the little things which make for a full and exhausting experience when visiting an Indian family home. Like being talked about in another language, being watched as you get up and walk somewhere, being asked where you're going even when you're going to the loo....basically any movement you make, anything you say, any expression you give is noted and commented on. Usually through laughter.

Now I'm used to people laughing at me - usually for the wrong reasons. In fact I think I probably humiliate myself on a daily basis so I've learnt to live with people rolling their eyes, chuckling or roaring (okay, so maybe that's a slight exaggeration) with laughter at something I've either said or done. Or so I thought....

As soon as I arrived I knew I was in for a strict scrutiny from his parents and brother. Generally Indians don't hold back - especially about how you look. If they think you're hair looks a mess, clothes are wrong, you've put on or lost weight, skin looks good - whatever their opinion rest assured you'll be the first to know. I've drawn breath in horror at some of the 'frank' comments I've over heard or worse still, been directed at me. Thankfully though the verdict was positive; I'd lost weight, I was in danger of being too thin if I lost more (culturally there's also a tendency to exaggerate), my hair looked 'better, much better' longer and I looked younger. Phew!

After been given the okay by the family - and I must admit I was definitely walking a little taller afterwards - evidently I was deemed suitable for public display and was taken immediately to see the rest of the family. That's right, grandparents, cousins, uncles, aunts, cousin brothers, sister cousins (I'm still confused at to what exactly the difference is between a cousin and a sister cousin) were all ready and waiting for my arrival.

Before I knew it I was sitting center stage on a plastic chair at the grandparents home. I was literally sitting in the middle of the room as his grandmother, grandfather, uncle, uncle's wife, cousins and so on looked at me (chuckling) and talking Malayalam (mother language for Kerala) to each other.

It was as this point that I truly experienced what it was really like to be laughed at - I decided to break up the hilarity by speaking to them....in Malayalam of course. And no sooner as I'd uttered the words 'namaste' they were virtually doubled up with laughter. Undeterred I continued with my pigeon Malayalam but they laughed all the more.

So there I was sitting pretty in my new outfit and everything trying to re balance their opinion of me after last time (where I got drunk) and they just stood there laughing at me. And there was me thinking I'd made progress. Seriously, you'd have thought they were watching a stand up comedian. And while I do like to tell myself I have a good sense of humour even I know 'how are you' isn't a side splitter...

Feeling slightly deflated I headed back to Vinod's for dinner. The food as always was fabulous but I noticed his mum ate after we (me, Vinod, his father and brother) did - I wondered how well that would go down in my family ie not very.

So feeling pretty thankful I didn't have to rely on my fathers generosity when it came to his leftovers to survive (sorry Dad!) I started to think about what we'd do for the rest of evening. By this stage I was feeling pretty tired. Not through lack of sleep but the constant attention and lack of personal space. I mean don't get me wrong I was having a good time but a different kind of good time.

Everything I said, every move I made was noted. We were all sitting in one room, right on top of each other; me and Vinod sitting at one end of the bed, his brother at the other, his parents sitting on chairs besides us. No space at all. Then when I wanted to get up to go to the loo instantly there's a 'where are you going?'. I was feeling really self conscious cause frankly I like to take a waz quietly, without any fuss. It's something I like to do ON MY OWN. But no that wasn't the case. I was in India after all and one thing I've learnt is to just go with whatever is happening. Don't try to control the situation.

So there I was trying not to be noticed in a room full of people. Just as I was about to arrive at the back door to go to the loo, I realised it was barricaded up. His dad took barricade (okay so two planks of wood) down and I, still embarrassed cause the entire family knew nature was calling, rushed out to the loo. As I opened the loo door I was thinking 'ahhh at last a moments peace'....when there standing right in front of me were two goats starring back at me. They were the family goats and had to be kept indoors during the evening. So there I was, taking a waz, while two goats looked on...I couldn't even take a piss without being watched!!

Bemused as the hilarity of it all and relieved at the fact I didn't suffer from stage fright when it really mattered - I went back in to the sitting room and squeezed in between Vinod and his brother and settled down to watch a Bollywood film. Aha, now this I can relate to - sitting in front of the telly. Bliss.

It was during the film that I started to wonder where I was going to sleep - I asked Vinod - he laughed 'in here'....so two hours later there I was getting ready for bed. I didn't even bother with changing - nor did anyone else - the rigmarole of it all was too much. Then it occurred to me that there was only one bed - again I asked myself and Vinod: 'where was I going to get my beauty sleep'. Well, the only bed was assigned to me. I couldn't believe it - no matter how much I protested his parents were insistent. The only bed in the house had my name on it. So while his mum slept on the floor (Vinod tried to consol me with the fact she used to sleep on sand in their old 'house' 'so the concrete floor with a matt was much better'...no, I couldn't quite grasp the concept either...) I slept in the same room on the bed. Vinod, his father and brother slept on the floor in the hall way. Can you believe it - his parents gave up their own bed for me!

The following morning I opened my eyes to his mum and dad both staring at me - they had been watching me sleep....ironically I only hoped my audience wasn't due to the fact I'd been sleep talking...

Visiting an Indian Family Part 1

I met Vinod while I was in Varkala last year - he was working in Cliff Manor where I was stayed for a few weeks. He's like a little brother and he kindly invited me to met his family last year - fyi it's a huge compliment to be invited to an Indian family home don't you know....

At the time I did my bit to improve relations between Britain and India by getting pissed on coconut toddy (deadly stuff) with his dad, smoking untold amounts of fags (Keralan woman never smoke so it was right up there in the inappropriate behaviour category), while trying to contain my laughter as his father did a very good mock-moshing impression to the Prodigy's 'smack my bitch up' which blasted from the stereo. I then passed out on the bed. Classy.

My days of generally humiliating myself (while under the influence at least) are thankfully well and truly over. So when Vinod invited me to stay overnight at his house, I was determined to make a more respectable impression second time round. Naturally this first involved buying a new outfit so if I did stumble on the unfamiliar path of respectability, I would at least look semi decent in doing so.

First stop to Suka's shop to purchase the necessities. Mindful of my historic tendency to fully embrace the traveler look I gave her a strict brief i.e. nothing florescent, or featuring any Hindu god, or slogan led or too ethnic looking and absolutely no Ali Babba trousers. She looked puzzled but I think she could sense the severity in my tone of voice and stuck firmly to brief. I settled on a beautiful silk skirt, tee and sandals. Simple but effective - I hoped. And more importantly I didn't look like I'd just left a rave on Anjuna beach.

Vinod lives in a fishing village on the out skirts of Alleppey. His father and brother are both fishermen and life is tough for the family. They have very little money and I don't mean in the sense of not being able to afford to go on holiday, buy a new car, go clothes shopping or debate on whether to cut back on the number of take away's they order each week. I mean they properly struggle. Their life style is beyond basic by anyone's standards and I'll be honest I really didn't anticipate the experience I would have. It was a huge reality check for me and at the same time it was really touching, rewarding and heartfelt. An unexpected combination.

The family home is built with breeze blocks and the roof is made of corrugated iron. There are two rooms - a kitchen which is about 8ft by 4 ft and has a tiny two ringed gas stove and a sink. The bedroom/sitting room is roughly the same size with a small double bed and the large TV is the focal point of the room. The small hallway, which separates the two main rooms, is adorned with pictures and mini statues of Jesus. In fact it's like a shrine to Catholicism with the bible laid open on a make shift altar. Even the light switch is surrounded by an image of the Pope. 

Naturally I have to comment about the loo situ. You have to walk through the kitchen so the door itself is outside - it's Western style and it's spotless but it doesn't flush so you have to pour a few buckets of water to move anything down the system. You can wash in there too but there isn't a shower as such so it's totally traditionally ie pouring water over yourself from a bucket.

I knew all of this before I arrived so going back wasn't a surprise in terms of the layout, their lifestyle and so on. What I hadn't bargained for was just how much I was going to get a real taste of Indian family life. I'd heard on many occasions how you're never alone in India, rolled my eyes when I was queuing for a train ticket and had zero personal space as I was pushed up against the person in front of me. I never truly understood the meaning of never being alone in India. Nor did I have an understanding of how the tiniest cultural difference which didn't seem like much on paper but was monumental when I experienced it for myself.

I have more baggage than I thought....

A realisation is a funny thing - it can be satisfying, thought provoking or sometimes really irritating. I've had a few realisations about myself since I have' been in India and this one I'm not particularly pleased about.

I decided to take my Reiki Masters course while I was in Varkala - yes, I've been studying. It may come as a shock but it's true - I am not just sunning myself on the beach or chatting with friends - although I must admit that does take up a significant amount of my time. No, I've been learning a new skill, adding another string to my bow, stretching my mind, which is all rather well and good except I didn't bank on uncovering yet another realisation about myself.

You see I was under the impression that I'd learnt enough last time I went away. Indeed it would even appear my 'discovery journey' continued when I returned to the UK.  It's pretty tiring all this 'looking inwards' especially when what you see isn't quite what you'd been telling yourself.

I'll give you an example: I can't drink, it leads to a a whole host of nonsense (mainly in my head) which I've decided I can no longer deal with. That's one realisation. Another is that no matter how many pairs I try on Gold Ray Band Aviator sun glasses do not suit me. I'm gutted. Mainly cause this realisation shocked me so much I had to purchase a pair of Oliver Peoples sunglasses at triple my original budget. Realisations can be expensive lessons. My realisation about the baggage in my life causes me extra expense too.

Take my rucksack for example. No matter how hard I try I just can't seem to pack the thing correctly without it feeling like I have a dead person on my back. I even left what looked like half a ton of clothes, toiletries and books at my friend Joanne's house when I left Varkala for Patnem. Still didn't make a difference - on arrival in Goa I waddled off the train and rather than take a bus the weight of my rucksack meant I had to take a taxi. When I arrived in Patnem, the sun beating down on my weary forehead and the weight of what now seemed like several dead people on my back, I had no choice but check in to a 'luxury' hut rather than walk up and down the beach searching for a cheaper option.

It appears the excess baggage in my life doesn't just apply to my rucksack. No. You see part of my Reiki is essentially about energy. Universal Life Energy. The energy is used for healing all sorts of mental, physical, emotional and spiritual disabilities. Emotions are energy too so if you have an unprocessed emotion which many of us do, the energy stays in your body.The location of the toxic energy is determined by the type of emotion. So grief and anger can result in problems with the shoulders, resentment and bitterness affects the lungs, judgement and criticism affects the teeth and gums and the list goes on.

All rather fascinating indeed but naturally when one is learning you look to yourself to determine what aliments you have which may need attention. My hips have always been stiff. They are the bain of my yoga practice - stiff hips. I have to work on them on a daily basis and it's pretty painful. So you can imagine my horror when I discovered the reason for my stiffness. My ex boyfriends.

Yep, it would appear that you hold your past relationships in your hip area. It explains a lot. Previous boyfriends have mostly been undesirables now it appears I have all of them in my hips. I've been spending the last week trying to 'remove' Gary, Kevin, Warren, Nick and those are just the relationships. God only knows how many other flings/dalliances/mistakes I have tucked up in there.

So you see I have more baggage than I originally thought.

What I love about Bangers

So it's official - I'm loving Thailand Like I said before I've never really been that fussed about the country. But then I'm thinking sometimes you need to move on from somewhere/something/someone to fully apprecaite them. Even the indosincracies you're not so keen on. This I think is the case with my 'relationship' with Thailand.

The last time I visited Thailand, indeed Bangers, was six months ago and since then I've travelled around Tibet, Nepal, India, Balia and been to KL and Singers. I now fully appreciate all that Bangers has to offer. Where I am right now I love the fact I can get a taste of everything that I adore about the west.

I can wander into Boots and pore over the wide selection of tolitories, spicy tuna and glass noodle salads are everywhere, I can walk around annoymously (unlike India)and above all I can fully induldge in my obssesion - beautiful magazines - I've been known to blow two day's budget on Grazia, Glamour, Vogue and Elle. Yep, since I've been in Bangers, deciding on whether to accept a job offer in Bahrain, I've been enjoying the lighter side of Bangkok.

That is spending my time sunnying myself by the roof top pool side of Rambuttri Village Inn where I'm currently residing, catching up on the lastest gossip at Mr Yims over my staple breakfast of fruit, home made yogart and honey, eating gorgeous organic lunch delights at Ethos, wandering around Boots looking at makeup, sauntering around the clothes stalls on the Koah San Road, staring wildly at the pervs (now taken to trying to maintain eye contact which the guys don't like), updating my blog which I virtually abandoned during my month of spiritual awakening (!) in Bali at Internet Cafe called 'Hot Spot' where I've virtually set-up residence and watching the latest movies at Home Guest House each evening. Oh and reading magazines.....tons of them. I'm am LURVING Bangkok.

Back to Bangers and to the categories

This is my fourth time in Bangers and I finally get it. Now appreciate the city for what it is and I'm loving it. Before I couldn't stand the place. Well, that's a bit harsh but I just couldn't be arsed with the hassle. The endless nagging from tuk tuk drivers who tell you they'll show you the sights for 20 Bhat, drag you into various shopping emoriums and if you don't buy anything, leave you stranded at a tourist landmark and tell the other tuk tuk drivers not to take you anywhere. Please note when in Bangers never, ever take a tuk tuk. Taxis (ensure they put their meter on) cost the same, if not cheaper and don't dick you about. However it's been six months since my last visit of Bangers and it's only now that I fully appreciate all that sin city has to offer.

Admittedly Bangers is the mecca for all sexual deviants. And I mean deviants in the strongest term. Walking along the Khao San Road you see social leapers all here to act out their, no doubt, highly illegal sexual fantasies. You can spot them a mile off. They just don't look right; usually sporting long finger nails..... However perverts aside, the atmosphere in Bangers is electric and I've never really noticed it during my previous visits - I was too busy being disgusted with 60 year old men walking down the street feeling up 15 year old Thail girls.

The shopping is great too - I'm loving my Diesel jeans, the food (I'm currently mainling spicy tuna glass noodle salad like it's going out of fashion) and there are some great sights. Again, I'm refering to the vast number of Wats and meditation on offer - for those of you who have been reading my blog for a while will know I love a Wat, I love a Monk and I love to meditate.

Talking of Monks I was 'had' by a Monk the other day. No! Not in that way - my mind drifts back to when I was traumatised during a monk chat at at Wat in Chiang Mai when the Monk I was chatting to asked me out on a date. No, this was a FAKE monk. Only Bangers can offer faux monks who ask for money. I knew he was a faker by his shoes but handed him some money anyway. And looked him straight in the eye as I did so - cheeky git looked right back too!

Anyway, Bangers gave me the chance to do two things which I love: scouring the shops and updating my Categories List. More on shopping later - I want to talk about my pride and joy: The Categories List.

This has been in existence since I arrived in Thailand last year. It's four defined categories which outline the types of men you see with Thai ladies. It has been checked with various travellers around the globe - men and women, young and old. I've refined it many times and have now had the opportunity to fine tune it again. I think you'll agree, it's a master piece. I've now introduced a new element - primary and secondary options as sometimes one category just isn't enough ie divorcee/sexual deviant, divorcee/looking for love, Loner (read: can't pull in his own country)/sexual deviant. You get the picture.

So here they are again - some of you will remember the Categories List from last year - fine tuned for your enjoyment:

Category 1: the divorcee:

A personal favorite of mine in terms of value - they get really uncomfortable if you stare at them which of course I love to do...if nothing else I'm puzzled as to why they think combing over two strands of hair hides their bald head.

This species is easily identifyable, usually with dyed auburn coloured hair to hide the grey hair when introduced to the woman's village family. 8 out of 10 sport a comb over 'hair style' which usual amounts to two or three strands of hair, geled and combed over the skull. Hides a multitude of sins don't you know!!

Normally dressed from head to toe in one colour (either light blue of beige), usually cotton short sleeved shirt and trousers with alarming footwear. Being a shoe lover, the footwear bothers me the most. It can range from black or brown leather slip-ons or sandals....with matching socks.

The divorcee is tired of women from his country and/or 20 years younger than him. He thinks women within this age range expect to much, they are too opinionated. Frankly too much like hard work. He's after someone who's attractive, who will look after him, won't question his tactics and sexula prowness (assuming he has any) in bed and generally will agree with what he says...this is mainly due to the language barrier as she can't really understand what he's saying or if she does, she doesn't have the vocab to reply!

The bonus for the South East Western woman is that he offers a nice lifestyle and she doesn't have to engage in too much conversation. A simple nod or yes will suffice.

Category 2: In love:

Young or old it can happen to anyone if you're lucky. You can spot it a mile off and it's lovely to see.

Category 3: The Loner:

This guy rarely pulls women in his home town. He needs to go abroad and pay for it to get a look in with a pretty girl. He's in awe of his mates who get to go home with attractive women so naturally enjoys the kudos of 'pulling' a good looking girl abroad.

The girl usually look a bit pained or bored as they listen to him waffle on about himself. The Loaner usually wears a logo tee with light faded jeans and trainer. He tends to walk the streets hand in hand with said woman with a massive grin on his face. Fair enough!

Category 4: The Sexual Deviant:

Basically a bit of sex pest. No age or looks category here - men who fall into this category are out to satisfy as many of the sexual perverse fantasies as possible. Have been known to get quite violent. Tend to treat the woman with contempt or on the flip side are just thankful someone has finally allowed them to act out their greatest and potentially sickest fantasy.