The Unlikely Yogi

 Our driver, Annan, collected us at the Holy River Hotel at 9 am. We were relieved when we saw that his car was fairly new, undented and had seat belts. We were steeling ourselves for the 8-hour drive from Rishikesh to Delhi which had provided endless thrills on the trip north 3 weeks ago. Annan spoke good English so we peppered him with questions about Hindu gods, the ongoing sugar cane harvest, wedding season, what happens when sacred cows die, and other important issues. We do know that if a driver hits and kills a cow he goes to jail. In the end, the drive was only 6.5 hours before we pulled up to the Ibis Hotel in Delhi. We reached the outskirts of the city an hour before, where all commercial vehicles, including our taxi, paid a city-entry fee to what looked like a crossing guard. We drove through a beautiful treed section that housed the Indian PM’s residence and all the embassies. Just after that, we passed through the real people’s section which included cozy shacks unde

While our last yoga teacher urged us to “do our best”, the teacher today commanded “Be there!” She also told me to “lose your body” as she squished me floorward in an extreme child’s pose. (I’d always kind of liked child’s pose before that). I refrained from telling her that I’d like to lose some of my body, if that were possible. We’ve been in Rishikesh long enough now that we’re starting to recognize some shop keepers, hotel staff, waiters and some of the cows and street dogs - similar to knowing all the street people on Princess St. There’s the cow with a broken horn who waits for his daily hamburger bun at a sari shop, the smiling barber, knitter, and stall keeper (not sure what he sells but he always greets us with a “Hari Om!”. I hope that’s not Hindi for “Get the hell out of here, you pale-faced, Lycra-clad Westerners”). One of our highlights has been a cooking class with Masala Cooking. Amit has been a banker, but now owns a spice shop here, plus the cooking school and a s

The Dewa Retreat offers a free yoga class every day at 7 am and I’ve been a faithful attendee since we arrived. I’m not sure what kind of yoga our Adidas-clad teacher offers, but it includes several joint-straining postures that he commands us to hold for what seems like hours. “Stay!”  He’s not shy about physically manipulating the participants into pretzel shapes, but when he passes near me he usually barks, “Do your best”. I’m not sure whether I should be relieved or insulted.  The same goes for the ear-cleaning guy who always seems to pick me out in the street for his spiel. Do I look like I have dirty ears? What is in that little box he carries around? He reminds me of those old cigarette girls at Vegas casinos. OK, another blast from the past...anyone over 60 should recall Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and the Transcendental Meditation movement that captivated the Beatles, plus a whole ashram full of other celebrities, including Perre Trudeau. Debbie and I toured his compound yesterda

Phool Chatti was our second ashram experience. Set on the banks of the Ganges (Ma Ganga), it provided a stopping point for pilgrims for over 100 years, and now serves as a basic training ground for aspiring and unlikely yogis - yoga boot camp.  Lalita-Ji runs the place with passionate devotion and   a little humor thrown in now and then. The day starts with a gong at 5:30. Meditation is at 6, then chanting, nose cleansing (really!), breathing, yoga for an hour and a half and finally breakfast at 9. Believe me, after all that, you don’t turn your nose up at anything they feed you, although the meals were actually pretty filling and tasty. I would have, however, swapped anything in my backpack for an egg. There were probably 50 of us staying at the ashram last week, and although we were “in silence “ from 9 pm to 10 am, we quickly gravitated toward some people and avoided others. Two Spanish women who sported High Altitude Hikers tee shirts sounded like they would have been more app

We’ve landed in Rishikesh, home of yoga, Hindu seers and holy men. They also seem to have more stray dogs, cows and monkeys than any place we’ve been. There are 2 bridges here that cross the Ganges - picture the 401 at rush hour, but instead of cars and trucks, Indian families, dread-locked young travelers, cows, motorbikes, and monkeys perched ready to scoop any available food. Oh yeah, and a number of middle-aged women dodging selfie sticks, cow horns and rear view mirrors. This afternoon we head back to the AuroValley ashram where we started; the majority of the group leaves Monday for home while Deb and I return to Rishikesh (Cow-ville) for 9 days. We’ll have a pool at our hotel so compared to ashram life, we’ll be livin’ large.

Every morning it’s 6 am meditation with BrahmDev, the Swami who heads up the AuroValley ashram where we’re staying. This morning, about 10 minutes in, we heard a loud noise and then an even louder eruption of barking dogs. “Was that an elephant!?!” Since the Swami left to check things out, we took our cue and followed. From the roof of our residence we saw a big guy with enormous tusks stroll through the field below, give himself a dust bath and meander toward some nearby houses. The field is also home to a haram of deer that apparently belong to another big guy with antlers. There are also wild boars running around and squawking parrots everywhere. Tomorrow we go to another ashram for a week. The one we’re in now is supposed to be the ‘luxury’ version and tomorrow we’re at the ‘basic’. This may be my last post for awhile.