Spread the Love and Germs
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 appropriately housed at a TB sanatorium. Wracking (uncovered) coughs and constant sneezing and nose blowing made it easy to skirt them and their germ-laden atmosphere. Typhoid Mary was another matter. We first noticed a blanket-wrapped bundle in the yoga room around the 2nd morning. As the yoga class moved around her, she made half-hearted attempts at stretching between snuffling, sneezing and coughing. Three days later she made a little speech expressing her gratitude for all the lovely people who had offered her medicine and expressed concern for her health. Not wanting to sound too cynical, I would bet a poached egg that they were acting in self-defense.
In the end it didn’t matter; our group members steadily succumbed to the virus over the next week. Some flew home yesterday with it in tow and Debbie and I are recuperating by the pool at the Dewa Retreat. We’re grateful that the hotel provides toilet paper, but we’d sure appreciate some Kleenex.
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 appropriately housed at a TB sanatorium. Wracking (uncovered) coughs and constant sneezing and nose blowing made it easy to skirt them and their germ-laden atmosphere. Typhoid Mary was another matter. We first noticed a blanket-wrapped bundle in the yoga room around the 2nd morning. As the yoga class moved around her, she made half-hearted attempts at stretching between snuffling, sneezing and coughing. Three days later she made a little speech expressing her gratitude for all the lovely people who had offered her medicine and expressed concern for her health. Not wanting to sound too cynical, I would bet a poached egg that they were acting in self-defense.
In the end it didn’t matter; our group members steadily succumbed to the virus over the next week. Some flew home yesterday with it in tow and Debbie and I are recuperating by the pool at the Dewa Retreat. We’re grateful that the hotel provides toilet paper, but we’d sure appreciate some Kleenex.
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