Yoga Part 1

Day 1

After bartering with a taxi driver in Thamel, I agreed on a slightly inflated price and set out to the Ananda Yoga Center. There are several yoga/meditation retreat centers in Kathmandu and after doing a search online I found two centers that combined yoga and meditation into a comprehensive daily schedule that seemed like it would be up my alley. After emailing one about price (and getting an extremely acceptable answer), I decided on Ananda Yoga Center. It’s outside the center of Kathmandu, a few kilometers down a bumpy dirt road off of the main ring road that surrounds the city. The cab driver drove more recklessly than needed and despite having called for directions before we left , hehad to call again. But we arrived, safe and sound.  

As this is prime trekking season, I assumed the yoga center would be busy but I found that I was among only three other yoga students. There’s Giuzi, an Italian lady taking a break from her adopted city of London, first through a scholarship to study in China, then volunteering at a Buddhist monastery outside Kathmandu. She’s taking a few days’ break from the monastery to do some yoga. There’s Holka from Germany though apparently he hasn’t lived there for quite some time, having spent the last year in southeast Asia and spending nine months or so working and traveling in Australia before that. Then there’s Karim, an Egyptian who grew up in Kuwait and the gulf then went to college in the UK, and hasn’t spent time in the US despite having a very American accent which he blames on watching too much TV.

There are also the staff members, who I haven’t had much conversation with yet and whose names I hope I’ll be able to remember soon. There’s also the guru of the center, Sannyasi Shivgiri, a very smiley, friendly man who I feel has something to teach me. He has a knowing but not presumptuous look in his eye. Conversation only hints at the deeper, though perhaps I should be thinking deeper than I am. We’ll see.  

I’ve booked in for a week here at the center, though I have another week to fill afterward. If the center agrees with me, I may book in another week. The quiet is so very welcome, though I have a feeling I’d get restless after a week. Perhaps I’ll need a bit more movement. There’s always the possibility of going on a three or four night trek and doing a few days of yoga at the other center, just to mix things up a bit.  

So far it’s been alright. There was an hour and a half to kill before the first yoga session, which was yoga nidra, or “yogic sleeping”. We lay down on our mats, sequentially relax different parts of the body, then get directed on what to listen to, focus on, etc all the while remaining relaxed and still.  

Then there was a bit more spare time, then lunch which is the lightest meal of the day and somewhat of a treat. We had something that looked like mushed up banana bread but must have been some kind of small grain with brown sugar, coconut and something else, along with some fresh fruit. It was a good first meal. 

Then there was another two hours to while away before the next class of yoga, which was mostly stretching and sun salutations, then a bit of meditation.  

Dinner follows shortly after, rice, cooked greens, curried vegetables and some sort of curry liquid (which may have had a handful of lentils in it?). It's simple and tasty, though this kind of food would be a scary presence to childhood Tina. We eat sitting on the floor, westerners using a spoon and the guru-ji, staff and one adventurous German girl use their fingers (she was apparently in town today, though she’s leaving tomorrow). Cockroaches fly around us, crash landing onto the floor and wiggling around on their backs, thankfully on the other side of the room. Still, there are cockroaches on the floor and I’m eating off a plate on the ground…

We chat for a while after dinner the turn in to bed. Early nights. Even earlier mornings.

Day 2

I slept through the first morning chant! I woke up at 6:40am and they were in full swing with someone absolutely belting out their songs. A shower seemed like a better idea than going in 40 minutes late, especially when half the neighborhood was in there chanting, too. Will have to do better tomorrow. 

I slept horribly. Since the windows aren’t exactly sealed, it basically sounds like I’m outside. And I can’t sleep with both earplugs in, I’m too paranoid. So I slept with one earplug in. On a spartanly thin mattress on a wooden frame. Mattress is generous, it’s closer to a camping mat. I must have been sleeping when the bell was rang. 

After chanting was the morning yoga class with a bit of meditation thrown in for good measure. After this people sit and stand around outside drinking tea until the bell rings for breakfast. The bell is the time marker for everything—morning chanting, meals, classes. The bell is important as the schedule is quite lax and class may begin anywhere from on time to an hour after it’s scheduled. Regard the bell. 

After breakfast there are a few hours of break time, which kind of freaked me out. I thought I was in classes pretty much from 5:30am (when the schedule says chanting begins) to dinner at 6pm. So break time is filled with chatting with other students or reading. And perhaps a bit of computer time.  

Yoga nidra is the next class before lunch. Yoga nidra. The instructor echoes in the background every so often to direct your attention here or there. Listen to the different noises. Relax your body. Count your breath backward from 27. That sort of thing. Occasionally you hear people snoring. Today our guru man joined us and played a recording of his guru instructing our yoga nidra practice. Our guru snored laughably loud (despite the reminder to not fall asleep).  

Then there’s lunch and more free time. For lunch today, our guru invited us over to his house. His wife gave us fresh yogurt, fruit and a mixture of rice krispies doused in savory spice mix with some nuts and bhuja mix for good measure. Completely random to my western palate. We sit and chat about this and that, the guru’s yoga history and how he says he’s younger now than when he started 25ish years ago. He also proudly points out his cow saying they’re such difficult creatures to tame. As the cow stands completely still. Then he asks if we’d like to go for a walk with him. I’m starting to get a bit antsy at the idea of being here and only here for a week. I nod enthusiastically, yes, please take me for a walk. These legs need to stretch outside of the yoga hall. He says he’s not taking us to a temple, and we follow him for a half hour walk. 

We arrive at a white building with colorful flags on the outside and music floating out the front door. We walk into a room bedecked in pictures of gods and goddesses with bright yellow and red saris hanging from the walls. There are offerings of food, money, flowers and candles at the center of the room with women sitting at the back and men on either side. There’s a man in front playing an accordion and a few other men playing drums, cymbals and tambourines. We nod, Namaste, and are gestured into the room. Our guru pays who must be the man in charge and he welcomes us, marking our foreheads with the now-familiar mixture of vermilion, yogurt and rice and sprinkling our heads with fresh flowers. (I also have to mention that all of the pictures of gods and goddesses also have fresh red spots on their foreheads. They're celebrating, too!)

He repeats this process as the small room fills with other celebrants. Tonight is the full moon and the last day of the Dashain festival, so it’s time to celebrate. Our guru chatters away with the other people in the room and shortly after our arrival, he places himself at the accordion to lead the singing. He sings a solo song or two, then the rest are crowd songs and everyone gets in on the action. We’ve got the drums back, we’ve got people clapping, rocking and getting into the music. I felt pretty special to have been able to sit in and clap with these people in their celebration. Even if I had no idea what they were singing about.  

After sitting cross-legged for two hours in a squishy, people-filled room, our legs began to ache. Luckily the end was near. And it was food time! There was more of the savory rice krispy mixture, along with those swirly Indian sweets you see in the movies (they are fried—and dang sugary), sweet fried bread in the shape of a circle, and some spicy chickpeas. They offered us more and more food, and who am I to turn down sweet bread?  

As night began to fall and the mosquitoes began to eat my ankles, we returned to the center. People here call it an ashram, but the word doesn’t quite seem to fit for me. Our guru doesn’t seem like he’s super well-known or famous. And there are so few students and such a large amount of free time, it just doesn’t seem like what I envision an ashram to be. Though that’s probably coming from watching Eat, Pray, Love. Maybe I should look at the definition of an ashram more closely. But for now, I’ll keep calling it the center. 

I called it an early night and went to my room and read after dinner. I have a feeling that’s how the rest of the week will go.