A WING AND A PRAYER

Monday, January 5th at 19:32

Within the period of twenty four hours we may have accomplished more than we have this entire journey. We left the small town, known as Viru, where we stayed, which is immediately adjacent to Hampi, which was the town that was explored in our last post, at around 16:00 (or 4pm for those of you who have not been forced to adjust to the twenty-four hour clock, or military time as it is known in the States). We took the small, shaky, severely overloaded ferry across the river to Hampi town and stopped to have dinner at a place called the Mango Tree Cafe, overlooking an incredible scene of boulder strewn mountains, a relatively clear river and loads of banana and palm trees. After yet another wonderful Indian meal, it was in a rickshaw and off to the adjacent town of Hospet, about 15 kilometers away, to catch a 19:50 train that did not actually arrive until about 20:30. We boarded the three tiered, air conditioned sleeper car and settled into our top bunks where we read until we fell asleep. We bounced, jarred and swayed somewhere in between sleep and partially awake for about nine and one half hours until we reached the terminal end at Bangalore city, the place we had recently enjoyed a wonderful Christmas in our “deluxe” suite with Peter and Julia, and where we would have a five hour layover until our next train to Mysore. We walked around downtown Bangalore at the crack of dawn, enjoying the hustle and bustle of the waking city as well as our new found confidence for traveling in India and handling crazy travel schedules. After walking up an appetite, we stepped into a hotel just a stones throw from the train station and proceeded to do what no Indians ever do, have a two and one half hour breakfast talking about our plans, our expectations and our incredibly good fortune before heading back to catch the Shatabdi Express to Mysore. Two and one half more hours in our air conditioned chair coach and we had arrived. To what, we were not quite sure...yet. We knew that K. Pattabhi Jois oversaw his Ashtanga Yoga Institute, we knew that Idalis wanted to attend and we knew it was somewhere in Mysore. A quick stop into the tourist information office yielded a decent map and directions to the closest internet cafe. We checked email, checked the blog (of course) and checked to see if Idalis had been accepted to the institute. No message pertaining to the preceding was found. So, “on a wing and a prayer” we set out in a rickshaw to find this place, which even the rickshaw driver had to get instructions to. The Ashtanga Yoga Institute is located in a small town, adjacent to Mysore, known as Gokulam. He dropped us off right in front of the institute at 14:15. We noticed a sing that said registration was to take place from 15:30 to 17:00. So, without a clue, we sat and waited as more and more people showed up to secure their spot in this most prestigious and desirable institutions for the acquisition of knowledge pertaining to the art of Ashtanga yoga.

By the time the office opened there were at least twenty-five people waiting to register. I commented to Idalis that I wonder if these practitioners of the yogic arts would assure that everyone would maintain the order of which they had arrived, meaning we would have been third, instead of second to last as we were once they all bum rushed the door while we labored with gathering our back packs and moving inside. Nonetheless, we made it in, walked around the shala and admired the photographs, posters and memorabilia as we nervously awaited a response to whether Idalis would be accepted without having actually made the deadline of having her application in “no less than” sixty days in advance.

We nervously shuffled until Nancy, a young Asian girl, approached us and asked our names. I made sure to tell her that I was not on the list and had not submitted an application knowing full well there was no way I could perform “Marichyasana D” (a complicated yoga position). I did, however, explain that Idalis had submitted an application and that it took two weeks just for them to get it and that the way we were traveling posed so many complications that it was impossible to give exact dates and meet the entry requirements of the shala. It made no difference, as she was quick to tell us that the shala was full and the drop in tourism, due to the Mumbai attacks, had no bearing on their receipt of numerous applications. Shortly after hanging our heads in defeat, she proffered a solution. Instead of being instructed by Pattabhi Jois' son Sarnath, seeing as 92 year old Pattabhi Jois no longer gives instruction, she could join Pattahbi Jois' daughter's class, Saraswati, who had been teaching for over thirty years. In addition, instead of having to attend classes at 4:30 in the morning, she could attend at 9:30 and for far less rupees than if she were excepted into the main class. We looked at each other and agreed this was a win, win situation. I immediately ran to the closest bank and wrestled with the ATM until I could pull out the funds needed to pay tuition. Now, that was done, all we had to do was find a place to live for a month!

First, it was off to the house across the street, where a man by the name of Shiva lived. He was said to run many home stays, and in fact showed us a couple of rooms. They were small rooms with shared bathrooms and kitchens. More or less, what we had become accustomed to. We decided not to commit and see what else was available. We were then referred to Murthy, another gentlemen who was said to have home stays. We could not find him. So, on one last lead, we found the local tailor, known as Swami, who drove me around to several places on his moped. Each one had already been filled by traveling students who had recently arrived for the new year yoga sessions that would begin in two days. At last, we arrived at a brand new building a few blocks from the ashram and sat and waited, and waited, and waited (an Indian ten minutes), until Dinesh showed up to unlock the door to what would be our beautiful, quaint, little efficiency on the top floor of the building. After seeing the inside and confirming that there was twenty-four hour hot water, a ceiling fan, a refrigerator and a mosquito net, we moved in, and signed a lease for a month, and all for the price of 5000 rupees, which is the equivalent of 100 US dollars.

As I write this we are now on our third day and life is getting better by the moment. Our efficiency apartment is fantastic, though very small. It is brand new and barely has any sings of use. We have decorated it with the few pictures of friends and family that we have. We have stocked it with essentials and even went out to do a bit of grocery shopping today so that we can make some food, that will not have curry in it! We have walked the neighborhood to meet our neighbors, find the local restaurants and cafes and see where the best shopping is. The efficiency currently smells of fusillini pasta, tomato, eggplant, onion and paneer (cheese), as Idalis has whipped up an incredible meal with a hot plate and a Leatherman knife!

Life in Gokulam is great. This suburb of Mysore is unusually clean, loaded with new and ultra modern homes and even has sidewalks. It appears to be a neighborhood that consists of middle and upper class people, but retains a small village feel with its shops and stalls. There are expatriates and yoga students scattered around and the locals are incredibly friendly and accommodating. It is the most wonderful feeling to walk down the streets and be able to smile at people and have them return a bright, happy and sincere smile back at you. Most of the neighbors in our ten unit building are practicing yoga students, with the exception of our neighbor Joseph who came here to practice at the Ashtanga Institute sixteen years ago and never left. I think we can fully understand why as we are rapidly falling in love with our new, temporary home.

We spent our first weekend as tourists and did some sightseeing in Mysore. We did our best to make it to the western breakfast buffet, seriously craving a piece of bacon, at the Tiger Tail restaurant in the Metropole Hotel. However, we got there too late, which actually turned out to be a blessing as we made full advantage of the buffet lunch. After sitting around in the beautiful courtyard of this uber expensive hotel and enjoying an all you can eat buffet, it was off to the Mysore Palace. A palace whose construction was initiated by Maharani Vanivilas Sannidhan in 1897 and occupied first by the reigning king of Mysore, Krishnaraja Wodeyar IV. It stands at 145 feet tall, cost 4.14 million to construct and was completed in 1912. And, lucky for us, they illuminate it every Sunday evening with over 97,000 individual light bulbs. It is a spectacle to behold both inside and out. It is lavishly decorated and meticulously preserved. It is, thus far, one of the most impressive historical monuments that we have visited in India.

With so much time on our hands and an overwhelming satisfaction with being able to just stay put for a while, we are excited at the prospect of actually getting to know a place. We have lots of plans, lots that we want to see. Idalis will continue with her Ashtanga yoga courses, I have signed up to do some volunteer work with the Institute and once again the forces of nature have conspired to be in our favor.