Flying Without Wings

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We do want to keep blogging every couple of days as we have done for the whole of our trip but it has to be said that, whilst we are still, there is little that happens of note on a daily basis to report. We are keeping our senses open for interesting little anecdotes that might be floating by nevertheless. That said, I am not sure that there are any from the last couple of days.

18 December 2010

Here goes…

Yesterday can be best described as a duvet day - until I got a sudden urge to tidy towards the end of the day. I have always found it easier to arise in the mornings if the space that I awake in is ordered and this morning was no exception. We had decided to try two new yoga classes today the first being Anusara Yoga and the second Acro, or ‘couples’ yoga. I was up for it the moment that I got out of bed and was dressed and ready to move in almost record time. It was an insanely beautiful morning, the sun was high and, as we are in the tropics, the air heavy with humidity as we hopped on the moped and headed in the direction of Desa Seni through the paddy fields and along the dirt track (incidentally, I have today discovered that Desa Seni means ‘art village’ and there is nothing about Desa Seni that isn’t, in one way or another, artistic. It is one of those places that is so beautiful that it is impossible to do it justice with words and to share photographs feels as if it is to do it an injustice).

Arriving at Desa Seni is like arriving amongst friends. All of the staff are supremely friendly and appear to take a genuine interest in their guests. One of the ladies always recognises us and says “hello Mr Gregg” which never ceases to make me smile. They also sound a gong whenever anyone crosses the threshold which somehow adds to the Eden like qualities of the place.

We were both a little apprehensive about this class because it is the first ‘intermediate’ level class that we have attempted and we were worried about finding ourselves to be out of our depth. We needn’t have worried because, although we did some poses that we haven’t done before, this was a class where it was easy to go at your own pace and to step back for a moment or so when our stamina evaded us (or, more accurately, MY stamina evaded ME). That is something I seriously need to work on. My body says “ouch this hurts” and I never fail to respond with “ok, have a break then”. My goal is to manage at least one class without having to step it back a bit before we go home. If I manage that, I will be happy.

After class, we retired to the restaurant for copious amounts of free ginger tea. Do not imagine when I say ‘restaurant’ that I am referring to a place set with fine silver cutlery over starched white table cloths. No, this place is altogether more homely than that. Shoes, as all over south-east asia, are left outside, the bamboo floor creaks slightly under your feet as you gently pad across it, the tables are set with loosely arranged flowers from the gardens at centre stage, glasses nestling on crochet flower coasters and bamboo taking the place of straws. This is the kind of place that, but for the prices, it would be perfectly possible to while away entire days without having any concept of quite where they might have gone.

So that is what we did. Well, sort of. We decide that we would have lunch at Desa Seni and then make use of the facilities (which, unlike the place that we gate crashed in Vietnam, was above board and totally acceptable) whilst waiting for our afternoon class. However all we had with us was Gregg’s wallet and the clothes we were standing in so we nipped back to the apartment, filled a backpack with what we thought we might need for the afternoon and headed back to tranquillity.

That brings us to Couples Yoga. The start of this class reminded me of the often excruciating opening moments of many seminars that I have attended when the participants can’t shake the feeling that they might have unwittingly wandered in to a self-help meeting rather than the advertised opportunity for continuing professional development. I mean really, why did the entire room need to know that I am Louise and I am from England and have only just started practising yoga and that Gregg is, well Gregg, he is my husband and he hopes that he doesn’t drop me too often during the class? I know that it is touchy feely and a very open way to commence a group experience and I commend it for that but it just isn’t me.

This was a fun class and it was energising to share practice with others rather than to inhabit my own yoga mat island moving to my own rhythm as in the other classes that we have attended. The only trouble was that Gregg had gone and jinxed it. Yes folks, he dropped me - right over the top of his head and on to my elbow. As I hit the floor with a loud thud 12 pairs of eyes were suddenly on me and a very concerned teacher was at my side checking that I was ok. Fortunately, the only thing that was really battered was my ego and, even then, not to a particularly great extent and I decided that I should approach this like I had fallen off my first bike and just get straight back on again. Eventually I did manage to fly and there is even photographic evidence - just not on my camera.

For the record, Gregg also went flying using me as a base and I didn’t drop him. Not once.

I realise that I am using the word ‘flying’ and you may have absolutely no idea what I am referring to. Just to set your mind at rest, there is nothing hippy dippy about it, nor does the experience rely on the ingestion of any illegal substance. Remember when you were a kid and your friend would lie on his or her back with legs in the air and you would prostrate yourself across their feet pretending to be superman? Well, this is like that but with more method than madness. It also includes an element peculiar to adult flying - at least a sprinkling of fear.

19 December 2010

For the first time in ages I am actually writing about a day on the same day that the events took place. I discover that it doesn’t actually make my recollection of the day any clearer (and, before you ask, no I have not been drinking) but perhaps that has more to do with the fact that today we have had a proper Sunday. Thus, today we have not been to yoga, we had a long lazy brunch and spent the afternoon sitting on the balcony reading, doing sudoku puzzles and surfing the internet. Now, it seems, we are watching an award ceremony on TV (The US Scream awards - never heard of them before). As a result, for the first time in months, a Sunday actually feels like a Sunday and I can feel that I am gearing up to start a new week tomorrow. It is true to say that, since we don’t have to venture out in the cold and find our way to work in the morning, there is none of the usual Sunday night feeling that we all know and love but today most definitely feels like a Sunday. Perhaps I am not ready to retire after all. I suppose some, notably my husband, would say 'hurrah for that'.

p.s. I might have forgotten to mention that the hotel shop sells the aforementioned crochet flower coasters and bamboo straws and that a taste of Desa Seni might just be making an appearance in a terraced house near you in 2011. Oh yes, I am still a shopaholic.

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Photos

My Beetroot & Goat Cheese Salad
It was amazing to taste goats cheese - we have been parted for far too long. Another thing to add to the 'must eat and drink in Australia' list.

Gregg's half eaten 80% organic lunch
perching on the end of a sun bed - how decadent is that?!?!

The view from Warung Eropa
...not very exciting, I know but I am short on pics for this blog!

Hanging from that tree is an enormous fruit
I think it is either a Durian or a Jack Fruit. In either case, that is going to hurt if it lands on your head.