Category Archives: sri lanka

peradeniya botanical garden, sigiriya, dambulla swim

by

The last batch of Sri Lanka photos (link is to the sixth and final Sri Lanka slide show)! Thank heavens. In the interest of completion, I can’t start on the Australia snaps until I’ve finished all the Sri Lanka photo tales.

On our way from the elephant orphanage we stopped for tea at a road house, where this adorable girl was lunching. We went on to the Peradeniya Botanical Gardens, where we were descended upon by school groups who wanted to practice their English. We got stuck in a thunderstorm with school boys from an elite school in Colombo (all the above illustrated in the slide show), and chatted with a Muslim Sri Lankan selling ice creams at the refreshment stand who told us about the cruelty of the Buddhists (the majority religion in Sri Lanka). We heard this complaint from other Muslims and Hindus as well.

The next day we went north to Sigiriya, where a 5th century king had built a palace on top of a huge slab of granite. There was a big climb to see the remaining frescoes, more school children (right), and a great view. Andrea wasn’t terribly impressed by it all, but I was glad we climbed it.

We skipped some of the other sites and instead went for a swim in the river near Dambulla, which our driver recommended. There was a strong current on one side and we floated around in circles, battling out of the current back toward the rocks as not to be swept downstream. I swam in my pants and shirt as not to scandalize the locals who were there shaving, bathing, and laundering. The swim (pictured below) was the highlight of the excursion. Our driver (I’m blanking on his name) asked us not to tell the guesthouse owner he’d taken us swimming. Of course we wouldn’t.

We went back for our last night in Kandy, in our guesthouse with the great views. The next morning we took the train to Colombo and spent my last night in luxury at the Galle Face Hotel (Andrea stayed on in Sri Lanka for two more weeks, exploring the beaches between Colombo and Galle Fort. I went back to work.) The Galle Face Hotel was lovely.

My Colombo-Bangalore-London flight back was on Kingfisher. The flights were great, the food was great, the entertainment was great. I recommend them highly, though no one at JFK had heard of them or knew how to put our bags through when we left. And though the flight attendants were all stewardesses—old-fashioned, high-heeled, hyper-girly servants. On the Bangalore to London flight there were a number of bronzed, muscly, hippied-out ashtangis leaving Mysore. They made me smile. My London-NYC flight was on Virgin Atlantic, which was also quite good, though their customer service leaves something to be desired. Both airlines were light years better than my United flights from Sydney earlier this week.

That’s it! That’s the Sri Lanka saga. Did not finish it before Australia, but I finished it before launching into the Aussie photos. Coming soon.

…

pinnawela elephant orphanage, sri lanka

by

elesAt long last, the Pinnawela Elephant photos. This is the 5th of the Sri Lanka shows. Only more more, of a trip north of Kandy, which will be fairly short. I love these photos. The elephants are amazing.

Cerno has a piece on the ethics of elephant watching which I read long before I got to editing these. While I feel somewhat the same way about zoos (they depress me. It’s not an ethical issue. I don’t judge people who frequent them), I was intent on going to the orphanage outside Kandy.

DSC_0029The orphanage was founded in 1975 because elephants were close to extinction in Sri Lanka (before the Brits arrived, the number was 30,000). Now there are about 3000. The elephants at the orphanage have lost their mothers or herds. Sama, at right, lost her leg to a land mine, and the last elephant in the slideshow is blind. Sama seemed very sweet, almost interested in our attention, while the others seemed happily oblivious.

The elephants are taken from the orphanage to the river twice a day to bathe. Busloads of tourists—the first and last we saw in Sri Lanka—flock to the river to watch.

Tourists or not (we were lucky and arrived a bit before the busloads), the elephants were amazing. My grandmother collected elephant figures and had thousands of them, which partly inspired my desire to see them, and I’m delighted we did. They were beautiful.

Care for the elephants (there are over 80) is funded by the government and profits from the tourism.

…

the next trip: down under

by

rani elephant sri lanka

Now that I’m almost done with editing and posting the Sri Lanka pics (above, Rani. More in the next post), my free time has been hijacked by planning for the next trip. I bought tickets this week for an eight week trip to Australia, a 40-hr journey to Perth (perhaps more door-to-door), where I’ll meet Andrea. We’ll hang out there awhile and then head south to Margaret River, Esperance, and continue on across to Adelaide, Melbourne, Canberra, and Sydney. Yes, this is a huge trip to be taken in Andrea’s green station wagon, purchased more or less for this sort of trip. I’m excited because I can use some time camping and resting on the beach after so much city life. Will be an adventure if the car breaks down, but that’s all part of the deal. Anyone who tells me this is mad can read about my friend Sherry’s lone bike trip across Australia. I think we can manage it in a car (though that train does look nice).

So I’m a bit behind on finishing up on the Sri Lanka stories. I’d hoped to be finished by now. And scancafe is meant to have my 5,000 some images ready to peruse—in ten days. To divide the free time between finishing and planning is difficult, as plans have a deadline. (Though it might not seem so from my travels, I do work.) I’m hoping to write and edit a bit as I go on this trip, but we’ll see. It is nice to set the laptop down (if not the camera).

Any thoughts (advice, experiences, etc) are very welcome.

haputale train station on to kandy

by

From Sri Lanka::Hill Country Trainscapes. I love the way the girl’s dress blends into the flowers at the station.

haputale train station

The train ride became less and less scenic the closer we got to Kandy, and the extremely slow pace of the train, then our unexpected change of trains in Kegalle (I think) became a bit draining. Once in the station at Kandy, we found a driver to take us to Sharon Inn, which Samantha had recommended. It was run by a Muslim Sri Lankan and his German wife.

DSC_0004

We choose a room on a higher floor with amazing views from the balcony. The Inn sits on top of a hill overlooking the lake and the Temple of the Tooth. We were starving and so ordered up tea and cookies (biscuits) because dinner wouldn’t be ready for a few hours. Exhausted but pleased, we sat outside on the balcony and marveled at the city below. It was fabulous.  (Our view pictured above, Temple of the Tooth at top left.)

I just came across this excellent site, Lankapura, with old images of Sri Lanka. Very nice. I’m in the process of editing the elephant orphanage photos. They are amazing creatures.

…

the best train ride ever

by

sri lanka trainWell, in my life anyway. I’ve travelled a bit by train. Moscow-Leningrad (was L at the time), Berlin-Warsaw-Vilnius-Kaunas, Mumbai-Kochi (before the west-coast train went in, so it went through Hyderabad and Bangalore. It was about 36hrs long. India hours, mind you), Mangalore-Goa, Mumbai-Ahmedabad-Jaipur, Jaisalmer-Delhi, Tashkent-Ferghana/Kokand, Tashkent-Samarkand-Bukhara, and NYC-Montreal. Some were hellish, some were quite nice, but this ride, though long, was gorgeous.

Some of the photos are blurred because of the motion of the train. Slideshow iv is done. It’s entirely the views from the train and train stations, so it’s a bit shorter than the others. Only two more shows after this, and the Sri Lanka photos will be entirely edited.

The train was the first we came across non-Sri Lankan tourists. There were two tattooed Germans (note the motorbike jacket over the seat) and a middle-aged French couple. They all got off in Nur-Eliya (Nuwara Eliya). We didn’t have the time.

There are photos of women tea-pickers. One is obvious, but the others are less so. Look for dots of white amidst the green of the tea plants. Again, Cerno and Sigma have good blog posts about tea cultivation in Sri Lanka (called Ceylon by the British colonizers).

…

train from ella to kandy

by

DSC_0088

I spent my morning looking for Ingrida Cox (née Gunkaite). We met in Klaipeda in 1995 and she moved to Australia with an Australian she later married. I lost track of her around 2000, I think. Today is her birthday (if you know how to reach her, send her to me via contact at GrumpyYoga).

I’m still editing the train photos. I love trains, and this was certainly the most scenic I’ve been on. We waited almost two hours for the train, as it was late. We’d booked our tickets on the first night we arrived in Ella, as the “scenic” car, which is somewhat comfy, sells out very early. We found our seats and settled in. I was glued to the window for hours, while Andrea read. He found me quite funny and childlike to be so excited by the train. How could I not be? It was so gorgeous, moving through that scenery.

We heard plenty of stories before and after about the safety of the trains, about how the tracks wash out, and how it’s common to be stranded in the middle of nowhere. By the end it was exhausting as the last few hours aren’t scenic, the novelty has worn off, and the train barely moves. A trip that would take two hours by car on western roads took about 10hrs on that train. But the views were incredible and the roads don’t offer the same views.

Slideshow to come.

dunhinda falls~bridal falls

by

fallsdunhinda06There were more couples talking shyly with one another, some even holding hands, on the hilly 1km walk to Dunhinda Falls, than anywhere else we went in Sri Lanka (see slideshow iii). These were, refreshingly, the boldest public displays of affection we encountered. There were also lots and lots of aggressive monkeys on the walk.

There are two myths connected with the falls. One concerns a king and a fern. The other is about lovers who were ordered to separate. Instead, they threw themselves down the cliff, a storm began, and the falls formed. I found this info online as it wasn’t mentioned by anyone there, nor was it in the guidebooks.

The falls are gorgeous and the walk beautiful. Again, Andrea was keen on swimming and had brought his bathers. I advised against it. Having picked up giardia (I love that the CDC calls it a germ. It’s a parasite) more than once in my Asian travels, I was in no hurry to swim the rushing waters of Dunhinda Falls, which probably wouldn’t be the best idea even if the waters are parasite-free.

fallsdunhinda15The cluster of young guys on rocks nearby eating cookies, ho-ho-esque golden cakes and drinking sodas from 1.5L bottles agreed. They told Andrea that it was dangerous and he’d best not go in.  While yes, we were the only foreign tourists, Sri Lankans aplenty had come to admire the falls. These boys were from Tangalle, where we’d come from the day before. We chatted a bit about this and that. They’d taken the bus there (truly unpleasant) early that morning and were headed back that afternoon. They were happy to try out their English on us, and we were happy to meet some Tangalle teens. They didn’t seem too excited about their life prospects, but who can be sure given our conversation level. We were pleased we’d been to their hometown, as we’d been almost nowhere but the beach at that point in the trip. They were funny and charming (aside from asking Andrea how much money he made, hee hee), and made the trip to the falls as fun as the impromtu ride in the tea truck the previous day.

fallsdunhinda13Andrea followed their guidance and didn’t swim, though there was a Sri Lankan man washing something on the large rocks in the water (see slideshow iii). We made our way back to our driver who took us back to Ella, where we had an amazing spread of Sri Lankan curries, rice, and Lion Lager. We checked our email after and I downloaded my images onto a flash drive before heading back to Ambiente.

I could have rested and read for days enjoying the scenery and quiet at the Ambiente guesthouse, but we had limited time and train tickets on to Kandy the next morning.

Alas! That’s it for slideshow iii, which ends with our breakfast views from the guesthouse. Now to edit the next batch, the train ride through the hill country to Kandy. Oh words cannot describe how I loved that trip.

…

halpewatte tea factory tour~or~think for a second about what you use

by

view from ambiente guesthouseThe previous night (16 March 09) we’d arranged for a car to take us to the tea factory and Dunhinda Falls. Andrea had done well finding a place in town with much much better rates than Ambiente (as a rule when traveling, unless you’ve money to burn, always find your own driver/guide. Eliminate the middle man, especially if it’s the hotel). I insisted we do the tea tour. I like tea. I like factories. If nothing else, it reminds me how luxurious my life is, even when I’m crammed into a subway car and people are snarking at each other.

We ate an enormous Sri Lankan breakfast of hoppers and curries and sat mesmerized by the view (see the last ten photos of the slideshow iii, if you haven’t already), which made up for our mediocre dinner the night before. It was so breathtaking. So good to be out of the city and so amazingly beautiful.

We made our way down to town and met our driver for the day. We started at the UVA Halpewatte Tea Factory, which looks amazingly flash in the website. On our tour, well, the picture below is a bit more accurate. The guy we organized the tour with was cranky with us and rude to his employees. There was no photography in the factory, which was fine as it was dark, and flash photog is generally miserable in dark places.

UVA Halpewatte Tea FactoryThe process of making the tea was interesting and amazingly greuling and hot for the women doing it. There might have been a few men, but it was mostly women. And this was probably easier than picking the damn leaves, which women do from 6am to 6pm, in addition to caring for their families and being bossed about by the man of the house. Sigma has an interesting blog post on the life of a tea planter, and Cerno offers a caricature (perhaps best read first) of this colonial legacy. Definitely worth a read.

Knowing the labor behind what we consume is important, I think. The world would be very different if we all had to put that kind of labor in for even one day. Puts a different light on the groans of a day job when I consider what could be. Often I go back to the conversation I had with a young guy selling lemonade drinks outside the gates of Khiva in Uzbekistan. I was complaining about the tourists (I was their guide and had momentarily escaped them) and the kid told me that I had quite a good job, actually, even if I did work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, because I would leave Khiva and eventually Uzbekistan. He could not.

In Sri Lanka, I missed the aspect of learning about what was going on behind the scenes, what workers really experienced and felt, which took time, contacts, and trust to learn firsthand in Central Asia. It’s just not possible on a quick country tour, which is why I’m so glad to have come across blogs that discuss this, and their comments as well (thanks for the links, Kirigalpoththa).

At the tea factory, we were again the only tourists around. We didn’t get to try their tea, as they didn’t have water that day, or were having problems with it (huh?). So after our tour, we left and headed off to Dunhinda Falls, an hour or so away.

…

hitching a ride in a tea truck, ceylon-style

by

From Buduruwagala we went on to Ella, stopping at Ravana Ella Falls and a little part-Hindu, part-Buddhist temple on the way (see slideshow iii). Andrea wanted to swim at the falls but decided against it. There were a few guys showering nearby, and lots of families with kids.

view_ellaguesthouse08Ella is a small town in the gorgeous hill country of Sri Lanka. Samantha took us to the guesthouse he’d recommended and he did well. The room was lovely and the views were amazing (at right, the last ten photos of slideshow iii, and the mostly dark image with the doors are at/from the Ambiente guesthouse). We ate lunch, then he left us at little Adam’s Peak for a hike and took off for the trip back to Tangalle. When Samantha left us on the road, he pointed out where we could catch a taxi or rickshaw back, and off we went.

The climb was fairly easy and, like the beach and Buduruwagala, we were alone amidst crazy-gorgeous beauty. Once at the top, we sat and admired before turning back, as it was getting late. When we got back to the road, there was no traffic at all. We weren’t entirely sure which way town was, as we came out a different way than we went in. We came across a guard at the entry to an imposing tea factory. He couldn’t understand our attempts to communicate, but he found someone who told us we could walk toward the taxi stand in one direction, or toward town, a few miles away in the other. We opted for the taxi station as it was getting dark and we weren’t keen to walk the curvy-hilled streets in the dark. Before long a tea truck come by and slowed down. The cab was full, but they asked us if we wanted a ride, and told us to hop into the back of the truck full of tea leaves. We did. The truck was less fancy that the one pictured, which I snapped on our tea factory tour the next day. Its bed had solid sides and no cover, so we were free to fall out on a sharp turn. All part of the excitement.

tea truck ella sri lankaThis was good fun, if a bit wet. We flew in one direction then the other with each curve. When people spotted us, they laughed and waved. We went through a small village, then another. I asked Andrea if we weren’t in fact going in the opposite direction of Ella, slightly concerned particularly after we passed a gaggle of parked rickshaws and continued on out of town. That the hill country is full of Tamils wasn’t a concern, as they have a different history than the Tamils of the north, and most of the problems of the civil war took place there, in Jaffna, at the northern tip of the island. Nonetheless, there’d been a bomb in Matara, the town next to Tangalle, just before we left ashtangalanka. There weren’t meant to be problems in the south, particularly not of that scale, so we were somewhat more alert.

When we finally slowed on the street outside of town, there were a few parked vehicles and rickshaws. One pickup was filled with men, one of whom was dressed in all black with black shades (at dusk) and a black headband. Oooh, not a good look. But I ignored him as we clambered out of the truck, brushed off the leaves, and went to the rickshaw. We had no choice but to go with him back to Ella, and didn’t have much bargaining power, but we bargained anyway. And back we went along the road toward town, back past the gaggle of rickshaws in town which, at this level, we could see had no drivers but were parked for the night. Ten more minutes of winding roads and we were back in Ella. We walked around town, got some water, then went back to the guesthouse for dinner. We had less-than-tasty, room-temperature crepes that took them thirty minutes to conjure as we swatted bugs in the grim cafe before we finally hit the sheets for some reading under the mosquito net—now with light! What luxury.

buduruwagala~buddhist rock carvings~southern sri lanka

by

WalawelaPretty, right? Such was the scenery en route to Buduruwagala. The elephant-shaped rock (below) has seven huge Buddhist figures carved into it.  We went with Samantha and the requisite guide. I’m not sure that the following info was explained as the guide was quite hard to understand, the midday heat was, well, hot, and cheeky Samantha was on the lookout for snakes. He eventually found one hanging in a tree.

Guides in Sri Lanka (okay, the planet over) tend to prefer local lore to current historical scholarship (especially the case at Sigiriya in the north).  I don’t mind this, as the history can be found in a book, and lore tells at least as much about people and their identity.

buduruwagala temple02Reading about Buduruwagala now, it doesn’t seem to be called a temple, but I’m quite sure that locals referred to it as a rock temple. It was  carved in the 10th Century, at the end of the period when Mahayana Buddhism was popular in Sri Lanka, as well as Theravadan Buddhism, which continues to thrive in the present day. These Mahayana carvings feature the Buddha, tall at center; Avalokiteshvara, in white at left; and Aryathara (Tara) and an attendant further to the left.

In the slideshow (part iii), there is a photo (before the incense box) of three more figures. On the right is Vajrapani holding a dorje, a thunderbolt which is a tantric symbol seldom seen in Sri Lanka (but common in Tibetan/Vajrayana Buddhism). Natha, the future Buddha, is in the center, and Vishnu is at the left.

Buduruwagala translates from Sinhala as “stone images of the Buddha.” At 51 feet it is the tallest rock carving of Buddha in Sri Lanka and arguably the world, after the loss of the Bamyan figures to the Taliban.

sri lanka photos, part iii

by

The third photo essay is finished! (Again, the controls are bottom right. > is play, <- is back, -> is forward.) There may be five essays instead of four, in all. It’s too pretty a country to edit down further. There’s no narration in this show. Instead, if you care, read the image titles. I’m going to try to post the main features along the way with a few stories, a bit at a time. It was mostly fun to edit them and recall just how gorgeous the trip was—almost seven months ago now.

After eleven nights at ashtangalanka, Samantha, the manager, took us to on Ella. He guides people fairly often and is good at it. He took us to the Buduruwagala Temple (Buddhist) and Ravana Falls en route (photos are in the slideshow). Samantha is quite frank and hilarious. He gave us his view of the history and dynamics at ashtangalanka, which Andrea and I enjoyed immensely. Samantha actually owns the land and Fred rents from him in an interesting relationship that is fairly common in Sri Lanka because the government taxes foreigners 100% of the property value if they buy land. The altnernative is what Fred has done with Samantha—he’s leased the land for 99 years, with a tax of 7%.

A bit on the Buduruwagala Temple tomorrow.

ravana falls, sri lanka

by

…

c_ravanaella03

…

It takes a long time to edit photos. Usually a few days for each of the batches that you see. Part three is done. I just have to put it into flash and tell the story. In the meantime, here’s a shot of guys taking a shower next to Ravana Ella, or Ravana Falls, in the hill country of Sri Lanka. I took this the day we left Tangalle for travels about the country.

Ravana Falls (also spelled Rawana) is so named because it’s said to be near the cave where Ravana, the evil “Lankan” of the Ramayana, hid Sita from Rama.

…

sri lanka photos, part ii

by

silentbeach01This is the second round of the Sri Lanka photos.  Lots of beaches—best to be in a water mood when you view them. They begin at silent beach, which is a five minute walk from ashtangalanka. It’s the beach of the Amanwella resort, though we saw maybe one guest on this beach, and he was in sandals, walking. He didn’t swim. It was bizarre to swim in such a gorgeous place alone, with Andrea, or the other ashtangalankans, but never a crowd. This was the most beautiful beach I’ve ever visited, I think. It was deserted because there aren’t many tourists in Sri Lanka because of the war (which has since officially ended) and because it was the very end of the tourist season. I hadn’t swum in the ocean for years (since India, I think) and it was amazing. There was, at times, a strong current, and there were moments in the water when I considered that these beaches were hit by the 2004 tsunami. I felt very, very small.

andrea&puppiesMoving along, the house and dog belong to Ben and Katrina, neighbors of Fred who came to dinner several times. They’re an interesting British couple who spend part of the year here. Ben made Andrea a proper coffee (actually, Lalith the gardener made it), which pleased Andrea immensely. Then it’s back to Rocky Point, with some pics of me, Andrea, and two puppies in the cafe (at right). The puppies were strays adopted by Kathy Cooper, the ashtanga teacher.

These are followed by photos of the road in and out of ashtangalanka, which led to the path to the surf beach (where the cows were). We passed Samatha’s (the manager at AL) brother, who tried to convince Andrea to buy some jewelry. Alas, it was on to the beach. Andrea body surfed, while I took pics with my semi-dead-battery powered camera. It was fun.

To view the slideshow, follow the link and press the play button in the bottom right. The arrow keys take you forward and back, if you don’t like the pace of the show. This is the last of the ashtangalanka/beach photos. Next up: travels in the hill country.

the sri lanka photos!

by

Finally! The first round of Sri Lanka photos are up. This slide show is the first of three or four to come.

flower

flower

Andrea took the photos of me, I took the rest. Most are taken around AshtangaLanka, aka Rocky Point. The rest (the cow pics) are at the next beach.

cow

cow

Still to come are more photos from around ashtangalanka and the nearby beaches, then the photos from the travels around Sri Lanka (which I’ve barely looked at much less edited). Enjoy!

sunday night on holiday

by

It’s Sunday night. 8:09pm. I start an intensive yoga training tomorrow at 8:30am, which runs through Saturday. Good word, I have to get up at 6:30am. Where went my week off?

I’m slowly going though the Sri Lanka pics, only about 70 more to edit until I am done with the pics from ashtangalanka and environs. It’s taking a long time because they are all quite similar and I’m not sure which to cut. I’ve never mastered my digital camera, because I quit professional photog when film was still the standard, and I’ve simply not shot that much digitally by comparison, though my SLR is five years old. The way it reads light is still strange to me, which in Sri Lanka wasn’t helped by the fact that one of the two batteries I took with me was so old as to only hold charge for about 3 minutes, before the meter went mad. I discovered this when Andrea and I went to the surf beach (as we called it, because the waves were suitable for body surfing) and there were two sweet cows on the beach. I kind of fixed the exposures, but alas.

Cows on the beach in Tangalle, Sri Lanka

Cows on the beach in Tangalle, Sri Lanka

I’ve also been reading a novel in the blissful quiet of my home, the most vacation-y thing I’ve done this week. I can’t recall the last time I indulged. It’s quite good, though I’d have cut a hundred pages plus, easily, and tightened up the story (which you’ll be saying upon viewing all the ocean photos in the upcoming photo essay). I’m two-thirds through the book, A Trip to the Stars, and am waiting to get through the rest to see as if ends as I’ve expected since page 37.  I just want the separated lovers to reunite and kiss, damn it.

A week from now will be the eve of my return to the bread and butter job, and the next six days are full of yoga. The last 7 days have been full of yoga as well, lest you think I was clever enough to take the week to laze about my home and stroll in the park. Other than the novel and editing, I’ve been fulfilling the requirements for my advanced training, as well as teaching, and reading about php/wordpress, to see exactly what I can do in this realm. I taught five classes, did five hours of required, supervised privates, and assisted/observed other classes for six hours. That was my week off.  I did lunch with friends three times, squeezed in chats with a few others, and reunited with lost friends Ilona and Narimantas, whom I’ve searched for since I last saw them in Kaunas in 1995 (yes, of course it was assbook). Remarkable. I managed to clean and do laundry in <3 hours today and was delighted to have the rest of the rainy day to read, edit and finally write before it all starts up again tomorrow. I think this might inspire the next post on the yoga blog: what does it take to be a yoga teacher?

My mother told me tonight that Mr. Brown, Herb to my parents, died on Thursday, which was 10 years to the day that my paternal grandmother/namesake died. Mr. Brown lived across the street from us when I was a child. He was incredibly sweet and funny. When I went knocking with my girl scout cookie sales sheet each year, he’d tell me with twinkling eyes what a good girl scout he was in the day—sold more cookies than I would imagine. He’d also mow his lawn in the dark (when it was cooler) and sometimes in circles, walking around in the street to get the edges. The Brown’s daughter, about ten years older than me, was the town’s star softball player, which seemed very tough and glamorous to my eight-year-old self. Mr Brown often practiced his golf in the front yard for hours, and hollered jokes over while I mowed the lawn. “What??” Ah, memories. You were a great neighbor and you made us laugh, Mr. Brown. May you rest peacefully.

at long last

by

Oi! I’ve finally done it. I’ve switched my blog over to a true blog format, which lists posts backwards and allows comments. This is the first post in this format. Those below were on the old blog and I switched them over. I’ll probably change the url and design soon, but it’s nice to have the blog up and working. So much to do. Still stories and photos to edit from Sri Lanka, so I’ll pick up there.

fullmoon

fullmoon at ashtangalanka

As I mentioned in the last post, the characters and vibe at AshtangaLanka had me thinking about the culture around ashtanga, with which I don’t have much experience. In my research for my yoga blog, I came across more ashtanga blogs than any other. Some were very theoretical, like the insideowl, who has an interesting post on ashtanga and imperialism (mentioned to Amanda in the comments of the last post). She referred me to an aussie academic who’s done anthro research on ashtanga as a daily practice, as well as others’ work on yoga. My foray into exploring the world through anthropological eyes put me in a place of too much separation: me observing them. Me experiencing them (and vice verse), and the argument that me/them was too a false a dichotomy to work from, was unacceptable in academia at the time. After years on the road,  it felt fake. In the end, though I’m great with theory, it put me way up in my head and way cut off from the world around me—even the world in me, as my own senses freeze up when my analytical mind takes over. So I opted for a different way. Nevertheless, I do love to flirt with these things from time to time.

Someone asked me about a posting from years back. 2006. I reread it last week and realized that when I have more time to myself, to rest and relax and just be, as I did then, I’m much softer. My writing was much softer. I imagine my teaching was much softer, my being was much softer. I miss that. In Sri Lanka I realized that I feel good, but not connected to my life. Something needs to shift.

Sri Lanka. There are about 400 photos to edit. A few highlights to share of the travels. Oh, to write as I travel, when it’s fresh, rather than four months later! To carry a laptop? Okay, the next post will be stories. xoA.

For ashtanga fans, Sharath is on flickr (thanks elephantbeans).

ashtangis & other guests @ashtangalanka

by

There were about five other guests at AshtangaLanka when we arrived. Jacob, an ashtangi friend of owner Fred and his partner, Mira; Hector, a Miami-based Cuban ashtangi; Alberto, a Paris-based Italian artist & ashtangi; Nicolai, a German juggler-engineer with an interest in yoga; and at a few meals: Stephanie, a Parisian ashtangi who’d come to visit Alberto; and Katrina and Ben, friends of Fred who had a gorgeous house a few beaches over.

Fred, Alberto, and Cathy 11 March 2009Hector, Alberto, and Stephanie were all on visa runs from India, where they’d been practicing Ashtanga Yoga in Mysore. Indian visas are good for six months, after which many yogis head to Colombo to apply for a new one. It takes a week, so some go to the south coast to continue their practice at AshtangaLanka.

Together with Fred, Jacob, and Cathy (the teacher), they’d talk on and on about the Ashtanga scene, Mysore, the Jois family, etc. When it wasn’t terribly boring, it was fascinating. Long before Sri Lanka, I’d done a bit of Ashtanga in a small shala. There were never many people there, so I didn’t realize what a scene it was. They talked about the ashtangis of the 70s, who they studied with, where they stayed in Mysore, what the practice was like, what it meant to them. On and on.

rockypointcakeWhile ashtanga is amazing, this chatter was more interesting to me from an anthropological standpoint—much more than the yoga gossip itself. Jois’s shala in Mysore attracts hundreds of students from around the world, who take up residence in Mysore to study Ashtanga at the crack of dawn (they said class was at 5am), then have the rest of the day to conduct themselves as they like. It’d be fascinating to go there and see what percentage of the town they impact. Or is it just the small area around the shala?

It might also be quite annoying. When I was in Pune (in India) years back, out of curiosity I went to the Osho ashram (or the “Multiversity” as it now seems to be called) for a tour. The neighborhood of the ashram had a western bake shop, many stalls selling maroon robes and Osho books, and lots of white hippies roaming about. It creeped me out. I happened to take the tour with a group of visiting american christian missionaries who asked probing questions like, “why do you insist commune members take an HIV test before they are allowed in?” Osho was known for his questionable sexual practices and group orgies were thought to be common. Osho is the guy who had the 20 or so Rolls at his commune in Oregon before he was deported for tax fraud. This has nothing to do with Ashtanga other than my wondering what Mysore is like with all the international yogis. I suppose it fascinates me because yoga usually adapts itself to the culture it enters (like Chinese food, as yoga teacher, Mona Anand, says). But astangis from the US, europe, isreal, australia, japan, etc, all come together to practice as Jois has laid it out (see the videos in the last entry). That must be interesting. My friend Jamilya, in Kyrgyzstan, is very into Ashtanga. She went to Thailand for a retreat and training recently. You get the idea.

n.jugglingAshtangis aren’t hippies, for the most part (though Fred certainly is/was). Hector, who overlapped our stay for only a day before he went back to Colombo to pick up his visa for his return to India, is in real estate in Miami, and teaches vinyasa on the side. He told great stories about his kids, India, and life in general. Alberto and Nicolai were there almost our entire stay. Alberto is a serious ashtangi and a fine artist based in Paris. When he was in the mood to talk, he was quite funny and opinionated. He was known to take off on long ocean swims followed by juice and espressos at the Amanwella next door, and often did not return until after dinner started. Nicolai is a quiet German engineer who would wander off and juggle when the chatter became too much for him.

He had never done ashtanga before, but had taken many holidays at different yoga places in India, Sri Lanka, and elsewhere. He avoided going into town, but did so to get skirts and other gifts to take home for his daughter. He lives a 9-6 life (the only person we met there, I think, who did) in Germany and isn’t happy with it. He deals by taking vacations. Most of us know this doesn’t work (but haven’t figured out another way). Ben & Katrina are Brits who work in antiques. Ben bought a place on the beach a decade ago, and they holiday there whenever they can. We didn’t learn much about Stephanie other than she prefers to take local transport to Alberto’s private cars, likes a bit of exploration to Alberto’s beeline to the beach, and doesn’t look forward to trying to find a job in Paris when her money runs out. (There’s a theme building here.)

alberto_connectingThe characters at AshtangaLanka inspired me. It was wonderful. In the three weeks I squeezed away from work, teaching (2nd job), and training, I met people who reminded me that there are much, much more interesting ways to live a life. Maybe not easier, but much more alive. I realized how disconnected I feel, grinding my days away to put 56% of my primary income toward rent, running uptown and downtown, almost always too exhausted to give my best to what matters most, when I’m able to give anything at all.

March is the last month of the season in southern Sri Lanka. The rains come and the ocean gets too rough in April. As we were settling in, the others were leaving. After everyone else took off, it was only me, Andrea, Fred, Mira, and Cathy. With fewer stories to hear (over and over), a strange family dynamic developing, and no curtains on our open bungalow windows, we opted for some couple time. After ten days, we moved on and explored Sri Lanka. Thank heavens we did.

bungalow

 

ashtangalanka

by

Rocky Point is also called AshtangaLanka. Ashtanga is a type of hatha yoga (physical yoga) that draws a very dedicated following. I am not amongst them, but I do enjoy the practice.

Ashtanga is hard. Students come together in a school/room, called a shala, and do a series of poses. Instead of calling out the poses, the teacher individually instructs each student on the postures and the order they are done. When practiced this way, it’s called Mysore-style, after the city where guru Pattabhi Jois has his shala. Ashtanga is also practiced as a class (though not traditionally).

The series are memorized by daily practice, usually early morning, rather than reading about them or writing them down. As each student moves through the series at her/his own pace, the teacher walks around, teaches, and corrects. First the primary series is learned, and when that is mastered, the secondary, and so on.

Ashtanga was created by Krishnamacharya for his student, Pattabhi Jois (featured in youtube link above). Krishnamacharya taught the three Indians whose styles of hatha yoga have had the biggest impact internationally: P. Jois, B.K.S. Iyengar, and T.K.V. Desikachar.

krishnamacharya-162x300Many Ashtangis, including Jois, claim that the series of postures weren’t created by Krishnamacharya but are ancient and were outlined in the Yoga Korunta, which no longer exists. The lore is that this ancient text was written on palm leaves, and after Krishmacharya learned it, the leaves were eaten by ants (source: Enlighten Up!).

It’s argued by others that the system isn’t ancient at all, and that sun salutations were adapted from Indian martial tradition in the late 1800s, when the Hindu masculinity movement was strong (Joseph S. Alter, Yoga in Modern India).

I imagine the truth in somewhere in the middle. Yoga postures have been done for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. The seminal text on physical yoga is the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, written in the 15th Century, and texts on yoga as a classical philosophy existed before the Common Era. (Yoga is not simply physical postures and breathing exercises. This is only hatha yoga, a bit part of yoga, one of the six classical systems of Indian philosophy.) Edwin Bryant, a scholar of Yoga and Hinduism at Rutgers, believes that, “The origins of yoga are in primordial and mythic times.” I like this. Yet physical yoga as we know it, even the more traditional schools taught by Indian gurus who demand a certain orthodoxy, is certainly a very modern phenomenon.

Because of this orthodoxy and the intensity of the practice, Ashtanga attracts some interesting people. Ashtanga Lanka was founded by Fred Lewis, a once-hippie septuagenarian from California. He bought a guesthouse in Sri Lanka ten years ago and expanded it. About five years ago he added the shala (yoga room/school). He brings in a teacher when he’s there for the tourist season from November through March, and lives in California during the off-season.

Next: ashtangis and other guests

first night, first day at ashtangalanka

by

goo.RP.mapWe left home (NYC) at five on Tuesday morning and reached Tangalle around eleven Thursday night, after an unplanned but mostly refreshing day in London due to a mechanical problem and missed connection. Our first night in SL was a horror. There was no mosquito net on our bed at Rocky Point. I should say beds, really, as a double bed is something of a luxury in SL and at all but one of our accommodations (The Galle Face) we slept in two twin beds pushed together, under one not-quite-big-enough net. The beds were nowhere near the ceiling fan, which is not only meant to keep things cool, but to discourage mosquitoes. We were mauled. So many itchy bites. So hot. We got up and pushed the beds closer to the fan, which helped a very little bit. “I was more comfortable and slept better on the flights over,” I thought repeatedly. Ugh. We both wondered what on earth we’d gotten ourselves into.

nicolai.cocoAfter almost no sleep, we got up at 6:45a and walked over a few bungalows for ashtanga yoga. This was how we greeted the next 10 days. The hot and sweaty (demanding, hard, fun) practice somehow helped me recover from the sleepless night and our first full day in SL was amazing.

Our schedule at Rocky Point was beautiful. Its absence from my life makes it almost painful to recollect now that I’m back to the grindstone: We woke around 6:45am. Yoga from 7:30am to ~9am. After yoga, a quick shower, then a snack of fresh coconuts. First we drank the juice, then cracked open the shell and ate the flesh. “It’s delightful,” said the venerated coconut. We shared this ritual with the owners and other guests at Rocky Point, before heading to Silent Beach for a swim.

sanju.cocoBy 11:30a, we returned for breakfast. After a few days of trial and error, Andrea and I settled on the “Sri Lankan omelet” and the coconut pancake with treacle (kithul palm syrup), which we shared, with toast, jam, and two lovely bowls full of papaya, pineapple, banana, and mango. After breakfast, we sat, drank tea, chatted with other guests, read, and relaxed until three or four, when we prepared for a swim and surf at Palm Beach. This joy lasted until dusk, when we returned for dinner, usually an amazing spread of veggie Sri Lankan curries with rice. The bugs became unbearable by 7:30, so we were rarely outside past 8p. And because we’d moved the beds to be under the fan (which Samantha, the Sri Lankan manager, thought very wise), we were nowhere near the reading lamps, nailed to the wall by what had been the sides of the beds. They gave us a mosquito net, which somewhat solved the bug problem, but it was too dark to read in the room on the bed, under the protection of the net, and we couldn’t take more than an hour of the mosquito swatting required while seated on a chair under a lamp. We were usually asleep well before ten.

Next up: the yoga.

 

out of new york (please get me)

by

My biggest concern about Sri Lanka was that I wouldn’t come back refreshed. Instead, I’d come back, exhausted, to work and teaching, and to start another teacher training. Could I really fly for two days just for the beach? But if I travelled the hill country and Buddhist ruins on my own the last week (Andrea would travel later) it could be terribly tiring, and then the long flights home. Yet I couldn’t imagine going that far just for the beach, and ignoring the rest of the amazing country. Oh well. I’d decide when I got there, I figured. I needed a break, a break from work, from teaching, from my routine, and from NYC. And I wanted to be in the ocean with Andrea.

Rocky Point, Tangalle

Rocky Point, Tangalle

I raced to get everything ready in six days. On the flight I was relieved to be out of the city for a while. I’m so tired of New York. I’m not a hipster. I do not care. I hate the ubiquitous ads. I hate the weather. I hate the MTA (I used to love the subways, and of course, my bus drivers). I especially hate the ads on the outside of our subway cars. I hate the noise. I especially hate the noise my neighbors make, the noise of my neighbors on the train with ipods blaring and the noise of my tone-deaf, retired-pharmacist neighbor who has taken up the violin and asserts his legal right to hack at it between the hours of 8am and 10pm (“I know. I’ve been taken to court,” he once informed, at 7:56am on a Sunday).

But most of all, I hate the sameness of it. I’ve walked these streets so many times. Nothing feels new, nothing surprises. This might sound like sacrilege to some, and I realize I might be slamming the only place I’ll ever feel truly at home, but I need some space if I’m going to appreciate it again.

That wasn’t provided on the flight out. I think every movie on offer, and there were over 20, was based in New York and sought to glorify it in some way. Ugh! I watched one, and then a bit of a documentary about the French guy who tightrope-walked between the World Trade Center towers in the 70s. I’d heard him on “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” a few weeks earlier. Yes, you’re right. It’s my favorite show. Out of Chicago.

The situation was the same on the way back home. When I walked the streets of NYC via the tiny screen wedged into the seat in front of me on my crowded Kingfisher flight from Bangalore to London, I thought, “That place…that place looks like a great place to visit. But to live there? What a mess.”

Rani, at the Millennium Elephant Foundation, Kegalle, Sri Lanka

Rani, at the Millennium Elephant Foundation, Kegalle, Sri Lanka

Unfortunately, I think that about most places, including those I’d just visited.

I did rest a bit. And I traveled the hill country with Andrea (he left Silent Beach early to come with me), which was beautiful. The flight home was long and the jet-lag still lingers. And yes, I was back at work, teaching, and the full catastrophe within ten hours of my arrival. But Sri Lanka was amazing. It was a wonderful trip and I’m so glad I went. But I did come back still needing rest. How do we, why do we, all go on this way?

More to come.

{June 2009 update: Okay, I love NY. We have a strained relationship at times, but I love it. Could use a break, but yes, the love is real.}

sri lanka?

by

I have jet lag. And for some foggy-headed reason, I think that when and how much I’ve slept in the last four days is interesting to people. It is not. As if stories about the fabulous trip to Sri Lanka aren’t bad enough.

silent beach, tangalle, sri lanka

silent beach, tangalle, sri lanka

Sri Lanka? Why Sri Lanka? I just wanted some beach and a rest. But a few months ago when I passed a link from a british yoga marketing email on to Andrea, I had a small feeling there might be consequences. It was for a place called ashtanga lanka, on the beach in southern Sri Lanka. I passed it on because it boasted great bodysurfing, which is among Andrea’s true joys.

I’d have been happy with the Caribbean or South America. I’ve never been. I’ve been to Asia—central and south Asia—more than five times. Only once because I was truly aching to go there. Sri Lanka takes a long time to get to, isn’t an easy place, and has a huge time difference. And I’d only managed to wedge three weeks out of work and teaching, and another teacher training. Sri Lanka?

But Andrea was set. “The surf in the Caribbean and South America is dreadful,” he asserted. He got his tix, and I wanted to go. Ashtanga every morning before ocean swimming sounded great, and perhaps I could get some traveling in my last week there. I was also curious about the American couple running the place. I’m burning for another way to live. And, the food would delight me. Though it would perpetuate the untruth that I prefer to vacation in troubled places, I was somehow convinced. Seven days before the flight, I booked my tix. Once again, I didn’t choose South Asia, but she somehow got me back. Perhaps it’s time to stop blaming George.