Kerala - Day 5

We had our third yoga class this morning. Still haven't done any yoga. Last night, I asked my roommate if she thought I could wear my muumuu* to yoga. She said, "Probably. Every morning we have class, I put on my yoga gear thinking we're going to do yoga. I don't know why I keep doing it." It was more class and less yoga. Still love it. It goes something like this: he talks about what we're going to go over in class for the first half of class, he tells us to relax while he changes into his yoga clothes (shorts and a t-shirt), he tells us about a pose, asks if anyone knows it, makes them do it, occasionally does a pose or two himself, does this for four or five more poses, asks us how long we have with about five minutes left, tells us he'll show us "selected asanas to maintain the general health of the body and mind" the next time we meet and closes class. Quote of the day from class: "Fritz Perls defined maturity as transcendence from environmental support to self-support. Yoga matures you."

Our morning lecture was about Udwartana or dry powder massage. We had to wear masks and hair caps for the practical portion of the lecture so the powder wouldn't get into our hair and lungs. It's a vigorous massage and not relaxing by design. It stimulates catabolism (breaking down of cells), rather than anabolism like a relaxing massage would.

We were done a little early, so Monica and I decided to take a little walk around the neighborhood. Dr. Shekhar said we had to be crazy going for a walk at that time. He was right. It was too hot and I spent the reat of the afternoon trying to cool off -- on the floor, in the hammock.


Our afternoon session was Abhyanga review. I worked up a sweat practicing the sequence, so it was hammock time again once we got back from the beach hut. We had a very nice dinner cooked by the wife of the main doctor here. There was much rejoicing. People have not been digging the food. (I didn't mind it, but I did welcome the variety of a new chef.) She did not disappoint.

* The first day we were here, a lady came around selling dresses. A European woman who had been staying here a while before we got here was wearing one and said she loved it. They are very muumuu-esque, cotton, come in brightly colored patterns and cost Rs. 130 (about $3) each. By day four, almost all of us had purchased at least one. I'm practically living in mine. The locals laugh at us when we walk to and from the beach hut in our muumuus because they are actually "nighties" and not meant to be worn outside the house.