Indian tales: Plain sailing trains and automobiles?

I’m in Goa for Christmas and New Year with my sister Katharine. We’re spending time on the beach and doing some yoga.

For the first five days, we’ve been in southern Goa in Patnem. I’ve been to a few yoga classes and hung out with some friends from home.

Today we left for North Goa, Mandrem to be precise. Both Katharine and I know that train journeys are always an experience and it felt time to get in touch with the real India – away from the British families and the music of Amy Winehouse and Bob Marley that we’d been hearing incessantly. The day proved to be a true Indian journey in every sense.

The plan was to get a taxi for an hour to Madgaon station – the main train station in Goa – and then get a train north to Pernem. From there, it was a short hop and a skip to Mandrem.

Trains
We were told that there was a train from Madgaon at 2:40pm. This was backed up by the internet.

We arrived at Madgaon station and got in the queue for tickets. Almost instantly I had to tell a bloke to get behind us as he tried to queue jump. For the next 30 minutes he pressed his body up against my rucksack on my back and complained that we were leaving too much of a gap in front of us. Indian men have no sense of personal space.

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(Ticket office. It looks quite calm in a photo. It wasn’t.)

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(Katharine on the platform)

A young girl was ahead of us in the queue. She had a beaming smile and big brown eyes. She asked us where we were from and made polite conversation in impeccable Indian English.

Men queue jumped ahead of us. Sweat trickled down my legs and arms. People shouted and gesticulated. And then we were at the counter. Katharine got jostled out of the way and suddenly all these hands holding filthy dog-eared rupee notes forcefully pushed their way under my arms, over my shoulders and through the tiny hole in the grubby perspex to the cashier.

Whoever was the loudest appeared to get served next. “Two for Pernem” I said in my biggest voice. By the fourth time I’d said it, I had her attention.

“Madam, train is at 6pm.”
“There’s a train at 2:40!”
“No madam, 6pm. Come back later.”

And with that, I was consumed by the crowd and found myself cast aside. Buggery bugger. We double checked at the information counter (more jostling). 6pm it was. The young girl found us and stood nearby while we discussed our options.

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(Madgaon station ‘rogues gallery’. I’d like to start a campaign to get one of these at Harpenden station.)

Automobiles
Cheated of our train journey, we found ourselves in the queue for the prepaid taxis. The board said that the fare was the equivalent of £15. Our train tickets would have been 30p each. We grumbled.

Again we were at a counter.

“We want to go to Madrem.”
“1750 rupees.”
“But the board says 1500 rupees.”
“Diversion for a festival. It will take longer. The price is 1750 rupees.”

We said we wanted to pay the board price. They stood their ground. We stood our ground. The locals joined in. Why do they always do that?

We begrudgingly accepted and got shown to our taxi. We questioned our poor elderly taxi driver. I’ve never seen such pronounced cheek bones in my life. I don’t think he was in possession of his teeth. He didn’t know of any diversion. Everything seemed to confuse him.

The faff continued. We gave in and off we drove.

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Plain sailing
There is always a part of me that mistrusts these exchanges. Are they trying to get the better of us naive foreigners? You hear of so many scams that it makes you sceptical.

I remember turning up jetlagged at chaotic Delhi station about ten years ago with my dad to be told by an ‘official’ that our train was cancelled and we needed to give him our tickets. He was lying and we knew it.

Travelling around India on public transport is tiring and often doesn’t go according to plan but it’s also the most rewarding part of visiting the country. In Goa it’s easy to remain in your beach resort eating chips. Or you jump in a taxi and stay in your own little cocoon.

I’d still say that I love train travel in India. Chatting to families on platforms, sharing snacks with locals in your carriage, asking the chai wallah for a cup of that boiling sweetness, watching the vibrant countryside slide by hour after hour. Yes the toilet might be a hole in the floor through which you can see the speeding tracks below, but believe me, these are the magical moments.

This country has me under its spell. It teaches you patience and acceptance and tests you every day. Don’t ask me why but I love it.

Have you been to India? Any of this sound familiar? Or maybe I’ve made you think that this country isn’t for you. Feel free to comment below.

Sweaty Betties

A few months ago I was asked if I’d like to do an hour of yoga in the new Sweaty Betty St Albans shop on the day of the opening. I didn’t say yes immediately as various thoughts were going through my head. I felt torn and here’s why:

4 reasons AGAINST doing yoga in Sweaty Betty St Albans

1. The practice of yoga is about reducing your ego i.e. that sense of ‘I’ and the self. We associate ourselves with everything that’s about the ego – for example: what we look like, what job we do and how we behave.  By practising aspects of yoga – the physical asana practice, chanting mantras, and doing selfless service (doing things without an expectation of reward) – we are reducing our ego and connecting with our inner nature i.e. who we really are.

Surely doing yoga in the middle of a shop is simply drawing attention to yourself and boosting that sense of self, fuelling the ego.

“Always watch that ego. Control of the mind and annihilation of the ego are the essence of all yoga disciplines.”

Swami Vishnudevananda

2. Linked to this, humility is the greatest quality for a yoga teacher. As a yoga teacher, it’s about passing on the teachings you’ve received in a humble way and your focus is on your students, ensuring you give them your energy and attention.

You could say that ‘performing’ yoga whilst being surrounded by gawping onlookers instead of students isn’t very humble.

3. Sweaty Betty can be seen as commercial. It’s a business – a successful one – and it makes a lot of money. Indeed, I was reading an article the other day about how they’re starting to give Lululemon a run for their money having opened their first stores in the US.

Should yoga be about making money? It’s a debate that’s been had time and time again. The ancient physical practice of yoga postures in India came about as a way of preparing your body for long periods of seated meditation. It’s really only since the West has got hold of yoga that the physical practice has become what it is today and it’s much more commercial as a result.

4. When you practice yoga, it shouldn’t be about what clothes you wear. This has been drilled into me from my Sivananda background where you wear the baggiest clothes ever and anything goes. Branded clothes are yet another way of increasing our sense of ‘self’. What do those clothes say about us?

However, I must say that now that I practice more ashtanga, clothes are much more important. You get pretty hot and you want that sweat to be taken away from your body quickly. I’ve learnt that technical clothes have their benefits.

4 reasons FOR doing yoga in Sweaty Betty St Albans

1. It’s a chance to meet new local yogis. I have my familiar places where I like to practice. It’s a chance to meet other people who are into the same things.

2. Taking me out of my comfort zone, trying something new, practicing in a new location… I might find it challenging in different ways. I might learn something as a result. We can get stuck in a rut with our practice.

3. You get given free clothes. I know, I know, they give you the free clothes so you’ll wear them when you teach and then students will say, “Ooooh that’s nice. Where’s that top/those leggings/jumper from?” But you know, their clothes feel nice, they’re flattering and yes, I like clothes. So shoot me. Ok, don’t really shoot me. That would be violent and yoga isn’t big on that. You can see that I still have some way to go on the whole ego front.

4. Finally, it takes yoga to new audiences. If you saw someone doing sun salutations for the first time, you might stop and watch. You might not have expected to see such a thing whilst you’re having your normal Saturday morning wander around the shops.

It might encourage you to find out more about yoga. It might even make you go to a class.  Yes, it would be great if it was one of my classes but I’d be happy if was any local class.

It’s about raising the profile of yoga. The more people that practice, the more the world will be a happier and healthier place.

And so I did it.

Doing yoga at Sweaty Betty St Albans

Shop front and me in window
How much is that pindasana in the window? The one with the downward-moving tailbone.

From 11-12am on Saturday I found myself on a yoga mat in the window of a shop. It was weird and it was fun.

Sun salutations were interesting as you couldn’t stretch your arms out to the sides as you’d simultaneously hit the glass and take someone’s eye out. At times I felt I was showing the shoppers of St Albans a little too much of my bottom.

I did an hour of ashtanga primary series. In ashtanga there’s talk of ‘drishti’ – where you look during each pose. It might be towards the tip of your nose, your knees, or elsewhere on your body. Also there’s the practice of ‘pratyahara’ – withdrawing your senses and going more inward. I tried to keep both practices in mind during the hour. It was hard.

At one point I noticed an elderly couple standing watching on the pavement. Then there were families with children, and teenagers taking photos on their phones. Drishti… pratyahara… drishti.

I thought about those new audiences. Those new potential yogis in the waiting.

It felt great to share the practice with people who weren’t familiar with it. The staff at the shop were lovely and I was made to feel very welcome. I saw some familiar faces and I met

some new ones too. I was aware of my ego and tried to keep it in check throughout. I was

Urdhva Padmasana - part of the ashtanga finishing sequence
Urdhva Padmasana – part of the ashtanga finishing sequence. Images thanks to Sweaty Betty.

just doing my practice.

I (and my yogi friend April) might even be doing some guest instructor things there next year so keep an eye out.

Would I do yoga in a Sweaty Betty shop window again?

Yes I would. I’m all up for having a bit of fun and trying something new. And you know, if I wasn’t up for trying something new, I’d never be teaching yoga.

 

What do you think about this? Would you have done it or would you have run the other way? All comments are valid…