Posted on

Teacher training: Rihanna and the ladyboys

You know how you can have too much of a good thing? I can hear you saying how you wouldn’t mind spending five weeks in a swanky resort in Thailand, jumping into the infinity pool when things get too stressful. But more recently between classes I’ve been retiring to my air conditioned room and collapsing on the bed. Thirty minutes later I can be heard muffling into my pillow, “Is it really time to move again?”

With only one more week to go, we’re tired and cabin fever has crept in. Now I don’t want you to think that I’m moaning but sometimes an escape is required. And that’s exactly what happened last night. After dinner, myself, Rachel (who loves musicals as much as me) and Pearl (previously described as Thai and huggy. This still applies.) bundled into Pearl’s car and zoomed off down the drive.

We made the ten-minute journey to Chaweng singing Rihanna at the top of our lungs. An hour earlier I’d led the group in chanting the Gayatri mantra. Versatility is a yogi’s middle name.

As we drove down the main drag of Chaweng I felt overwhelmed. Our cocoon is so sattvic – peaceful, healthy food, no alcohol, inoffensive lift music accompanying our mealtimes – wheareas Chaweng at night is brash and in your face.

Taxis and scooters vied for space on the road. We passed a McDonalds, a Burger King and a Haagen Das. The electricity cables for the entire street hanged precariously above us between lamposts. Bars and restaurants’ neon signs flashed uninvitingly and glamourous women encouraged Westerners to enter some seriously dodgy-looking clubs. Hang on a minute… those women are men! Ridiculously high heels, immaculate make-up, long toned legs and tiny sparkly dresses. They suggestively stroked their well-conditioned dark hair. They looked amazing. “This is Thailand baby!” says Pearl. “Everyone happy and welcome here!”

Western tourists looked all dolled up for a night on the town after a day in the sun. I was just looking for a massage after a day on the mat. I found a place and opted for a Thai massge with tiger balm. Now I don’t know if you’ve ever had a massage in Thailand but the little cubicle where you have your massage is a bit like being on a hospital ward. There’s a curtain around the raise platform and you can hear – but never see – what’s going on next door. This can be amusing. The other day I had an Aussie couple nearby:

Aussie lady to partner: ” Oh she’s wondering what the deal is with your mesh.”
Aussie man to Thai masseuse: “Ah it’s where a bit pops out?”
[Thai girl giggles]
Aussie man tries again: “Err do you understand ‘hernia’?”
[More giggles]
Aussie lady: “I don’t think she understands.”

I never had the chance to see their faces but I think I know more than enough about him.

So I had an hour of back cracking, gentle pummelling and I came out smelling like a pot of Vicks vaporub. It was great. After, I was sitting drinking my cup of herbal tea in the reception watching the female staff chatting with the receptionist. Lo and behold, one of the masseuses was a bloke, as was the receptionist. As I left, my masseuse was standing on the doorstep ready to say goodbye. I had a good look and she was definitely female.

The three of us drove home accompanied by Rihanna and I came back to find Catherine sitting in bed calling me a dirty old stop out. She’d spent the evening chatting on Skype and looking at the pictures of Prince Harry. We were in bed by 10pm but I just kept thinking about being under my umbrella-ella-ella-eh-eh-eh-eh.

Posted on

Teacher training: Yin Yoga

We’ve just finished five days of Yin Yoga with Yogi Nora and it’s been a funny old week.

The classes were great – two hours of complete bliss doing a handful of poses aimed at increasing our flexibility by holding for anything between three and 20 minutes.

In Yin, you use bolsters and blankets to feel supported and there’s little emphasis on alignment. The poses work on stretching the body’s tendons and ligaments and, by holding for extended periods of time, you’re safely working to open these connective tissues. You breathe through your abdomen and there’s no mention of mula bandha. It all felt much more familiar to me than the regimented exertion of Ashtanga. Nora warned us the practice was very deep – opening both physically and mentally and the experience was emotional for many of us. 

In the first afternoon session Nora talked about the principles behind the practice – one of which is about how you shouldn’t engage your muscles. This was totally at odds with the anatomy that the ninja Michelle Lam taught us a few weeks ago –  ie the only way to avoid injury is by engaging all your muscles as if your life depended on it. Many on the course have pre-existing injuries and were wary/sceptical of Nora’s teachings. This clip from Paul Grilley explains the theory of Yin well.

I was trying to stay open and positive as I was enjoying her classes despite her use of words such as “crotch” and “gut” and phrases including “you need to lift like a mother, man”. But maybe I’m being a reserved Brit.

As the week progressed, we played tag as we each taught different poses to the rest of the class. It’s a different ballgame when there’s little to say about alignment. Our goal was to keep students focused in the poses without letting them die, man. We read spiritual quotes, invented meditations, encouraged them to “let it all hang out” and “inhaling and then exhaling blurrrrghhh…blurrrghh…blurrrrghhhhhhh”. Drooling on the mat is totally ok in the world of Yin.

Yesterday, four of us missed her final class. Lovely Abu Dhabi Debbie’s stepmum died unexpectedly and Lucy was mugged by two guys on a scooter on the road outside the resort. The other two were visiting the chiropractor. Morale is quite low but Michel and Rosalyn have been marvellous offering hugs and support to those in need.

We ended our five-day week by Michel showing us the film Siddhartha, an Indian spiritual Ben Hur, and I loved it. Watch a trailer here:

Siddhartha eventually gains enlightenment working as a ferryman taking people across a river. Over breakfast today I discussed the film’s messages with Michel and he talked about how whichever way we try and row our boat, the current will always take us in the correct direction. We can go against the flow, but it’ll get us in the end. Things happen because they’re meant to happen and it’s what we learn from the experiences that’s important. We also discussed our love of cats and that was nice too.

Has anyone else done Yin? Any thoughts? I’d like to include Yin in my personal practice and teach it on my return home.

Posted on

Teacher training: Liquid/solid Acroyoga

Some time has passed since my last post and we’ve now survived three days of acroyoga and a day off. For anyone who’s unfamiliar with ‘Acro’ as those in the know call it, it’s some way between Cirque du Soleil and goofing (I’m spending too much time with Yanks) around in the school playground. Have a look at my photos on Flikr to see what we got up to, but suffice to say it was fun and at times a little scary.

I also enjoyed the partner/trust games we played. One was called ‘liquid/solid’ and one of us would strike a yoga pose and the other would do a pose that intermingled with it. For example, I would be in down dog whilst 6ft 3in Swedey Chris would be in up dog in the space underneath me. It got rather cosy when he tried to fill the miniscule spaces I made.

Thanks to Philip, liquid/solid is now also a term we’re using to describe our bowel movements but probably the less said about that, the better.

Have a look at my pics on Flickr but in the meantime, here’s two to give you a taster.

From left: Lucy, Mitch, me and the teacher Ariane. My main concern was the correct placement of my foot on Mitch…
One of Philip’s amazing handstands and Michel being a dafty.
Posted on

Teacher training: Madonna inspires Sanskrit chanting

An ashtanga class normally starts with an opening mantra chanted by the teacher. Michel’s been leading the chant each morning but he now wants us to take turns.

Mitch did a sterling job this morning and, as Michel gazed around the room looking for the next victim, his eyes met mine. “Clare, how do you fancy volunteering for tomorrow?” I wasn’t totally sure that that was how the concept of ‘volunteering’ worked but I dutifully accepted. I’m turning to youtube for help as Michel is certainly no Krishna Das (read a previous post about his chanting).

Anyway, I wanted to share these clips with you just so you can see what I’ve got to work with.

Guruji himself, Sri Pattabhi Jois, opens a class:

 

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…. some yogis tried to learn a Sanskrit chant. We also have the Star Wars version:

 

A nice, sensible karaoke version:

 

And finally, the Madonna version! I would so love to do this version tomorrow morning. I’m thinking backing singers, dancers, the full monty.. well erm, not quite the full monty. It might be a bit early for that sort of behaviour but we will be scantily clad. There’s no sign of baggy, loose fitting clothing here.

 

And I’m pretty sure I spotted a Madonna/Britney mash-up rajasic version in the search results somewhere…

Anyway, think of me tomorrow morning at about 7.30am Thai time. That’s 1.30am UK time. I expect you to set your alarms.

Posted on

Teacher training: The anatomy of a yogi

This week my teacher training has been all about bodies! I have certainly learnt a lot about my own.

Revelation of the week number 1:
First of all, at dinner the other evening I was sitting next to Laurie from Saint Louis, US. I was attempting to free a lychee from its red hairy casing by digging into it with my thumbs. “Oh my goodness! We have the same thumbs!” exclaimed Laurie.

Laurie and I with our thumbs
Laurie and I giving a thumbs up.

Now anyone who knows me will know about my ‘special’ thumbs. I’ve grown up with my loving father calling me ‘stumpy thumbs’. As a result, I’m on first name terms with most of the staff at Childline. But Laurie’s are even stumpier than mine. She tells me that our thumbs are technically called ‘toe thumbs’ and that there’s loads online about them. Even the Hollywood actress Megan Fox has them. Apparently one in every thousand people have them and girls are disproportionately affected.

Revelation of the week number 2:
This week we’ve had five days of Michelle Lam teaching us anatomy. She’s Hong Kong Chinese and must be about 4ft 10in. I feel like a giant next to her. When she gives you a private treatment session she turns into a ninja inflicting levels of pain that make you cry for your mum (according to Philip, an American grown man with too many injuries to name).

The learning experience has been very practical and we’ve all been demonstrating poses up in front of the class. Michelle then asks everyone what they see. The list has been endless: weak core strength, disengaged bandhas, wonky shoulders, pathetic muscles, flat feet, knock knees… total body assassination. And then the marker pens come out and you really are left black and blue.

Philip was observing the action of my sacrum by drawing dots on my lower back. He couldn’t work out what was going on. Michelle to the rescue… I have an unstable pelvis on both sides! Not a sacro-iliac problem as previously thought! This means I have very mobile hips and I have to engage my mula bandha and all my leg and buttock and abdominal muscles to stay stable. I also have incredibly tight hip flexors (psoas and iliacus). Lucky me.

Back bends – particularly sethu bandhasana (bridge) and urdva dhanurasana/chakrasana (wheel) – have been causing me pain this week and I’ve felt a bit fed up with my lower back, my sticky-out ballet dancer’s feet (I’ve never danced), and my externally rotated knees. But as big Michel says, who cares if you can’t do certain poses. We just have to deal with the body we’ve got at the moment. It’s not to say that we won’t be able to do those poses in the future. My damn ego’s getting in the way.

Revelation of the week number 3:
Doing my sun salutations in the morning, when I’m in down dog and then I jump through to bring my feet up to my hands, I’m managing to tear the skin on the bottom of my big toes. Some people make holes in their mats, I make holes in my feet. It’s due to a (current) lack of flexibility in my toe joints.

Natalie says to me, “Oh I used to do that! You need superglue!” For my mat?! “No, for your toes!” Cue a trip to 7 Eleven and it’s the best tip ever. Supergluing your skin is ingenious.

These are my bodily revelations from week two. As Michelle would say, the take-home messages are:
1) All the best people have stumpy thumbs
2) I have an unstable pelvis to rival Elvis
3) Ignore the packaging for superglue. It ain’t just for wood, metal and plastic.

Om shanti.

(Read about last week on my teacher training)

Posted on

Teacher training: one week down, four more to go!

Well I’ve survived my first week of my 500 hour teacher training. It hasn’t been easy and I’ve certainly been challenged. Here are some of the highlights/key points:

Michel Besnard
Think Clint Eastwood as he is now. But French. Mischievous blue eyes that glint when he’s being cheeky. According to Ayumu (Japanese, this is her second course with him), he’s currently being gentle with us. That’s a scary thought.

He’s a sucker for British comedy and loves Ricky Gervais and The Think of It. He quotes Fawlty Towers over breakfast and Allo Allo during class: [adopt French accent] “Leeeesen very carefoooly… I will say zis only wunce…”

As I’ve mentioned already, he seems to like prodding and slapping bottoms and probably rightly says that he’d get sued if he taught in the States. He has taught all over the world and spent years with Iyengar and Sri Pattabhi Jois. I’ve never met anyone as knowledgeable about yoga poses and he’s so humble. I think this is my favourite line of his so far: “Eeef anyone ever tries to keees ma feet, I tell dem to fack off.”

Rosalyn, his Chinese girlfriend and glamorous teaching assistant, is the bendiest person I’ve ever met. They’re a great double act.

Ashtanga
We’re being trained so that by the end of the course, we’ll go away with an Ashtanga self practice comprising the primary series with the odd bit of the second series thrown in to provide balance. We’re all at different levels. Some people, like me, have hardly done any Ashtanga whilst others would scare my Dad.

I’m learning that the practice is truly beautiful. It’s so graceful. I’m also now aware of the benefits of a Mysore style class. We all do the set poses in sequence at our own pace. Michel and Rosalyn walk around the room giving adjustments and reminding us of the next posture when we forget.

Learnings
I’ve learnt so much already and much is contradictory to Sivananda and other styles of yoga. As Michel says, we’ll do what he says for the next five weeks and then take away what we want – a lot of it makes a lot of sense though. Some of his teachings:

  • Mula bandha (pelvic floor to you and me): “Are you engaging your mula bandha?” If I had a Baht for every time I’ve heard that this week I’d be able to… erm… buy a banana.
  • Breathing into your abdomen? Forget it! How can you engage your mula bandha if you do that?!
  • Move the flesh away from your buttocks? That’s how you stretch your hamstrings beyond their capacity. Instead, roll the flesh away from your thighs, moving it upwards.
  • You think you know how to do Warrior I and II/Camel/Utkatasana/Sarvangasana/[insert name of almost any other pose]? You’re doing it wrong!!

It’s been a steep but amazing learning curve and we’ve all been put on the spot.

Utthita hasta padangustasana
Utthita hasta padangustasana (image from Yoga Journal)

The S.I. sisters
Lucy and I are in the special needs corner. Lucy is from Atlanta and enjoys DJ-ing when not teaching. Michel and Rosalyn are so astute. On day one they noticed that we both had problems with upward dog as we have sacro-iliac joint problems. We were given a modified practice. For sun salutations and vinyasa sequences we replace the troublesome dog with sphinx -> childs pose -> downward dog. We miss out utthita hasta padangustasana as we work our way through the standing poses. It’s about doing the poses in a way that suits your body and accepting ourselves as we currently are.

The resort
We’re very comfortable here with our air-con and our laundry service. I would probably go as far as to say that it feels a bit sterile and you could forget that you’re in Thailand. I haven’t seen one milipede.

But the pool and steam room are going down a treat after dinner most days. Chris (6ft 3in blonde haired, blue eyed Swede) has had his underwater camera out and we’ve been larking about practicing asanas in the pool. Another learning: no-one looks attractive in underwater photos.

Laughter yoga
We did this on the last day of the module with Michel. He  had us all going “haaaa haaaaa heee hee” whilst clapping at each other in a slightly demented fashion. Pearl (Thai and very huggy) clamped the sides of her face with her hands to prevent laughter lines/crow’s feet. Pearl was funnier than the laughter yoga.

The schedule
We’re in our Mysore class for 7am until 9.30am then we get an hour and 30 minutes for breakfast and a break. This week we’ve been spending the rest of the day with Michel but for the remainder of the course we’ll have the 11am – 1.30pm and the 3pm – 7pm sessions with different tutors. For the next five days it’s anatomy then we’ll have a day off.

Well that’s it for week one. My fellow students are all fab and bring their own thing to the table. Mitch for example is quite the linguist. He can speak Orcish and Elvish. This is a joke. Mitch, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry I started it. We’ll soon get bored of it… maybe by the final week.

I hope you’re all enjoying the Olympics. I should be at the athletics today but instead I’m here!

Posted on

Teacher training: absolute madness at Absolute Yoga, Koh Samui

We’re sitting crossed-legged on cushions listening to a tone deaf Frenchman and his bendy Chinese beauty chanting what I only know as Deva Premal’s Gate chant. 14 of us are listening intently trying to work out what tune we’re meant to be following. We all look at each other, a bit perplexed, stifling giggles.

Welcome to my 500 hour teacher training. Michel Besnard is 70 years of age and has studied with both Sri Pattabhi Jois and Iyengar. He tells tales of both masters whilst introducing us to the Ashtanga primary series. He’s already had me up in front of the class in Warrior I. I attempted to be grounded and steady whilst he bent down and slapped my inner thighs. “Tense! Tense these! They’re so floppy!”

Catherine my accomplice and buddy from the Sivananda Centre in London has had her buttocks made into a spectacle in front of us all. “What are you doing with this bottom?! Everyone look! What is she doing wrong?!”

I’ve never sweated so much in a class. It’s day two. We’ve got five weeks of this. By the end, I better have thighs of steel and let’s hope Catherine’s bottom behaves.

Posted on

Yoga and money: an emotive subject

It’s been so wonderful to spend almost two weeks at The Sanctuary but all good things must come to an end. As I jumped into a boat to take me back to Had Rin, my new found friends waved me off from the shallows on the beach. What a farewell. I’m now writing this waiting for a 50-minute ferry to Koh Samui where I’ll start a five-week 500 hour yoga training course with Absolute Yoga.

When I mentioned this course to people at The Sanctuary, it was very devisive. Some were intrigued and had heard good things about their training, others hadn’t heard of them, and some were very opinionated indeed.

Just by looking at the Absolute website, it’s clear to see that they’re very commercial. They have studios all over Thailand. The fact that I’ll be doing a module on ‘The Business of Yoga’ makes it as clear as day. I mentioned this to one of the yoga teachers at The Sanctuary and she went off on one about how she learnt to teach from an Indian Swami who refused to take any money from her. She thinks it’s terrible that a company in Germany now calls itself a ‘yoga company’ because it offers staff a class at lunchtime (I saw where she was coming from). It is certainly an emotive subject in yoga circles.

Now I wouldn’t say that I’m very commercially-minded and I have written about this before. I know the basics having working in marketing but I completed my first teacher training at an ashram in the Himalayas. I know a bit about where it all comes from and the intention behind it – I love it all and I try to be a bit yogic in my approach to life.

I don’t know if I’ll teach full time on my return to the UK but what I do know is that I’d rather not be out of pocket having taught a class to eager, stressed Londoners. If I pick up a few tips from that particular module then that’s great.

I’m also really looking forward to Carlos Pomeda’s module on yoga philosophy, having taken a workshop with him in London a few years ago. He is a totally inspiring and engaging speaker.

Right, well the ferry’s leaving in an hour and I fancy a pad thai. I’ll keep you posted about the course.

What do you guys think about making money from yoga? Is it a possible job or would you rather not rely on it to pay your bills?

Posted on

The creatures seeking Sanctuary

I’m going to take you through a typical day at The Sanctuary, Koh Phang An, but with a particular emphasis on the beings that I often meet along the way.

7.25: Alarm goes off and I emerge from under the mosquito net in my bungalow. Before my feet touch the rug on the floor, I quickly scan the floorboards checking that no creepies have snuck in through the little cracks between the floorboards that let in the sunlight and show the grass below.

I get showered and dressed for yoga. I open the front door and almost immediately I can hear Linguine, the black and white cat miaowing. He appears from behind the bushes and strolls up to my bungalow. As bold as brass, he jumps up the three concrete steps up to my balcony and tries to walk into my room. I stand blocking him at the doorway, shooing him and telling the Thai cat “no” in English. I turn my back and he’s inside collapsed by the steps that lead down to the bathroom. “Get out!” I say. “Let me flop here like my namesake. I won’t be a nuisance,” he replies in cat Thai (I’m a fast learner of languages).

I don’t want to catch Thai cat lurgies but I want him out before I leave for class. I wrap the rug around him and push him towards the door. He stays in his exact slumped, deadweight position as I deposit him under the hammock on my balcony. “Why are you being so mean?” he asks as I lock the door and leave for my class.

I walk up the stone steps to the Buddha Hall, passing little ponds containing lush green water plants and black fish. In the undergrowth there’s Ganesha statues and the occasional Buddha.

8am: Yogi Simon teaches the flow yoga class. We do some Ashtanga sun salutations and he likes making us sit cross-legged with our arms straight up in the air. Shoulders relaxed and away from our ears, fingers outstretched, bottom ribs tucked in. “It’s good for you,” he says in his clipped South African accent with his bronzed torso on show. I find myself wondering whether his slightly odd line tattoos have any significance… FOCUS!

9.30am: After class, shiny black millipedes scurry along the footpath obviously on important business. This morning, Julie (Austrian, Sivananda-loving, barmy, Hindi-speaking, ex-air cabin crew) and I discussed whether they’re millipedes or centipedes. She thinks they have more than 100 legs but less than 1000. We settled on selling them ‘twohundredandfiftypedes’.

Myself, Julie, Matieu (French, Bikram boy, big smile and big curly black hair, soon to be covering for Simba in the West End’s Lion King) and Aurore (French, also smiley, likes reading, LOVES yoga) sit having smoothies and discuss yoga whilst swiping at the mosquitoes who are also hungry for their first meal.

From left: Aurore, me, Mathieu and Julie.

I spend time sitting in a hammock under the palms on the beach reading. I might swim out to the platform and lie gazing into the see-through sea watching the Nemo clownfish dart about below. Matieu will probably be on the hammock on the platform. He’s never off the thing. We only get out when our fingers are pruney.

I might go to a talk at the Tea Temple. Yesterday’s was on Ayurveda and the Five Elements. Maybe I’m an Earth person with a touch of Fire. Throw is some of the restaurant’s healthy baked beans and I may become that popular 70’s soul band…

I might go to the 4.15 Yin Yoga class. Spend ten minutes lying on my back in a twist resisting the overwhelming temptation to fall asleep.

6/7ish: back to room, shower. Marvel at the tiny black ants on my bathroom wall, scurrying along an invisible path. They’ll be gone later but back tomorrow. What are they up to?

Dinner with yogi pals. Matieu uses his highly honed navigational skills to get us lost searching for a restaurant over the hill. The explorers emerge from the jungle and secure a spot sitting on a platform on top of a rock with views of the stars and the bay below. We eat by lantern light.

There’s a weekly film night where people lounge in the beach bar on cushions, and last night was the open mic night. Who’d have thought that ‘Ain’t nobody’ by Chaka Khan could sound so good accompanied by didgeridoo.

Then soon to bed. Tuck mozzie net in round bed and the fun really starts. Scrabbly noises in the dark… later there’s a repetitive two-tone noise that’s high then low: a huge gecko lizard. Claire from London (yes, there’s two of us. She’s from Crouch End) says they sound like they’re saying their name: GEH koooooh…. GEH koooooh. The crickets and cicadas join in too. And I fall asleep – well, at least until the gecko starts up again.

Have you been to The Sanctuary? What are your memories? Or perhaps reading this has whet your appetite. Feel free to comment below.

Oh and TTC buddies – you may spot a familiar face on the homepage of The Sanctuary website. Watch the slideshow.