Middle Seat Passenger

Blissful Bali & Boobs out!

Well I can honestly say my Indian meditative state has long gone, more the pity. Waiting in a coffee shop with the thought of updating my travels in a peaceful, calm environment – there’s babies screeching, a vicar with no volume control and how long does it take to make a latte??? told you the calmness is long gone…anyway I’m staying put! Time to update Bali…

Off we go again, thanks to good old Trailfinders and their special offers…Bali here we come (well providing we don’t get shot out of the sky or just go missing) I’m thinking that the Malaysia Air flights were giving discounts for a reason!

Anyway, as you do, when you get bored of your own book, newspaper, film on the flight you start looking over other peoples shoulders in the seats opposite and reading their texts, laptops – oooh happy days someone is playing a picture = word game however, after 10 minutes of this man staring at a 4 leaf clover and having the letters UCKLMF and putting: MLUK…LCFU…ULCK… it took all of my calm yogic breath not to jump out of my seat and use the F instead of the L just so we could just move onto the next picture!

Now you might think that its just me that spends time watching other people and what they are doing but apparently not, some woman on her way back from the toilet stopped and said “can I just watch your TV?” and shoved her head in front of Richards then did a “humpf” of disappointment and walked off…we’re on a flight of thick, nosey people (yes I include myself in that).

Arriving at the hotel the place is swarming with Police & here we were thinking it was going to be the flight that was going to be the iffy part of the journey. Low & behold the hotel has the Annual Interpol convention so we’re either in the safest place in Bali or at the highest risk of being blown to pieces! It’s sunny who cares!

Taking a little wander around the area there’s lots of “go to the roundabout with the dancers on then turn left at the cow” it couldn’t be further from home which at a push theirs some daffodils & the odd Christmas tree that the council haven’t bothered to move. Now, it’s a standing joke that I’m always looking for my £1 on the floor as I walk but it definitely helps here due to the huge holes in the pavements and missing manhole covers, which, if you were staring at the dancers on the roundabouts you’d be down a hole before you know it.

After a little persuasion, as the diving has been described as “not of beginners” and bearing in mind I didn’t like putting my head under the water only 12 months ago off we go. Ok, so we expected basic’ish but this is a seriously small boat so they set all of your equipment otherwise it would be “man overboard” if everyone tried to move around. It was at this point Richard decided to tell me he didn’t have any swimwear with him so there he is trying to squeeze himself into his wetsuit whilst the boat bobs up & down and I hold a towel around him…it’s a sight not to see. It’s all a bit of a rush into the water, my tank keeps banging me on the back of the head (as you can imagine…not that comfortable with that) and Richard has very rosey cheeks, I put it down to the fact that we were doing a drift dive but they are making us swim against the current – no, I have no idea why that was? It all becomes apparent when they shoehorn us back onto the boat and they say ‘we think we gave you the wrong kit…you have each others” no wonder Richards head was nearly purple with my BCD on. When we got back on shore Richard gave up trying to be modest, off came the wetsuit on the beach, thankfully I threw him the towel before he had to bend down for it…the man has no shame!

Returning to the hotel, Richards complaining of water trapped in his ear and those fateful words come out of his mouth “do you have anything that can sort this out?” me being Mary Poppins goes to the bottomless toiletry bag…I have drops that should dry it up. Good…sorted. Then he says “these drops are running back out of my ear, can you put some cotton wool in?” back to the Mary Poppins bag muttering to myself “cotton wool, cotton wool..who the hell takes cotton wool on holiday…mmm this will do” so I shout “yes sorted on my way”. So there he is chilling on the balcony, head tilted to one side, drops staying put oblivious to the fact that he has a tampon sticking out of his ear…ok I have no shame either!

Escaping Interpol for another day and off to Ubud, the place where backpackers decide that they have to look like hippies and by all accounts soap and water are optional, a couple of uncovered manholes wouldn’t go amiss here just to freshen the air from them or to take a few of them out! As its a more touristy area it also comes with all the “looky looky” crap, my favourite being the misspelled football tops, unless that is, David Beckham has changed his name to David Beacham & is now being sponsored by coughs & colds.

Off to the Monkey Forest &, I know its childish, but it still make me giggle when you see one as proud a punch having a wank (2 hands as well – impressive!).

Time to chill, with the lovely relaxing words of “lets go and get a massage” so we find the one place that looks least like a knocking shop and go in…”yes we can do couples massage in the same room” they reply as they quickly drag another massage bed in front of the window with just enough room to squeeze between it and their net curtains. As we go in they say “you can leave your underwear on or we have some”…thanks but i’ll keep my own knickers on rather than getting any of yours out of lost property.

Now, doing massage myself, it’s quite obvious when someone’s not too sure what they are doing – even in a language I don’t understand I could tell that the therapist massaging Richard was telling my “trainee” what she should be doing, with varying degrees of success. You may or may not know what I’m like for not having boobs out on display but every time she walked passed the bed her arse either pulled back the towel or the net curtains, she then couldn’t quite work out where to put the bottle of massage oil down so where else? thats right she wedged it between my thighs.

As Richard’s having his lovely relaxing massage by an experienced therapist there I am net curtains now wide open to the street, one boob hanging out, with a massage bottle clenched between my thighs and just as I turn my head I see their disposable pants rolled up on the pillow like a small black vibrator which is now resting on my cheek! How do I end up in these situations????

It would be safe to say, “at least when your back in the hotel its relaxing” I’ll not bore you with all of the details but we have lost count of how many rooms we’ve had.

1st one – view of a brick wall.

2nd one – view of a smaller brick wall, patch of grass and mobility scooters (I’m thinking they weren’t Interpol’s getaway vehicles).

3rd one – lovely maisonette, until the Mother of all storms arrived and a waterfall decided to appear down the bedroom wall, at one point we could have done with a light & a whistle.

4th one – the one we said “who would pay that much for a room just so you have your own pool” Result…got that one by default!

All being said, Bali you have been blissful even if my boobs have been out on display!

Debbie Mcgee & Dettol wipes

Well it’s touring time again and off to the South of France in our new “Dora the Explorer” caravan, bought so that the soundtrack of the trip wouldn’t be Richard shouting “For F**ks Sake” every time he bashed his knees or toes on cupboards or the corner of the bed. So, Dora is 8 inches wider and 1 metre longer…Thats never going to cause any problems is it???

Onto the ferry to St. Malo, only a 12 hour crossing but its unbelievable how much crap entertainment they can manage to squeeze into one short evening. Firstly, the singer in her obligatory spangly top and fake leather trousers whooping and cheering herself along encouraging the audience to do any actions to match her songs and only succeeding with one small child hyper on coke sliding on his knees across the dance floor…someone please just throw me overboard now!

Then the magician…where do I start? after prizing two volunteers from the audience (I say that in the loosest sense of the word) he starts his card trick, counting 10 cards into the first ones hand and the same number into the second one, except for the fact it was blatantly obvious that he’d taken 3 cards from the first pile and put them in the other. He then spent the next 10 minutes pretending to magically & invisibly transport them from one person to the other…low and behold at the end of the painful arm waving there was 13 in one pile and 7 in the other! Now this has nothing to do with my brief past life as Debbie McGee (I was more guinea pig than magicians assistant) that I could work it out, even the man at the back of the room with the Labrador could see what was going on. Time to call it a night!

And so off to St. Malo, a beautiful walled city where, like a lot of France, there is very little English spoken (oh how I wish my French for beginners course hadn’t been cancelled) so the trusty French phrasebook it is, sneakily taking a glance at it when Richard’s not looking. So when the waiter arrived after our meal I could blurt out “excuse moi monsieur l’addition s’il vous plait” to get the reply “oui Madame” very quickly followed by Richard saying “where the hell did that come from?” How smug do I feel?…it didn’t last long.

As we leave St. Malo for the long trip to Narbonne its mainly motorways, toll booths and rest stops (imagine the distance from Scotland to Brighton). Now, being stuck in the middle lane of the motorway with an extra wide van is no picnic and squeezing through the toll booths must have been too much for my “not so” bilingual brain because when we were stuck there, as the toll ticket kept spitting itself back out at me, I had to press the assistance button. The voice from the concrete post said “Allo” and the words “sprechen sie Deutsch?” came out of my mouth! I just took one look at Richard he was shaking his head in disbelief saying “you know, sometimes it’s like I’m with someone from Mensa and other times its Forrest Gump!” I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended by the comment…I’m going with flattered…I like Forrest Gump!

Eventually arriving at Narbonne and now the extra long caravan is the challenge, its ok I’ll tuck it right in beside the bushes and under the tree…not such a wise decision as it happens.

12.45am – I was awoken from a lovely dream by an almighty clatter which sounded like someone breaking into the caravan, I had a quick look through the van in my bleary “no glasses” eyes then peered outside to see the seats and table all blown over, so time to get up, fold everything up and pop it under Dora for safe keeping…that will be fine now. Oh no, for the next hour I slept with my hands over my ears with the most irritating noise so 2.15am, Richards awake and we’re taking the awning down (I might add this is the first time he’d woken up!). It must have been that squeaking on the side of the van…Great all sorted now. Alas not…2.45am after realising that it was actually the tree I’d oh so carefully squeezed the van under earlier that day that is banging on the roof I’m out again, wedged between the bushes hanging from a branch trying to bend it away from the caravan so that I can at least get a few hours sleep whilst Rip Van Winkle is peacefully oblivious to the goings on outside…All sorted!

And so to Martigues, a day of non-stop sunshine so off to the pool we go (just as a side note in France lots of places insist on “proper” swimwear for men – so it’s budgie smugglers as far as the eye can see) after a while I wonder where Richard has gone to – he has a habit of wandering – then I see him, head bobbing and hands waving to his music wandering around the pool, ahh bless him, then it dawns on me if he’s waving his hands where’s the Ipod? just as he turns around and I see it wedged in the crack of his arse! That’ll be the dettol wipes out when we get back then!

Oh great, the gale force wind is back – but not ones to let it put us off, we’re staying put at the pool, that is until I see Richards shoes fly past me, followed by his glasses, followed by his hat, followed by a small child on a lilo (I am serious) it was the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages, it was like a really bad version of the Generation Game. I’m allowed to laugh it only landed on the concrete its not like it flew over the fence and down the cliff! I so wish I’d been quicker to get a picture.

Maybe time to move onto somewhere less windy…

Au revoir for now

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Dairy Milk & Dog piss!

Ok, so here we are we’ve finally reached our last few days of what now feels like a whirlwind 4 weeks.

Even though the last 20 minutes of the recent meditations have been spent listening for the crunch of the stones on that bloody hill telling us that the chai man is on his way with biscuits and bananas it’s been worth sitting there every moment.
So, for the last couple of meditations Sudhir has passed the baton over to the other teachers, right up until the very last day I have tried to do the meditation thing and our last 2 were very different.

Henrik, to be honest I might have had a sneaky 40 winks in yours but that was only because you let us lie down.
Rowie, ahh what can I say? Well quite a bit as it happens. So here starts our very last meditation, starts like any other regular morning meditation…sit quietly…focus and look within…then it changed. She said “place your hands in your lap, palms facing up and I’m going to put something in your hands”, as Sam was coughing her guts up next to me, normally due to the burning shit everyday (I do literally mean that, shite, left over food, tyres, pretty much anything they can lay their hands on they burn all day, everyday) this trip hasn’t done her lungs any good. Anyway, I think she was hoping for a cough sweet or some kind of horse tranquilliser just to knock her out once and for all – Alas not so lucky.
We were then told to keep our eyes closed and feel it…she’s given us rabbit shit – all I could think of was where the hell has she found this, I’ve never seen any – unless it’s from the rats or the squirrels? Then she said ” can you feel how dry and wrinkly it is” Seriously, have you been speaking to Blossom and this is her subtle hint to go for that bloody facial again?
Then it twigged – it’s raisins/sultanas, I swear Rowie if you don’t pull out a Dairy Milk and some nuts next out of your bag I’m going to be bitterly disappointed – then taste it – sorry still could get the rat shit out of my brain – then taste another – Rowie I love you, but 1 is more than enough when all you can picture is you picking them up off the side of the road…I know she didn’t but once your brain is there it’s hard to switch it off – Oooooohhhhh Chai Man!

Working progress this meditation thing!

So to the final couple of days and it was our turn to teach each other for one last time, yep glossing over this stage as you’re always tougher on yourself as to how you’ve performed and not great at taking any kind of compliments.
Needless to say the girls in my group were amazing, Armelle – my right leg will never be the same!
And Micha it took all of my powers not to have a little bit of an old lady wee holding my laugh in when you said, in your beautiful Czech accent, “Hold still your focus”, I could have sworn you said “Hold still you Fockers” and then every time you said it I had to clench a little more.

Just one last stage – final test and feedback form, a few more people are leaving with carpal tunnel after filling in the feedback form…you have no idea – it took longer than the test!

Yippee, all done and the last couple of hours on the beach before graduation and home time and just as I was settling down a lovely little dog decided to sit next to me and then had a wee right next to my towel, I swear he even looked at me and smiled.
So, my lasting memories of Agonda beach are beautiful white sand, warm sea and the very present whiff of piss.

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Our last evening was graduation (yep I even passed the final exam even though my brain is at saturation point and realised that I can no longer spell the most simplest of words), pictures on the beach, farewell dinner and a few mojitos to say a fond farewell.

So looking back, what will I miss?
The breathtaking sunsets, sharing the beach with cows, dogs, horses and monkeys and thinking that’s normal, sitting on my veranda writing these blogs, the challenge that each day brings and last but not least the friends I have made, we’ve laughed (a lot), cried, rolled our eyes at each other, learnt from each other and been taught by amazing teachers.

What I won’t miss
Mutant mosquitos, power cuts, haggling (completely done with that now), washing my clothes in a bin and lack of pavements even a piece of road without cow shit on would have been good.

So just when you think the madness is all over, as you’re heading home and transiting through Doha airport, Karma gets involved and it was most definitely working in my favour (or so I thought). Arriving at the lounge the lovely lady said “I’m sorry the transit lounge is full would it be ok if you go to the first class lounge instead”, don’t mind if I do!

You see the World is round!

However, sometimes you live to regret these decisions because within 30 minutes someone had sat opposite me told me that the earth is probably not round, maybe oblong or some other shape, George Bush should be shot, David Ike knew what he was talking about, the pyramids were built with help from people from the future and how you shouldn’t wash your skin just your private bits! That was a lot of information to take in less time than it took me to eat a croissant and have a coffee – Karma can be a bitch sometimes.

I should have stayed with Pudsey and the arsehole slide man! Time to leave!

Bet you thought I’d forgotten – how could I?

As some of you know philosophy and spiritual teaching isn’t really my bag and I can’t even say after a month that has changed, however, that being said the philosophy lessons have been invaluable on a personal level, just to reflect inwards to look at your reactions to situations and the priorities you place on what sometimes are mindless things (I really wanted to say shite but I’m trying to be more mindful).

Finally, to sum up…a quote from our Sudhir:
“Human qualities are more important than knowledge, if you want to be an excellent teacher be an excellent human being”

Who needs Google Guru when we have him.

Sudhir – you have made perfect sense x

For one final time, Namaste x

Speed bumps & Butt cracks

And so as we come to our final full week I think the cleaning staff may know something we don’t by the number of toilet rolls they have left in the bathroom, so as none of us were at the point where we needed to be within a 50 metre sprint to a toilet, a trip to Palolem it was. After bartering over 50p (yes I’m so over haggling) we shoe horned ourselves into the Tuk tuk – now remember there are no real rules to driving here and I swear these drivers see the speed bumps more like ski jumps, it’s just as well you’re wedged together so no-one disappears out of the window as they fly along the road.

Arriving, at what was my last place of Goan heaven “peaceful Palolem” – not so now – really we should have listened to Sudhir when he said “you go to Palolem and it is so busy, so noisy and too many Indians” so after narrowly being kneecapped by a man carrying a concrete pillar crossways across his moped and a bird shitting right in the middle of my flip flop I thinks it definitely time to head back to serene Agonda, and what else to do on a sunny Sunday afternoon except lie on the sand watching a beach full of people doing yoga poses shouting “quick take my picture for Instagram”. The highlight being one group trying, and failing miserably, to spell out YOGA with their bodies – seriously, they ended up looking like a dyslexic version of YMCA.

Anyway as we started the new week poor Rowie had to contend with the Monday morning faces in yoga practice, luckily there wasn’t a marker pen handy or I think there would have been more than a few foreheads with F*** This written across it but, as always, you forget after a little while that you’re knackered and go with the flow.

And so the week continues until “Ashtanga Day” – now after doing it I’ve realised why I’ve never really done it before or have any desire to do it again. Anyway it was with bouncy self practice girl, I’m really hoping that sex sounds aren’t compulsory – we’ve shared a lot as a group during this course but that would just be a step too far. So as the practice gets more complicated in a very casual manner these words are uttered “just put your legs into Lotus pose, thread your arms between the gap of your thighs and calfs” (the marker pen could quite easily have come back out again) – Well seriously, not even a wafer thin mint was going through mine! and then grand finale, whilst in Savasana (relaxation) “take any organic or orgasmic move that you need”, I wasn’t entirely sure that I had heard correctly…so I thought the safest bet was to do neither.

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We were then told not to miss dinner as it was going to be a special one…ooooh treat time in my mind I was hoping for cheddar cheese and biscuits or a food parcel of cheese scones had arrived from the UK (I’m really starting to think like Wallace & Gromit) one can live in hope.
So arriving at the dining area you do have a glance around the plates to see what’ son them and then the judgement comes…for gods sake just because you’re in India it doesn’t mean you have to eat with your hands…Get a fork Man! then I realised there were no forks or knives or spoons for that matter, so hoping that soup wasn’t on the menu, time to eat.

Sitting next to lovely germ phob Sam, who has happily placed her anti-bac gel next to her plate, getting sweatier at the sight of all these people shovelling food in with their fingers it did make me smile to think that no amount of anti-bac is going to remove the shite that has probably been on our hands for the last 3 weeks.
Anyway, it was a special dinner – up to the point where I went home and had to take my contact lenses out and the choice of spicy sauces didn’t seem to have been the wisest.

Getting towards the end of the week and even though the F*** This faces have disappeared we were all ready for a slow/relaxing yoga practice…Restorative it is then!
Blocks, blankets and bolsters and that’s where it became a bit unstuck – relaxing on your mat, gently folding forwards, softening your breath, resting your head onto the bolster…and about 10 seconds in you realise that your face is exactly where someone’s sweaty crutch has been for the last 3 weeks. So for the next few minutes I was wracking my brain thinking what do I have within arms reach to put over this bolster so I’m not nose to butt crack – sarong it is, to be fair it didn’t smell much better.

So after 3 weeks of Planks, Dolphins and Downward facing dogs the blisters are disappearing and the carpet burns on my elbows have scabbed over – there has literally been blood, sweat and tears on this yoga mat, so time for a little TLC in the effort to try and make my hobbit, cow shit covered feet look like a girls again.
Off for a pedicure – a lovely little tin hut but it did have a fan, happy days, and Blossom (I’m not convinced that was her real name but let’s roll with it) and she sets to work just occasionally glancing up at me and sighing as she looks back at my feet so to break the sighing I ask “do you do massages too?” to which she replied “yes I do massages” then frowned and said “I also do facials..they are good for wrinkles” hmmm what’s she getting at? “yes I do good facials, good for very dry skin and it smoothes out the wrinkles”. Ok Blossom Pet I get the message!

I might just take my new feet and wrinkly, dried prune face back to Sampoorna in the hope that tonight’s Mojito may just plump out my skin instead.
(Yes, over 3weeks we deserve a drink!)

Finally, never forgetting Sudhir, now the funniest part of the week doesn’t really translate onto paper, so just for those reading this who were there, I only have one word for you…Wave!

Here’s to the final few days of this amazing, crazy, weird & wonderful journey.

Namaste x

Selfies & a Salty Mouth!

Yippee day off time = time to get some sunshine

To everyone who said “you’ll come back so skinny and brown”, the only bit of sunshine you get to see during the week is walking between your cottage to the yoga Shala (up a god awful hill I might add which isn’t getting any easier as the weeks go by) and from the Shala to the dining area – where I’m eating like a pig – so neither of those prophecies are remotely going to come true. So time to make the most of it today.

A gorgeous morning to walk along the beach passing the cows, monkeys and horse – yes you read right – on its own, not with anyone just having a little wander so it would be rude not to take pictures. Just as I’ve settled for a lovely sunbathe I feel a tap on my shoulder from a random Indian man “Can I take a selfie?” My puzzled look must have said a lot as he said again “I have camera phone can I have a selfie?” – my only conclusion from this bizarre encounter was, just as I had taken photos of the cows and monkeys as its not the normal thing you see on a beach maybe neither is a small, white Geordie girl with big knockers?

So after a chilled couple of hours time for a quick change and a wander. First things first – proper bra on, for what seems like an eternity I’ve been in a sports bra so it’s such a relief to have them lifted up and separated again instead of squished together into a “Uniboob” (pretty much resembling one of the cows on the beach really!). I did say before I left if I hadn’t bought my Christmas presents before I left I was getting them here, so you’ll be pleased to know that there was no end of people shouting out “come and look in my shop” see what shite I have for you to take home (OK so added the last part but I’m almost certain that they secretly think it) So I did & I have…Happy Crappy Christmas!

So, back to Monday and things are starting to break a little bit, my wrist, my knee thankfully I have brought numerous supports with me so I look a bit like a Velcro walking wounded, the only problem with the supports being Velcro is everything tends to stick to you so by the end of the day it looked like I had one of those suits on that you throw sticky balls at as I was stuck to my own leggings and attached myself to both my mat and a towel.
Not to mention the sweet scent of Volterol with a hint of mosquito repellent that was lingering behind me.

“All Change day Tuesday” – starting with Mantra meditation now I thought this would be easier a you’re repeating a mantra over and over again instead of sitting quietly, no such luck. I’m convinced the Numbskulls* in my brain thought “ooooh great she’s distracted so it’s Riverdance time” – this one is still a working progress.
Then just before practice, all change again…”Move your mat to a different place” (now as most of you know, I am a fan of moving your mat around, if only to piss off the old people in the class as you’ve taken Betty’s space!)…Sometimes I do wonder how such an argumentative and aggravating person ever got into yoga, but then just think what I’d be like without it! Anyway I digress, so I moved to the front, Wow what a beautiful view from the front row, lush green tree tops, the sunshine glistening over the ocean and a dog having a shit on the roof! (It’s a flat roof it’s not that clever).
You’re right Rowie – change is good!

And so to the cleansing day, Neti pot morning – all about cleansing the nasal passages by what can only be described as a very teeny tiny Aladdin’s lamp, warm water, salt and patience (you can see where this ones going already!). So, the idea is you pour the water into one nostril and it comes out of the other in a little trickle of water.

1st try – OK so my fault I forgot to keep my mouth open and then wondered why I couldn’t breathe.

2nd try – Mouth open – tick, pouring water, still pouring water, still pouring water..no trickle, half the pot had gone still no trickle now it was at this point I was wondering where the hell it was going to, then I found out – straight down the back of my throat. Now, no matter what any man says a salty taste in the bad of your mouth is definitely not good. – Working progress with this one too (the Neti pot not the salty taste!)

So now we’re at our 1/2 way Silent day…yes all day, no talking, no eye contact, no reading, no internet, no music. Now as some of you know I don’t come from the quietest of families so the thought of staying quiet for a few hours is challenge enough let alone for a full day. So Mams suggestion was to do a jigsaw?!? Firstly, not allowed…and I wasn’t sure where the hell she thought I was going to find a jigsaw anyway so her second suggestion was to make one out of something! I’m not entirely sure that Sampoorna would have been very happy if I cut up one of their pictures hanging in my room into tiny pieces, stuck it all back together again with sellotape and then back into its frame, just so it kept me amused. So the final suggestion was we’ll send you a picture telepathically and see if you can see it! – this is not going to end well.

By breakfast I wasn’t sure if I was going slightly mad already as I found myself swooshing the tea leaves in the bottom of my cup and trying to read them…maybe these are clues to the crazy Tait picture they’re sending???

So the day was surprisingly enjoyable, very chilled, little bit of writing and sat on the rocks watching the sea & the sunset having a little chat in my head with my Dad. Perfect.

OK, so back to the picture, telepathy is definitely not a skill of the Taits, I had an owl sitting at a table with a Sunday dinner (I kind of think I’m just craving Yorkshire puddings) and Sara, a Buffalo with a clowns hat & a drum – so not remotely close, maybe we need to start designing for Doha airport? but apparently the psychic side has kicked in…but I can’t say why!!!
(I might still hold off buying a head scarf and and hoop earring for the time being)

Now, don’t get me wrong it hasn’t been all baby unicorns & butterflies this week, over the last 2 days I’ve had a mid-class mini breakdown (snot & everything), when talking about reincarnation & death, then Henrik almost tipped me over the edge at the end of Savasana the following day.
I came very close to testing out Sudhirs explanation of gravity.

So finally to Sweet Sudhir, he was talking us through the Indian philosophy of how the World was created, their temples and the idea of selfless actions and giving. He is truly becoming our own Indian version of Stephen Hawking (minus the wheelchair and the Metal Mickey* voice).

So basically you are the centre of the temple and there are 9 entrances to the temple reflecting the 9 holes we have in our body (bet you’ve already started to count them!) I might add in my body some of those holes are most definitely “exit only”. You take offerings to the temple, such as food, fruit, flowers or nothing at all then everything is shared out amongst everyone so basically if you’ve taken f*** all you could come up trumps and if you’ve taken a monster picnic your day could end up like a really shitty day on Saturday Swap shop* either way you are to be grateful, shitty swap or not.

Here’s to another beautiful day off.

Namaste xxx

* for anyone who hasn’t heard of the Numbskulls, Metal Mickey or Saturday Swap shop you’ve missed out big style not growing up in the UK in the 70’s / 80’s

My Sacred Triangle is on the move & Flipping the Bird!

I can’t quite believe that it’s almost 5 years since I found out I had a “scared triangle” and where I can and can’t put it! So, it can only mean one thing, it’s time for me to take it away again and go back into my yoga bubble for the next month and a bit.

Now I’m not entirely sure how a large carrier bag of clothes can turn into a 26kg heavy as hell wheelie bag but is has and on leaving Newcastle I was doing really well until Sara (my sister) tried to break me by shouting across the car park…”Rachel…Love you” now I’m not to sure if she thought I was going to get mugged or kidnapped whilst I was here (OK so both did nearly happen the last time) so she wanted her last words to me to be good ones. She might change her mind when she opens her Anniversary card in a couple of week time – yes I’m still in my phase of sending inappropriate cards.

So no airport experience can be complete without someone (not me) having a glass of wine regardless of what the time is…Seriously it’s 4.45am how can you have a glass of wine and a bacon sandwich, you’re in Newcastle for Gods sake, it’s not like your body clock is on a different time zone and hell you’re pensioners so I’m assuming you haven’t come straight here from clubbing!

First stop Doha, nice but weird airport. Poor Pudsey Bear has had his scarf taken away and a German helmet plonked on his head and as for the children’s play area it consisted of a big metal person lying on his side, the slide started from the top of his head and you came out through a huge hole in his arsehole! That’s a seriously disturbed mind whoever came up with that bright idea.

Now as you know I’m normally the one stuck in the middle seat but hip hip hooray not today! I’m not entirely sure the woman next to me got the memo about the arm rests and personal space though, she was sticking her phone in front of the window taking photos of nothing and watching my TV (no idea what that was all about) at this point I wished porn was one of the channel options and it might stop her sticking her head in front of my face. Now I can hear you say why didn’t you just tell her…she was Russian so I was a little bit scared.

Finally to Goa at 2.30am, I kind of forgot how crazy and dark it is so we had 90 minutes of weaving across the road, in the space of 3 minutes we narrowly missed a dog, man on moped with no lights on, police barrier, herd of cows and then a truck…a big truck…flashing his lights…on the wrong side of the road, that one did warrant a breath in and hold it. Lastly a cow still attached to his fence panel sitting in the middle of the road – I dare say, you would you be too if you’d had to drag a fence panel tied around your neck from God knows where. This one was unavoidable so the taxi man had to break the fence so we could get on our way. I’ll never complain about a pigeon in the road again.

Arriving at the hotel, OK so we’re back to a bucket and a tap for a shower but at least you get a toilet roll and a table cloth as your bed sheet – happy days. So, Fatimas guest house – the noisiest hotel ever, between them drilling and hammering not the most peaceful start to the trip – you imagine India to be swaying palm trees with the smell of incense and spices in the air, not at Fatimas…it’s was rickety ladders and the smell of gloss paint and turps.

Hopefully when I move to Sampoorna Yoga in the next 2 days I will find my little piece of Goan heaven, well that’s the plan at least.

Ok, so we eventually come to the first morning of the course, everyone is asked to wear white, you get a beautiful garland as you arrive at the Yoga Shala and all sit quietly in a circle overlooking the tree tops to the ocean, then they start making a fire in the centre. Now I can’t say that I knew exactly what the hell was going on (I do now, I’ve read the book) but at the time all I could really think of was “there’s a lot of nylon and fringing in this circle” so I did do a little shuffle backwards just to be on the safe side, I am technically a Walsh after all and we all know how that can work out.

This has been one of the longest weeks of my life, so a potted history of it goes like this:

First few days of 3 -4 hours of yoga per day I was convinced that the teachers had a sweep stake on who’s legs would buckle first, then came “Rocket yoga” no nothing to do with Elton John, even though we do have our every own Rocket man, all of our faces just kept saying “give me a break, you want me do to what?!?”
Away from the crazy (or so I thought), was our morning of self practice – 2 hours to just bring your focus to your own mat, your own body and your practice – Remember 2 hours, it’s like Billy Connolly once said “you don’t start work on a Monday morning going hell for leather, you get a cup of tea, scratch your arse then think about doing something”.
So that was going to be my philosophy, not the crazy person next to me who, from the get go, was bouncing around and just when I’d gotten used to that the sex sounds started! I have never been so grateful when those 2 hours were over…I’m moving mats next time.

Following on from that was the Metronome practice (no not like the ones in the Metro centre at Christmas) however if I could have shipped one of those costumes over I could have dropped that bouncing girl into it and it might have muffled the noises a bit and then onto Yang / Yin class, I can only imagine this is what it’s like being on cocaine so I’m not entirely sure why people pay a fortune for the drug when all they need to do is pay £10 and just go to one of these yoga classes instead.

Last but by no means least, Sudhir our meditation & philosophy teacher. At the welcome meeting we were all told “prepare to fall in love” and I think we all have, just a little bit. Imagine the most gentle Indian man with the softest of voices, he keeps saying “Am I making sense?” (You really have to say this with the Indian accent and with the slow indian head wobble to get the full effect). When talking about the Bhagavad Gita (one of the philosophy books we had to read) he said “there was a War”, then paused and said ” I have tried for along time to say that word properly, how do you pronounce it?” As he glanced around the Shala and paused at me I just thought “Seriously, you don’t want to be asking for elocution lessons from a Geordie…keep your eye gaze going”. I’m still not entirely sure we sorted that one out for him.

Finally, my nemesis, mediation and breathing now I know you’re thinking “breathing? you do it everyday…what’s so hard about that?” Well it is…well it is if you do it the yoga way, different breathing for different moods, intentions etc. etc. Take naadi shodhana or alternate nostril breathing, meant to clear the nasal passages and free blocked energy channels, you have to use your right hand only, close the right side with the thumb do something with your middle fingers to keep them out of the way and use the ring finger on the left side. – I know, it’s complicated to even explain never mind do. So we’re all sitting silently, eyes closed ready to start and here I am, thumb was in the right place but the rest of the fingers didn’t know where the hell to go, I was trying sneakily to look around the room with just one eye open to see what everyone else was doing then I thought “what the hell I’ll just do it my way” it was at this point I realised I was flipping the bird to Sudhir and bless him he came over and said “do you need a little help?” – I think he did that before I was let loose, did it elsewhere and offend an entire nation!

Yeah…so we’ve reached Sunday (told you it’s been a long week), DAY OFF TIME!!!!!
However, no matter how much you try to have a lye in you’re still wide awake at 6am. Never mind, by 0730 all of my washing was done and hanging over the balcony – there’s only so many times you can sniff your leggings to see if they’ll last for another afternoon!

Namaste xxx

p.s. This isn’t my washing for the entire week, just 2 days, I’m not that scruffy!

Not the best blogger or most patient person in the World!

Ok, so I’ve realised that I’m not the greatest blogger – I suppose you’re meant to be vey focussed in writing everything down straight away and get it on the website for all to read…yep not me!

Here I am 2 months later after my Bali trip sitting on a train to London, narrowly missing getting concusion every time the train stops at a station as people pass with their bags banging them off the corners of the seats & between the seats…my head.
(Note to Richard – next time you book me a train window seat please, it’s only a little request but a one that would mean I’ll arrive in London next time not looking like the elephant man!)
Ohhh 2nd note – not the quiet coach either, I’m sitting watching a woman spitting her grape pips into a pot with her mouth buried in it so as not to make a sound. Seriously every time I open my handbag I think someone is going to throw me out of the carriage for making too much noise. Did you not learn anything about me after my yoga teacher training?…I don’t do silence well.

Ok, so onwards with the journey, I have everything balanced on the teeny tiny fold down table…iPod (yes the volume is one very low), phone (yes that’s on silent too), notebook and empty coffee cup. Just as a lovely train attendant passes with a plastic bag of rubbish, time to make space on table and get rid of the coffee cup, so I asked if I could pop the cup in – you would have thought I was handing him a bag of shit, the look on his face! Then as he was coming back through the carriage again he stops right beside me & empties a bin behind my seat, trying to be polite I said “sorry I didn’t realise the bin was just there” to which here replied “actually you’re almost sitting on it” Lovely to see people happy in their work.

Anyway, my idea was to update my Bali trip and weird Christmas night out in Newcastle the time I’m on the train – if the thing stops bouncing around long enough for me to write….Watch this space!

Eurovision part deux (including Richards day of shit)

Well off with the caravan again, starting with a journey down to Portsmouth to get a ferry to Santander. We stopped a Winchester and had a couple of miles walk to the local pub, half way I’m sure that Richard had wished he’d taken the car as the conversation turned to “why are cows udders called udders and not boobs because they are just like a human on all fours?” and “how big are the slugs here!” (humongous!). All I could think of was, I have to walk back on this road in the pitch black in my flip flops and I’ll puke if I stand on one of those mothers! Much to his delight we reach the pub just as the pensioners coach trip does too, where there’s food involved these buggers move fast. Making our way through the lavender scented grannies & zimmer frames we nearly did score for a free carvery until I heard Richard saying, “No, I’m not with the coach party!”. You’ll be pleased to know that the pitch-black walk home was uneventful with no soggy slugs between the toes.

Next day off to the ferry and we scored for another “saga” bonus with free Sangria, their cabins weren’t ready so to avoid irrate pensioners with waving walking sticks best option was to give them alcohol & it seemed to work. Whilst wandering the ship we come across the dog park – how good is this? a little area where all the dogs can play, make other doggie friends and shite. That’s when I started to change my mind as little ruffus, who had diarrhoea, then needed it washed out of the way with a hose, just as I was passing with coffees the wind blew a little stronger – this is the second time within the last 6 months that I’ve had to dodge flying shit.

Off the ferry to Noja, a beautiful peaceful site on the beach, or so we thought. We pitch the van on what we later realize was the corner of Spanish Sesame St & “Shut the F**K up”. Needless to say, it is now going to be a flying visit with only time for a short trip into Bilboa. Oh joy, Bilboa the most confusing city to drive around – if in doubt keep going around the roundabout. It certainly was a flying visit as we realized we’d parked in the epicenter of the forthcoming “Tour de Spain cycle race” and by forthcoming I mean if you don’t move the car in 3 hours you’re here for the night. So chasing the police cordons we got out just in time. Plan B, let’s have a more relaxing time in San Sebastian, campsite chosen, sat nav programmed, off we go and then the words you never want to hear (especially when towing a 25ft caravan) where the hell it this thing taking us? We’re on our way up a single-track steep road, then I saw a sign for roundabout ahead – “it’ll be fine there’s a roundabout at the top I tell Richard”. Roundabout…really…it was the size of a bin lid with ditches either side. So I got out to direct or rather shouting “Stop” and then just closing my eyes as the edge of the wheels were heading towards the ditches. I’m not entirely sure how Richard turned it around but he did.

Onwards & upwards, literally…another single track lane and up half a mountain, I did say, “after the day we’ve had even if it’s a shit tip we’re staying” it wasn’t and we did.

Lets go for a relaxing coffee in San Sebastian, on our way we wondered why a car with flashing lights was right behind us (no it wasn’t the police, something worse…the bloody Tour de Spain escort car). Here we were in the centre of it all again except this time we were just stopped in the middle of the road with police tape around us. Seriously if I see another B**tard bike with a man in shitting lycra…OMMMMMM.

Next day…no bikes…no lycra…no roundabouts…off to Pamplona.

Gorgeous day, gorgeous city, then the trip home “no problem I’ll drive back” & the Sat Nav strikes again – this time lets take you all the way to the top of the mountain to bring you all the way back down to the campsite. This couldn’t even be classed as a single-track road, it was a garden path with a sheer drop on my side and bushes on the other. Needless to say every branch, bramble and tree bashed Richard the entire way down.

A lovely trip up the west coast of France travelling through Biarittz , the most pretentious place I think I’ve been to. There are 3 types of people there (excluding the surfers). Those who have money, the ones with the glossy cardboard shopping bags at 9.30 in the morning, Those who want to give the impression they have money – wearing their pearls, weird coloured trousers and look like they are smelling a fart & US – picking out the “money / no money people”. Biarittz is beautiful but you have to be too dressed and put too much make up on too early in the morning for me.

Off to Bordeaux & Arcachon & to the Dune du Pyla a 100 metre high sand dune, in parts as steep as an Olympic ski jump. All very nice until Richard decided the best way to get back down it was to slide on your backside. I wondered why nobody else was doing it as I was at the bottom emptying the ½ kilo of sand out of my ass!

Next stop La Rochelle & Ile du Rey – we’ve found our island of retirement, unfortunately we’d have to sell the house, cars & my mother to afford half a garage…back to Plan A (ish).

Next port of call, Les Sables D’Olonne lets not even start with the Sat Nav again. So on a little bike ride into the town, its only 6kms (even the map got it wrong) it was 6 miles each way and then another 6 to the beach where “toe gate” strikes again, thankfully not broken this time. So by the time we got back to the site I was nursing scuffed and bruised toes and a flattened foof, there’s something to be said for padded pants…note to self…pack them next time!

And then comes “Richards day of shit”…

Following the mother of all thunder storms, we thought we’d air the van and go for a coffee, then the heavens opened again, thinking nothing of it we got back to the van and realized all those windows we’d left open now had little puddles under them. So out came the duvet, mats and towels and they were hung over every available tree branch and chair and then there it was…Richard procession of Shite. Across the mat, up the steps, on the chairs and trainers. So hose out and start cleaning no matter where he was you could smell it, so he might as well as empty our loo too, so off he goes like a dejected trolley dolly pulling his cabin bag of crap. On his return, sitting back in the van those words are uttered “why can I still smell shit?”…that would be the shitty toilet paper stuck to your leg! “seriously?…get out of the van!”

Then I saw it, wedged between my toes…my own little packet of shite.

No, of course I didn’t tell him, as he was now standing outside stripped down to his swimming trunks with freshly hosed feet. “I’ll just pop to the loo and we’ll go to the pool as the sun has come out “ I said.

All is well again in Walsh’s World.

Flying Dubai stopover & the real benefits of yoga!

Keep walking Walsh’s

keep walking still…

Seriously a nail & everything!

Off to pastures new…well not for the first couple of days as we’re back in Dubai to break the journey, it was either that or occupy ourselves in Dubai airport for 9 hours – how pleased was I we chose this option, it was worth it purely for the man with the little toe alone, but I’ll come to that later.

We hurtled through the streets of Dubai almost all of the time on 2 wheels whilst testing the drivers ability to do a emergency stop – thankfully it was only a 15 minute ride…if you’d been in Disney you would have queued for 2 hours for that. So the following morning we thought it better & safer to get on the Metro.

How complicated can a Metro ride be?

Map? – Check

Day Ticket? – Check

Correct Platform? – Check

Correct carriage? – ah now that’s where the complications started.

After jumping on the first carriage and pulling out of the station we were promptly told by some woman “you will have to get out of here at the next station and change carriages – this one is not for you!” So after looking puzzled at each other we then see the “gold pass” sign on the wall. How did she know it didn’t apply to us? Could it have something to do with the raggedy arse Indian bag I’ve dragged with me or the 3 years of stains that are on Richards crocs?

So be it – next station change carriages – ah still not that easy…next carriage “Women only”, next one “Women & Children only”, next one “Disabled”. So eventually we found a carriage which allowed you to have a cock, be over 16, have all of your limbs and didn’t have to have a piece of gold plastic in your purse…Happy days continue the journey.

I’m thinking you’re wondering where the man with the little toe comes into it…well he was on the Metro, it took me 3 stops to stop staring at it…now I know I’m not one to talk with my feet but seriously he had a weird middle toe, it was half the size of his other toes either side, it wasn’t like it had been chopped off, it had a nail on and everything – I nearly did tap him on the shoulder and say “I’m sorry your in the wrong carriage, the disabled one is next carriage up” but I settled for taking a picture of it instead.

Well we tootled around Dubai without a fear of loosing each other as we were like two little queue balls, me with my yellow head & Richards grey. Weird thing was there were no children anywhere, it was as if the child catcher had been along with his lollipops and rounded them all up, either that or they were all stuck on the women & children only carriages on the Metro.

Anyway – as I was owed a birthday party tea due to the fact we spent my whole day flying, tonight was the night! Richard’s suggestion was to go to the hotel bar for a couple of drinks (the only place in Dubai to get a one!), as there was music and a live band on and a bite to eat. So after checking with the man on the door what music they played “restaurant music?” that sounds fine. We ordered a pint and half and settled down with my sole intention to eat my body weight in the free popcorn and olives after noticing the half of Heineken was £5.00.

The look of disbelief came over both our faces when the “restaurant music” started with “My life’s a bag of shit”, followed by “She’s a F***ing C**t” working up to the crescendo “My Shit Shines” (seriously Google them!). Well this is a different party tea than I’m used to, I usually just get Mam singing Happy Birthday with a plate of chocolate crunchies.

And then to the live band! I’m thinking Germany’s entry into the Eurovision Song Contest have come here to practice. Its going from the sublime to the ridiculous when they started playing The Shadows – Richard, love him, is the only person clapping along…I think he has a free pass to the disabled carriage tomorrow. Oooh great DJ Tourettes is back on and it was as if he knew it was my birthday as his parting song was “My balls are big…Happy Birthday!” Now this isn’t even taking into account the dancers that came onto the stage to dance between the microphone stands, which Richard thought (or hoped) they were strippers but there was no way their leggings were going to pull over the porn star heels they had on, or the Hookers…yes we passed those on the way out too!

Why, I hear you say is this bit called “the real benefits of yoga?” Well we all know about the flexibility, detoxing blah, blah blah – its really for that moment that you are squatting over a hole in the ground trying to pee whilst your trouser legs are rolled up, trousers pulled down…And forwards trying to keep your eyes on your wee just in case there’s a stray trickle heading towards a shoe or foot and you have to do a sudden but controlled movement left or right, not even taking into account if the door doesn’t lock then you are using your head to keep it closed…now that’s balance!

next instalment soon…

Middle Seat Passenger – First blog post

Well after years of traveling & picking up a pen and piece of paper every time I do, I’ve built up the courage to share it with more than my immediate circle of friends & family. Always having the fear that I’m going to end up like the X Factor girl in the Big Fat Gypsy bridesmaid dress, the entire family saying your really good at that when actually your worse than crap!

So here’s me…putting myself out there

I can’t promise to be politically correct, I can’t help it if people match their stereotypes, I don’t mean to offend but probably will at some point! It is all done with love & bemusement at how people really are. It’s my journey so far!

Watch this space for the updates… Oz 2003 209