I woke up at dawn. I had slept well but needed to use the loo. I walked to my nearest bathroom. Number ones could normally be dealt with at my hut. When I say normally, let me explain. My hut was in the middle of nowhere but amazingly no matter what time a day or night I needed to relive myself some Sri Lankan would pop up out of nowhere, in clear sight of me. In fact one afternoon a whole family appeared, perhaps word of the strange white man had spread through the village.
Anyway back to my morning call. As I got close to the toilet hut, I heard a voice. I realised it was Trish's voice. If she sensitive about her yoga mat, how was she going to feel about me doing a number 2 within arms reach of her tooth brush. I couldn't face that sort of confrontation that early in the morning. I turned around trekked barefoot for 20 minutes to the house and sorted my self out there.
As I was walking I was trying to think of what this village reminded me of. It was a bit like a really down market Club Med but that wasn't what it reminded me of.....
I made it to yoga as the class.
Sting was at the front of the room on the left hand side next to Trish warming up. Marco was also at the yoga class with Christina.
The class started as normal but then Jane went into some more complicated moves.
"If it is the first or second day of menstruation its probably better not to try this". I looked at Sting for guidance, but he was focused and didn't bat an eyelid. I thought to myself "Its probably safe for me to try this one." Here I had a clear biological advantage and I was going to do an advanced move. I was psyched. I lay on my stomach and moved forward resting my weight on my arms.
"No Michael ! you do cow". No I wasn’t allowed to try the advanced move. "Thanks Jane", I thought. I know who the cow is and it’s not me. The class continued.
"I have had a special request", said Jane " Pair up everyone, we are now going to do head stands and hand stands" Yeerrr Right Jane !!!!. You might be doing handstands but I am happy being a cow. At this point I decided to stop. Watching these women trying to do handstands wasn't particularly funny, until, Trish's over enthusiastically tried to through her feet in the air over balanced and nearly knocked Susana unconscious.
Things could be worse I hadn't humiliated or injured myself and the classes could only get better I thought. "Tonight instead of the evening yoga class we are having a dance workshop". What the hell was this. A dance workshop…... Where did it say this on the notes. There was no mention of this on the web site. Yoga twice a day it said. Sting had left the building was last seen running towards
I had breakfast. Jane hadn't slept very well because of the monkeys fighting on her roof, It was
Yes it was peaceful. There was no obnoxious
a. there were no Americans
b. there was no reception desk
c there was no staff.
Why should there be any staff ?, No room service, no cleaning, no hovering, no cases to carry, ....This was no Sandi Lane or Dusit Thani, but page after page of the guest book was filled with these glowing references. "Can't wait to come back, I was so sad to leave, Wonderful". Even the Sunday Times and Daily Telegraph had written about this place in glowing terms.
Now I was onto something........., could this be a concept I could sell to some major hotel group. Hear me out. You take a dilapidated no star hotel in a stinking hot country, cut off the electricity and water supply, fire all the staff, do no maintenance or repairs. Import a yoga instructor, an Italian with a guitar, his body guard and a kiwi helper.....and wait for people to arrive. Could this be my path to early retirement?
I booked my treatments, changed into my sarong and started straight away.
I had the consultation with the Aryvadic doctor. We sat in his little shack. The walls had small framed pictures of Hindu deities separated by knives, spearheads, spoons. I assumed these were probably surgical instruments. On the floor there were various jam jars and old milk bottles filled with powders and potions. He told me about the three forces. The pitta, the patta and something else I can't remember. He took my blood pressure, asked me about my bowels and asked a few other questions. Then he really got to work.
"I notice you are sweating" he was clearly onto something.
"Yes"
"Do you sweat in your own country"
"Only when its hot" I replied
"You are sweating now" He was definitely onto something.
"Its hot ?" It was 90 degrees, I was in a small airless hut in the jungle and I was definitely sweating. This guy was sharp. He could spot a sweating white guy from 12 inches away. He wouldn't let the "sweating thing" go.
He carried on about my sweating problem which was apparently due to problems with my pitta and patta. I told him about my asthma and he told me to keep taking my inhaler.
Then he delivered another critical piece of health advice "Don't eat pineapple." However, the impact had been lessened as I knew he had given this same piece of advice to everyone else he had seen. Perhaps pineapples are evil or perhaps he had a bad experience with one when he was child.
He then started telling me about his teacher.
"My teacher lives in..........."
Where I thought ............out in the Jungle,
"My teacher lives in
If this was the disciple, how could one conceive of the masters power. So powerful and yet so local to
I finished the consultation and went for the first treatment. I had the hot oiled poured on my forehead which felt just like having hot oiled poured on your forehead.
Next, was the the steam bath. This looked like a wicker sarcophagus. I was laying inside when the steam hit my back. This was really hot steam that made me jump. I felt like a giant piece of dim sum being cooked inside a wicker coffin. There was no choice I had to get out. But no, there were western voices outsides. It was Ginny and Susanna who had recommended I try the steam bath. If they could tolerate the heat, what would they think of me jumping out saying it was too hot. They may have seen this as a sign of weakness and force me to the dance workshop. This steam was really HOT. Maybe the Doctor was right and I had pitta patta problems or maybe he had told them to crank up the steam to prove his theory. In true James Bond fashion, in the darkness of the steam bath I rearranged my sarong to rest between my back and the wicker platform I was lying on. In that way I was able to survive.
I had Gian Luca's chiropractic something or other which was unremarkable. He swung my limbs and around and clicked some of my joints. He told me my back was fine and that my legs were of equal length. Gian Luca lived in Chiswick.
Finally I had the "relaxing" arevyda all over massage which felt like being oiled with something that smelled like rancid linseed oil and was the colour of iodine. I was rubbed down by a Sri Lankan guy who had wiry fingers and hands like course sandpaper He gave me a head massage that was much less pleasurable than having a hair wash at Toni and Guy. As the minutes slowly ticked by during the massage all I could think was how get the rancid oil off my body and out of my hair. I finished my treatment and walked off stinking, looking for a shower. I scrubbed and rubbed. Stupidly I hadn't brought soap or shampoo. I had to use the local organic soap which looked like soap but adding water to it or rubbing it didn't change its appearance in any way. I cleaned myself as best I could and walked back to my PCH to change.
What did this place remind me of middle aged English, educated, affluent women, making inane conversations telling each other how well they were doing. The sweating, limping and singing in the evenings to past the time. The tropical conditions, the complete absence of comfort..... TENKO. Yes the 70's TV program about English women in a Japanese prisoner of war camp. That's what Ulpotha reminded me of.
Dinner was subdued. All the women in the camp were affected by Gian luca's sadness. He had been separated from pasta for nearly two weeks and he was going cold turkey. All the women tried to comfort him but he couldn't be helped. He described the contents of each terracotta pot, but instead of being filled with vegetable curry they were filled with different fresh pasta sauces, Bolognese, carbonara,...........
Gian luca wasn't playing his guitar. This was a truly sad occasion. Gian Luca's weakness was seen as opportunity by the women who started working out how to get him pasta which they eventually did. A car was due to carry one of the guests to
Gian Luca's pasta dependency spread of melancholy round the camp. No one smiled. This was no music that night and very little talking. Occasionally Jane would quote the Dalai Lama " Selfish compassion is better than no compassion."
I spent the evening playing backgammon with Sean. He had a slight advantage. My pieces were brown and the board was predominantly brown which in the darkness became virtually invisible.
Then Trish walked over to me.
"Michael do you have a particularly loud voice ?".
"Why ?" I asked.
"Ginny has got my torch and I want here to bring it back, so I would like you to stand over there and shout for her to bring back my torch"
"I don't think my voice is any louder than yours" I replied. Which I didn't think was an unreasonable response.
"I don't know what you are implying Michael ?" said Trish before she walked off.
With no music the guest faded away.
This was my last night I walked to my PCH, hid from the Monkeys and went to sleep.
I slept soundly every night despite the noise of the crickets, birds,snakes and monkeys and Trish. My chest complaint that I had been nursing for two weeks dramatically improved. My unhealthy symbiotic relationship with my lap top was temporarily terminated and I genuinely look back at the experience happily and positively and I would even consider going back, but not in the foreseeable future.
As for the SAS weekend that Joel got me as a 40th birthday present. Bring it on
No comments:
Post a Comment