Category: January 2018

3 a.m. I need to pee. There’s a frog in the toilet.

It seems that wherever I go in this country, including when I need to go, there is a constant reminder that I am not separate from nature.

On my short walk to the beach, I encounter cows, innumerable grown dogs, puppies, hens with their chicks, cats, kittens and lots of different birds. They share the space with great patience and recognition of the other’s right to existence.

I’ve noticed that none of the cows and dogs are afraid of the tourists, which explains why I can’t for the life of me get the cows out of the yard. Alstid, the owner of La Rocha where I’m staying, says that the animals figured out long ago that the white people will feed and pet them, while the Indians are more aggressive toward their presence.

This morning at the beginning of yoga, I went into a full body stretch only to feel my feet touch something soft and furry…one of the canines that shows up regularly for class. Cats sit with me for my pre yoga coffee, meowing for food, of which I have none but they insist nonetheless.

And the frog in the toilet? There’s no way I’m peeing on a frog, so I had to wait about an hour, bladder bursting, until it made its way to the back of the toilet, from where I shooed it off to a more comfortable distance (after getting a picture of course). From now on, I’m keeping the toilet lid down.

I’ve just observed the 8th anniversary of my sobriety. No drink to celebrate (smile), just an acknowledgment of a gift to myself that keeps giving back, each and every day.

I don’t know who or how many knew I had a problem. My ex did, of course. He was there to witness the daily ritual that started with a single glass of wine to relax at the end of the day and ended with a two-bottle-a-day habit that was ruining my life.

I was sick all the time. My work suffered, my relationships suffered, I suffered. I tried cutting back, but it seemed I had only two drinking buttons, On and Off. Choosing Off was not easy. Most of my social interactions involved a certain amount of alcohol, even the healthy ones. Because when the run was over or the race completed, many celebrate with a drink. So for a while, I felt like a freak.

I’m happy to say that the feeling has long ago been put to rest. I am a healthier, happier, kinder and more compassionate human being now that alcohol isn’t screwing up my system. I go to bed at night secure in the knowledge that I will not wake up hungover…again. I don’t have to worry about late-night calls from friends who need help. I can drive anytime, anywhere. I think straight…well, most of the time.

Do I miss it? Sometimes. I used to drink for the feeling but now I miss the cold, crisp sip of white wine, or the refreshing effect of one single beer on a hot summer day. Strangely, I do not miss my drink of choice – red wine- in the least! I hope that’s progress.

I’ve never written about sobriety before, and I’m not sure what makes me do it now. Perhaps an attempt to be real. And now back to our regular program…

I took my first yoga class at a tiny studio in Eastern Passage. At that time many years ago, the Spoon Studio operated out of a tiny basement room, but it wasn’t long before we were practicing in brand new space on the second floor overlooking the mouth of Halifax Harbour and the ever-changing Atlantic Ocean. It didn’t get much better than that, or so I thought.

This past week, I have been attending morning yoga classes in an open air shala on the shores of the Arabian Sea. Teacher Nina is trained in the Sivananda style which I have practiced for the past several years. We concentrate on breathing and meditative presence as much as on the asanas, and after 90 minutes in the gentle sea breeze, I am relaxed and stretched and optimistic about my day and my life in general.

I learned one new asana this week. I call it freakasana. It is performed when a tiny lizard runs under your neck while you’re lying in savasana. To my knowledge, it is never performed more than once in a lifetime and, if so, is never performed the same way twice. Namaste.

Reading about winter in Canada makes me a little hesitant to say this, but conditions could not be any more perfect here in Goa. Temps never get much higher than 30 (so far) which is perfect at the beach, and evenings are cool, so cool that I’ve not used the fan once since my arrival, and I usually need a blanket for comfort.

I’ve settled into a comfortable daily routine, beginning with breakfast with my dog. He is only my dog when I have food, otherwise he is off doing dog stuff…chasing cows, harassing cats, fighting, licking himself, etc. We have worked it out so that he now gets one toast and I am left to eat the other one and the eggs guilt-free. He still gives me The Look, but I’m standing firm. We’ve had several conversations about why he can’t have grapes but I just don’t think he gets it.

I usually take a walk after breakkie to say good morning to the vendors who line the path to the beach. Unlike the women on the beach, the entrepreneurs here are not pushy and will take no for an answer. They just never miss an opportunity to invite you in to “just look, no buy”. I have difficulty with that concept so I try to stay away. And if I do buy something and it is visible to the others, I seem to spend the rest of my day explaining where I got it and what I paid for it. So I’ve started lying…it’s just easier.

Afternoons are spent mostly on the beach, in and out of the water. The ocean hasn’t warmed up to the point where it isn’t refreshing yet, probably due to the cool nights. This Canuck is soooo grateful for that. What I am not grateful for…sand flies. I am covered in bites and for the first few days I blamed mosquitoes. Turns out that the north end of the beach has sand flies…

I had dinner a few nights ago at a place down the beach called Cuba. Next door to Cuba there was live entertainment. Well, sort of live…he actually sounded like he was dying a few times. And I must admit I was hoping at one point that one of us would..

My henna tattoo has darkened from orange to a pretty rust colour, just as she said it would. It is giving me ideas about getting another, permanent one… The trouble is, even when I put years of thinking into the design, I still get it wrong. With a permanent Buddha on my leg, I cannot visit Sri Lanka for fear of being deported for disrespect, something I did not foresee…

After a bit of searching, I have found a yoga class. It is close to my hut, has a morning Hatha class that does not start at the crack of dawn, and the instructor is good. I attended my first class this morning and pulled a muscle in my thigh. It sucks getting older and having a brain that thinks otherwise. This too is impermanent…

I was going to relate my travel experience on New Year’s Day from Kathmandu to Goa but I have decided it would just prolong the agony. Instead, I’m hoping that the video of the angry mob at the Air Asia gate will give some sense of the mood. The 20:05 flight finally got off the ground at close to 4:00 am the following day after several delays and one outright cancellation which was quickly rescinded.

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i  have never seen such behaviour. Some of the passengers would have spent the night in lockup had that scene played out in Canada.

But I digress. I am in Goa. My hut, while overpriced, is perfect. I have a comfy king-sized bed, a decent bathroom with instant hot water, and a superb setting in a small bay between Patnem and Palolem beaches. There are dogs that guard the place. I have never seen dogs so good at keeping cows off the property. I have no idea whether they are that enthusiastic about robbers and rapists. But I know we are safe from cows.

 

And that’s important if you know my track record. Just today, a cow was standing in the doorway of a restaurant as I was trying to leave. Thankfully there was a quick-thinking kid nearby who pointed out that I could exit via the two-foot high walls next to the entrance. Duh…

After calling my bank to get them to implement the instructions I gave before leaving Canada, I was able to access an ATM today and pay the debts I’ve accumulated since arriving in India. Honestly, why is there an online option to say that you’ll be travelling if they don’t read it or take the required action? Thankfully the owner of my beach hut bankrolled my taxi fare and phone recharge…

Goa. The air is hot, the sand soft under my bare toes, the water surprisingly refreshing, likely due to coolish nights (by Indian standards). One of the shopkeepers recognized me today as I was walking back to the beach after lunch. Exactly how much money did I spend in his shop last year?