hello, march

I’ve been home now for a month and in that time have become THAT person in the yoga studio - the one who starts every other sentence with, “I just got back from India…” or “When I was in Mysore…”

Yesterday morning, Sunday, I made my way to yoga for practice. (I should be making my way there now, as I write this, but there’s about 8 inches of snow on the ground and nobody is going anywhere in Boston this morning.)

At the top of the stairs was the usual early March scene at a Boston yoga studio: dozens of sturdy, warm boots, nearly identical parkas (mostly black, and if not, definitely some sort of practical neutral color) and a lot of hats showing pride (New England Patriots) or hope (Red Sox). A few of us arrived at the same time and Victoria commented on the weather being warm and nice for early March.

“It feels warm out, right?”

“God no.”

“Well, I guess it’s not warm compared to India.”

Small talk fail, on my part. I hadn’t thought I was annoyed about the weather, but I sure sounded like a grump. I ended up thinking about this exchange for a while. I felt like a bit of a jerk for being so contrary early on a Sunday morning. Why do I hold March to a higher weather standard? February gives me a a bright, sunny 35 degree day and I’m thrilled. But when March dishes up that kind of day, I’m disappointed. I’ve lived in New England my entire life, and yet when I act like I’ve never heard the expression, “March come in like a lion, goes out like a lamb.”)

It’s cold. It’s snowy. It’s Monday. And, no, it’s nothing at all like India. And while I loved my time there (I still have more to say about it here), I’m really, really glad to be home.

eating sushi in india - day 8 - more notes from the line

I have about an hour to kill nearly every morning while I wait my turn to start my yoga practice. This was my was of entertaining myself one morning, rather than counting my space in line over and over.

The puppies were still sleeping when I arrived at 5:53 am.


It feels a touch warmer than yesterday, so that's a nice change. The line is at the bottom of the two flights of stairs. Two students have already left since I arrived. I guess the whole waiting in line situation is not unlike getting breakfast at The Paramount in Beacon Hill. There's a crazy long line, and you order food while waiting in it. Miraculously, by the time your order is ready a spot opens up at a table. It's a system that defies logic and feels like it shouldn't work, but it does.

In terms of yoga fashion, it looks pretty much the same as it does at home. Hoodies. Birkenstocks with socks. Flip flops with socks. Small canvas totes printed with the name of people's home shala. The Chinese women have those socks with the articulated toes - socks that are more like gloves rather than mittens. There are a lot more harem pants here, but not a stitch of tie dyed anything, which surprises me. One woman is wearing this amazing full length windbreaker with a crazy bright, multi color geometric pattern along with a wide brimmed hat. Her sun protection game is fierce and the sun isn't up yet. I didn't expect to see so much Lululemon, but it’s here in force - the clothes and the shopping bags, too.

6:19 am - I just want to go back to bed.

6:21 am - The earliest batch of students is finishing up and a couple of them are chatting while have their post practice coconut waters in the dark.

6:33 am - Daybreak. I’m now seventh in line.

6:40am. Puppies are awake. Yes, I read the article about the woman who died from rabies after a street puppy in India bit her. And, yes, I do keep my distance. I think there are monkeys in the trees...and puppies are barking at them.


6:50am. Dalmation guy, who walks by the same time every day.


6:51am. Second in line.

6:52 am. Next one in...

8:45 am. Practice done, and back at the guesthouse. Now on to the rest of my day…