It’s not a walk in the park this course. We’re working hard learning the physical side of yoga with a breathing class, 2 hour yoga poses class and a meditation class a day. 

We’re also studying anatomy, yoga for health, matras, philosophy and teaching practices which keeps us busy from 6.30am until 5.30pm.

We have breaks, of course. But the eating schedule seems to be around the temperatures. 

We have fruit at 8am and lunch (curry vegetables, dal, rice and roti) at 10.45am. Dinner isn’t until 7.15pm so all meals are when it’s cooler.

I say cooler, since the thunder storm cleared the air last night, the sun is shining and the temperature is up.

The owner, Amit, told us when we arrived that we were to cleanse our bodies and follow the eating schedule – no toxins like alcohol and meat etc. 3 vegetarian meals a day.

I mentioned about having been poorly and that I have a very high metabolism now so need to eat regularly- I’m not sure they understood until I had a hypo in class.

Everyone was very kind, brought me fruit juice and bananas and the class carried on around me as I felt sick and dizzy on the floor.

It really wasn’t passing so after class I walked very slowly back to the hut accompanied by an able Scotsman and took some travel sickness tablets. Eventually they did the trick and I’m fine today.

Was mostly just embarrassing!! Weak feeble little Noelle 😞

Amit brought me some glucose powder to add to my water to keep me going in the day from now on.

So today we started the schedule-proper. Yesterday it was slightly different because we had an opening ceremony with flower garlands and wrist ties. 

But today we started at 6.30am with the nose watering can.

When we started we were given a book on yoga practice and a very small, plastic watering can. My classmates looked at it knowingly but I remained merrily ignorant. 

Until his morning.

So it turns out you fill the watering can and pour salty water into one nostril and bend over so that it flows out of the other one giving your sinuses a good old clear out.

It felt a bit like when water goes up your nose in the swimming pool. Except you’re choosing to do it. Tomorrow it’s a whole watering can per nostril.

Now I know why tissues are recommended for our classes.

Funnily enough, there are no photos of this technique.

The rest of the day looks abit like this:

• 6.30 am – 7.00 am: Cleansing Kriyas (nostril watering)
• 7.00 am – 8.00 am: Pranayam, Mudra and Bandha (breathing techniques)
• 8.00 am – 8.30 am: Tea & Breakfast – this is fruit
• 8.45 am – 10.45 am: Asana – yoga poses
• 10.45am – 12 am lunch – which we’re soooo ready for!
• 12. 00 am – 1.00 pm: Anatomy and Physiology 
• 1.00 pm – 1.30 pm: Mantra Chanting 
• 1.30 pm – 02.00 pm break 
• 2.00 pm – 3.00 pm: Philosophy
• 3.00 pm – 3.30 pm: Meditation
• 3.30 pm – 4 pm: Break
• 4 pm – 5.30 pm: Alignment, adjustment and Teaching Methodology
• 6 pm – 7 pm: Break
• 7.15 pm – 8.30 pm: Dinner

In the breaks we dash towards the sea to cool down! Although, the sea here is actually warmer than the showers.

There’s been a photographer shadowing us for the first few days. He sent a few through this evening.

So Sanskrit’s tricky.

Here’s the mantra written on the whiteboard:

Om asato maa sat gamaya
Tamaso maa jyotir gamaya
Mrityor maa amritam gamaya

Meaning:
Lead us from the unreal to the Real
From darkness to Light
From death to Immortality

Lovely! And when the teacher sings it (oh yes, it’s a little ditty) it’s sounds so natural and exotic and beautiful.

Now, imagine the scene, if you would. The teachers 6 pupils sit cross legged infront of him trying to make some connection between the words written on the board and those flowing from his mouth.

There are 2 German girls, one hungarian, a Swiss guy, a Scotsman and me.

Sounds like the beginning of a joke…

The lesson is taught in English so Scottish Louis and I have an advantage – everyone else has to translate into English then into Hindi and vice versa. 

I say advantage… it’s so difficult tuning into the accent even though the teacher’s English is excellent.

So there I am, legs going numb from hours in ‘easy pose’ (crossed legs) with people naturally talented with languages around me showing off and rolling their ‘r’s and it’s all I can do to mumble vaguely in time.

Eventually the best I can manage is:

Arse Sar-toe mar sart gar-may-yarrrr
Tam-arse-oh mar joe dear gar-may-yarrrrr
Meteor mar am-written gar-may-yar??

Believe me, no rolled r’s in sight, just one confused northerner hoping it will come to me, miraculously, in my sleep. 

In the next installment… cleaning your nose out with a tiny watering can….



I’ve moved into my new home. And it’s all about location, location, location.

I’m in Hut No. 2. Which is actually the first hut and the nearest to the ocean (they have fitted the doors randomly). Aaannnddd I’m but two steps away from the restaurant.(I’m using the word ‘restaurant’ loosely).

My walls are pink and blue and I’ve got sheer maroon curtains.

My bed sheets have been rescued from the 70’s but I reckon the bed is quite comfy with a fan directly overhead.

Mosquito nets are available upon request.

No traditional welcome with shell necklaces this time but I was just as confused.

The hotel provided a free shuttle back as far as the airport, then I found a pre-paid taxi rank there which took me the 90minutes down to Patnam beach. 

But when we arrived no one had heard of the school – all the locals looked completely non plussed until a savour in the form of a friendly Swiss guy.

‘Hi! I’m Urs!’

Urs is one of my course mates and arrived at 5am this morning in the pitch black, his taxi driver having dropped him and disappeared. The only living creatures around to ask directions from were dogs, and apparently not much help.

Urs showed me the way to Shiva Shakti Yoga where another of our colleagues greeted us in the ‘restaurant’. In the meantime a sign had gone up to let people know the school was there.

It turns out they have just moved from a couple of beaches away and everything is still in the process of being constructed. There’s still one chap here from the previous course and they had to stay in a hotel because monsoon season was late.

I apologised for what I felt was the millionth time about my weather curse. (See previous blog of the same name if you’ve never been on holiday with me).

My hut is finished tho and I like it.

Couldn’t be more far removed from the hotel room in Panjim but it’s actually en suite and I have a little balcony.

The only furniture is the bed so I’ve brought in the balcony furniture for now to raise my bag off the ground and I’m using a chair as a dressing table.

I’ve found an old crate to use as a bedside table. I rinsed off the spiders and left it outside to dry.

By the time I leave, it will be a palace!

I had a wander along the beach to get my bearings. This place really is beautiful. The water is warm and the sand is perfect.

I was picking pretty shells up until I got a bit of a shock that they were occupied!! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a living thing in a shell before – I mean sure, on the Little Mermaid or Finding Nemo – but not washed up on a beach scrabbling to get back into the water!!

They’re quite sweet really, in a crabby, leggy, molluscy sort of way.
I’ve spent the evening getting to know some of the other participants and the owner – people from all over the world! 

The course sounds like it’s going to be intense – lots of talk about cleansing the body and something about putting a bit of string through your nose and out your mouth…. 🤢

I’m all tucked up (and spider checked) in my mozzy tent. Early start tomorrow with the opening ceremony.

Considering I didn’t have a plan for today, I’ve managed to fill it quite well.

I even made a friend!

(When I texted that to Mum this evening she relied ‘A human one?!’)

When I went to the travel desk today, the answer to my question:

 ‘Can I book one of your free excursions to the beach please?’ 

was: 

‘It’s far too hot for that, mam, you should walk to the Portuguese Quatre instead. Here’s a map.’

Any excuse to not make a decision of my own.

Off I trotted. 

While trotting, I noticed that I was walking much quicker than everyone else. I realised that at home I was usually walking in the wind, or rain, or cold, so the quicker I walked the warmer/drier I would be.

Here that’s not so much of an issue, so the pace is much more sedate. Although, ironically, if you do walk quickly you get quite damp because of the humidity. 

Something told me they were on to something. 

Despite having walked the first part of today’s route yesterday, I still did a little double back and reroute; due mainly to paying more attention to the speed everyone else walked instead of which direction I should be going.

When I got to the last large landmark known to me – the white and blue church by Dominos Pizza – I noticed another tourist (recognisable by the pastiness of his legs) walking purposefully in what I thought might have been the direction I should go in. Hurray! Herein started my afternoon’s pastime of ‘follow the tourists’.

I followed several different sets of tourists through the streets of the old Portugese part of the city – lots of brightly coloured buildings in various states of repair.

One set of tourists took me directly up to an amazing looking temple on the side of a hill and I followed them up to it to have a look around. 

(Unfortunately they walked too slowly and I accidentally became part of their group for a while… they accepted me without question but with a hint of ‘who the hell are you?’)

When I’d taken my fill of pictures of the view I turned around to find myself alone again. So I wandered in the direction my group had gone and hoped for the best.

I got my map out to figure out where I was but couldn’t find the temple, or myself, anywhere. 

It looked as though the road led through a complex of posh looking residencies and if my map reading was correct, the road should lead me to a fancy palacey sort of place on the hill.

Of course it didn’t. So I retraced my steps and stumbled upon the very same tourist I’d started following earlier! Hurray!

I asked him what the temple was and where we were. Luckily he spoke English and had data on his phone. Jackpot.

He took over the navigation up to the Archbishops Pavilion (palacey sort of thing).

I suggested finding a coffee and pointed at my map saying that if we walked in that direction it looked like there was a cafe.

He very politely took the map, turned it the other way up, and started walking in the other direction.

It turned out it didn’t really matter because eveything was closed anyway, it being Sunday. It turned out my new friend (Ardian) hadn’t been to the park I’d found yesterday so after I’d pointed to it on the map, and he’d decided the route, we made polite conversation about our time in India so far.

It turned out Ardian was German, and working in IT. He was actually on a business trip and was just killing time until his bus this evening. He made lots of lovely suggestions about where to visit and spoke about various temples he’d been to.

Then it got awkward. He did the thing I was reminding myself not to do from the moment he said where he was from.

Don’t mention the war.

‘Have you seen the strange symbols in some temples that might remind you of something else?’ (I wrote that with a German accent – please read it as such)

‘Oh the ones that look like Swastikas?!’ I blurted out

Silence

‘That look like what?!’

Oh god. Maybe he didn’t mention the war. But I sure as hell just did.

Thankfully, I’d taken a picture of what I thought he was talking about and showed him.

My heart stopped racing when he confirmed that was what he meant. Turns out they don’t call them Swasticas – who knew?!

I changed the subject quickly and he happily complied by telling me that Goa was famous for cashew nuts. Then every second shop appeared to be a cashew shop and the whole thing was forgotten.

We had a happy wander and sat on the little beach I’d found yesterday watching the tiny crabs run in and out of their holes, making balls of sand.

I started wondering out loud whether there was a maze of these holes in the sand like with ants or rabbits… I’d got to the part of my musings where I wondered what the tunnels might be called before I lost Ardian completely but he smiled politely every time I called the nearest crab ‘Warren’.

We wandered a little further, found a shell, saw some puppies, I pointed out a dead puffer fish, climbed through some undergrowth to find a path (‘I wonder why there are so many abandoned sandals’) before I decided it was about time we found a coffee and some air conditioning.

We were right by the hotel so it made sense to go there – luckily for Ardian there was also wifi so it was much easier to drown out my various life observations.

Someone told me recently it wasn’t necessary to fill every bit of silence with rubbish. To be fair to the person in question, the comment was necessary to halt a monologue on what the restaurant ‘Lobster & Burger’ might serve: ‘is it like a burger inside two lobsters, or a lobster in a bun? Or is the burger made of lobster meat, or is the beef burger in the shape of a lobster?’ etc etc 

Luckily for you, dear reader, you can put this blog down whenever it gets too much.

Where was I?

Oh. Coffee.

I got my map out and asked Ardian to help me figure out where we’d walked.

I got him to put his own name on it where we met as 1. I wasn’t sure where we’d met 2. I couldn’t spell his name 3. I’d forgotten what it was almost immediately after he told me. My main observation was that he was possibly spelling Adrian wrong, but who am I to tell him what his name is. Also, thinking about it, Adrian isn’t very German… he’s probably right about his name after all.

I thanked Ardian for his company and map reading abilities and we said our goodbyes as he set off to the bus station. 

Now the rest of my day is embarrassing decadent … and I’m just going to prerequisite it by saying I’m not normally this lavish, and I’ve been trying to reduce the guilt by telling myself I’ve been working hard, and that it really isn’t that expensive here…

Guilt’s a cruel mistress…

So I found myself at the spa again. This time looking at the massage price list. A back massage seemed the sort of thing…

So I put my name down for 6.30pm and headed for the pool.

I’d intended to swim. But I found myself lazing around, writing the first part of my blog as the sun set on the roof terrace.

Then a snack arrived…

I thought to myself, I can always cancel the massage.

And I got to thinking about guilt. My thought processes… spending money… spoiling myself. It takes a huge amount of convincing to do these things. I’d even suggested the massage to a couple of friends to gage the response. Overwhelmingly, of course, they said ‘go for it’, ‘sounds wonderful’, ‘by god that’s cheap’.

And I’m so glad I did it. It really was wonderful. The spa was just beautiful and the staff welcoming and I came out feeling so unbelievably relaxed and happy. 

Good decision. Eventually.

So having visited the hotel dinner buffet and stuffed myself silly with curries, dals, freshly made garlic naan, and the dessert counter having taken a hit, I had a quick visit to the bar for my nightcap G&T with my second new human friend, Joshi, who kept me company and invited all my friends and my mum next time I visit!

And it’s bedtime. Check out is at 12pm tomorrow and then I head to the next part of my adventure, and Agonda………

Well actually, it’s probably more than that overall… I’ve done a lot of driving around Cumbria the last couple of years which will probably increase that by a couple of thousand at least… in fact just the other day the garage told me I needed a new fuel filter in my car because I’d gone over a certain mileage and that’s only since April!

But I digress… in a rather pedestrian direction… sorry, hope I haven’t lost you… 

4,836 miles is the distance between Cumbria and Goa, India, which is where I currently am.

Predictably eating curry.

Predictably?! Eating?! Curry?! This isn’t he Noelle we know and love… is it?!

Exclaim you might, but 2 years on and I’m eating stuff. Like actually properly enjoying eating stuff.

I’m not eating all the stuff yet. I’m still a bit of a dick about dairy and gluten but I’ll share a little secret with you if you promise not to tell my subconscious…: I tried some gluten… and a bit of a dairy and you know what… nothing happened. But granted I probly didn’t have enough for my digestive system to notice, or my subconscious to catch on so we’re safe. 

Anyway I thought I’d better put a bit of practice in before coming away because I decided it was going to be less easy to be fussy in India. Some of the safest things to eat contain gluten – bread for example. And I was right – the safest thing at breakfast this morning was toast. And while the old me would relish the idea of a stomach bug, I mostly don’t want to ruin the rest of my hols with the runs!

What hols?

These ones! These hols on which I will do my yoga teacher training.

But I haven’t got that far yet – I’m currently ‘acclimatising’ in Goa’s capital city, Panaji or Panjim (as far as I can tell, it hasn’t decided).

Well, actually, I’m currently eating my dinner while chatting to you because I’m here on my own. Eek!! 

My journey went without incident or anything of note. The 7 hour layover in Muscat was spent snoozing on what was essentially a park bench. Had it have been in a park that is, actually it was in an airport lounge. So an airport lounge bench. Next to a mobile phone charging stand. I felt classy. But sometimes fatigue wins over classy and this was one of those times. At least I had an eyemask from the plane so no one could see me. That’s how it works, right?

Fast forward 11 hours and I land in deepest Goa and like all intrepid expedition adventurers … I got collected by the fancy hotel transfer service cos I was scared of landing in a strange place and getting in a car with a strange man. 

Many hours were spent back home planning my first three spare days in India before my course started. No, that’s a lie. A couple of hours were spent desperately finding a place to stay at the last minute because, true to form, I did no planning whatsoever.

A poll was taken of my trusted friends and family as to whether I should stay in a hostel, B&B or hotel and the resounding vote was ‘please stay in a nice hotel Noelle, you’re not ready for daring’.

And thank god.

I was crapping myself on the way here about where I was going and what the hell I was going to do when I got there. Now I’m at the nice hotel they are doing a lot of the thinking for me which is a relief for my family and ultimately the emergency services.

When I arrived they did a ‘traditional welcome’ which would have been lovely had I not have been shattered, sweaty and confused. 

“A traditional welcome mam”

“Er, ok”

Awkward exchange as lovely Indian lady puts a red dot on my forehead.

I inwardly sigh with relief “that wasn’t so bad. I now feel like a native”

Nice Indian lady appears again 

“Shell necklace mam?”

“Er, urm, I’m not sure.. er… how much?”

What’s going through my mind are the warnings from people back home about markets and avoiding buying extortionate tat or accidentally agreeing to be sold into slavery.

But having just been picked up from the airport for free, arrived at the hotel gates to a security check of bonnet, boot and under car then my bag checked and having walked through a metal detector into a beautiful hotel reception with fountains and everyone in uniform… turns out this was just the lovely way the hotel greets all its guest.

Zero to offending the locals: 30 seconds.

I reckon I got away with it by being distracted by having to sign something or other then turning back with a big smile and a “oh how kind, thank you so much. A shell necklace for free, how wonderful.” Then remember that what I just signed was the bill, and this necklace is the least free thing I’ve ever been given. 

First embarrassment out of the way, it was time for bath and bed.

Sweaty?! Moi?!
***

I woke up confused about where I was. By the time I’d figured it out I was excited for breakfast time.

Which, as you know wasn’t fish curry, despite it being on offer. 🤢 (I’d like to qualify that 🤢 by saying it’s not fish curry that makes me feel 🤢, it’s the combination of fish curry and 9 o’clock in the morning. Ok ok 9.30… and 45 minutes. (Shut up, I’m jet lagged))

Whilst eating my toast and marmalade I started having a mild panic about what to do for the rest of the day. This was as far as my pitiful planning had got and everything between now and when they tell me to start doing yoga is a big blank space.

Luckily some people on the other side of whatsapp were awake and confirmed my suspicion that I should stop being an idiot and just ask at reception. 

Even luckier still, the chap behind the Travel Desk recognised that I might be an India nube. He gave me a map of the city, with the hotel clearly marked, and drew a straight line up the Main Street to a nice cathedral I could visit. Then he booked me a taxi for later in the afternoon so I could visit the Old City. When I asked whether a bus might be better he replied, in the most polite way, that that might be abit complicated. Quite right.

So off I went , on my first excursion into India. Finally I’d be able to show people back home what it looked like outside the hotel room.

20 minutes later, I confirmed a suspicion that the back of my mind had been harbouring for 18 minutes, that I had, in fact, gone the wrong way. 

If I hadn’t gone the wrong way I wouldn’t have seen the hilariously rude sign, disguising itself as a garage advert or the wild boar trying to cross the road and I wouldn’t have seen the perfectly preserved, comedicly squashed rat. And when I say “see”, I mean “nearly stood on”.

So, having crossed the road to avoid the rat, and the wild boar come to that, I walked a bit quicker back in the direction of the hotel. Then stood on the corner, turning the map around until the roads made sense.

Had I been a cat, sat on a wall, and in the habit of making obscure and inappropriate Harry Potter references, I could have been Professor McGonagall on a street corner in India. But sadly I was only one of those things.

Finally on the right track, I was looking for the Dominos Pizza shop at which to turn right and find the cathedral.

I couldn’t see either but dead ahead was a very nice white building which seemed to be attracting a lot of selfie-taking attention. 

A beautiful white building with steps up to a church and blue detail on the pillars. I sat and drank some water while being pleased with myself for finding a hidden treasure on my route.

Having set off again to find the cathedral I located Dominoes (I had been stood under the sign) turned the map around a bit again… and realised my hidden treasure was in fact the lovely cathedral I’d been navigating towards in the first place.

Map 2, Caroline 0

Having got the hang of this map business I decided I no longer needed it. I would walk towards what it said was water and take the scenic route home.

And no, I’m not writing this from some obscure part of the city, or from a raft in the watery bit. I found a very nice garden AND a park with beaches with coconuts and jellyfishes then miraculously turned up back at the hotel thank you very much.

A quick change (caught my post-walk reflection in the lift mirror – pastey northern girls do not do well in humidity…), quick lunch and a coffee later I find myself booking a pedicure for this evening in the spa then it’s time to hop in a taxi to the old part of the city.

I had a wander through the Basilica of Bom Jesus but it was packed with tourists so didn’t see it at it’s best. The place was just full to the brim with people, selfie sticks, and signs calling for silence. No chance.

I literally cannot think of a better photo op

Following the exits signs past a small garden and carts selling tat, a girl came up to me and asked if she could take a selfie.

“Everyone else is, I thought. No one else has asked. Do I look official?” I thought

Oh, no, it turns out she wanted one with me. 

“Ok” i said, bewildered

Well, I’ve never felt so much like Taylor Swift in my life. Suddenly I couldn’t move for teenagers wanting a selfie with me! 

I made it out of there feeling oddly special even though I’m sure it was just the colour of my hair and pastey skin they were fascinated by. I was a bit disappointed I hadn’t taken a selfie of my own but I feel safe in the knowledge that I will adorn many a Facebook wall by this evening.

I wandered around a few other, thankfully quieter, churches and around the museum (in which I was mostly interested in finding the loos rather than pictures of old Portuguese dudes – I’m so cultured) then went across to the ruins of the Church of St Augustine which was beautiful in the setting sunlight.

Back to the hotel for a quick swim, a pedicure (to cover up my disgusting, runners’ toes) and discovered the 5 star equivalent of an ‘all you can eat’ buffet for the princely sum of £8. 

Phew! Day 1 take that! From waking up not knowing where I was and or what to do next, to a full tum, a G&T and a resurrected blog. 

I haven’t planned what to do tomorrow. Obvs.