Midlife Crisis in Asia

Yoga In Goa

I am getting used to life in Goa, it has a really laid back vibe. On Thursday I was asked to go along to a yoga class. As I do Pilates I thought it would be the same, only with a bit more heavy breathing. When we arrived I spotted an older white lady with big gold earrings and pink flip flops who had assumed a prune-like appearance from excessive sun worshipping.

She was chatting outside, smoking a fag, and I was thrilled to hear she was a fellow Brummy, with the broadest Brummy accent. I got talking to her, and learnt she had done a Shirley Valentine.

She came here on holiday 20 years ago, met an Indian guy, and never went home. Her love for the guy soon faded, but her love of Goa remained. As we chatted she lit one cigarette from another, and I could just imagine her propping up the local beach bar with a pint.

Hello Father Christmas

I was late going into the class and the only free space was right at the front. I grabbed a mat and sat there eagerly awaiting some taught and toned young Indian yoga guru, in a vest top, to put me through my paces.

When the double doors finally swung open imagine my disappointment to see Father Christmas appear. The yoga guru was 120 years old with a long white beard, a long white coat and a vast assortment of ethnic necklaces.

He calmly sat down, crossed his legs, put his hands together and starting chanting ‘Ohmmmmmmm.’ It became apparent that were were all meant to ‘Ohmmmmmmm,’ so I joined in as best as I could.

Strange Exercises

This certainly wasn’t Pilates so it must be yoga in Goa! We were expected to adopt some very weird positions, some of which required the use of a wooden brick, and in between we ‘Oommmmmmmed.’ At one point we had to lie on our backs with our legs up against the wall at a right angle. The only way to get into this position was to sit sideways with your bottom cheeks hard against the wall and then swing your legs up vertically.

Unfortunately when I did this my legs swung like a rocket-fuelled pendulum through 180 degrees and landed on a pile of wooden blocks. This tragically toppled over with a loud clatter. I heard ‘tuts’ and gasps from the other class members and I felt mortified as I tried to regain my composure.

Then I heard a deep Brummy voice from the back shout ‘Noice one Ja-in!’ Regrettably this made me burst into a fit of giggles. I won’t be attending the Ashtanga Yoga class next week, but I am meeting my new mate Sheila for a pint on Tuesday.

Coping On My Own

When I arrived at the hostel here I thought that the most immediate threat to my welfare would be the snakes. Wrong! On the first evening I set up my mosquito net over my bed as best I could. As there was no hook on the ceiling to attach it to, I improvised with an elastic band I found in my suitcase, which I tied to the bracket of a rusty wall light.

I must say I have got a lot better at all this technical stuff since I left home. It is amazing what I can do when I can’t rustle up Husband to sort such matters. Anyway, after only one night, I was covered in insect bites, which increased in number steadily every night. This meant I spent most of my waking hours scratching myself to death. At 2.00am on Friday morning I realised that I had even more bites than I went to bed with, despite the absence of mosquitos.

Dr Google

I had an awful thought… I Googled the large red lumps now covering my entire face and body and my suspicions were confirmed. My bed was crawling with bed bugs! This was not conducive to getting any further sleep that night. So I spent the next 5 hours lying on a towel on the floor whilst trying not to think about the millions of bugs inches from my torso.

The next morning I complained bitterly to the manager who said ‘Oh don’t worry we will change your sheet tomorrow!’ I have to admit I did rather lose it and said I wanted the whole bug infested building fumigating not just a clean sheet!

5* For Me

Thanks to me the hostel has been shut for the weekend, while pest control moves in. This seemed like the perfect excuse to run off to a 5* hotel for the night totally guilt-free. Goodbye sleeping bag, hello Egyptian Cotton bed linen and air conditioning…

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