DENNIS: While Kimberly is blissing out on yoga and enjoying the scenic beauty around Rishikesh, I am back in the little town of Raiwala still doing volunteer teaching. But I have the opportunity to absorb some local lifestyle by attending an Indian wedding in the village.

It begins with the principal calling me into her office to inquire why I am not eating my meals in the cafeteria. I respond that the mealtimes are not convenient for me, which is indeed one reason. If I have breakfast, I need to be finished by 7:00 or so to be ready to teach, and the cafeteria doesn’t start serving until 7:30. And it doesn’t begin dinner until 7:30 p.m., at which time I am taking my shower, doing any evening tasks, and turning a yearning eye toward the sack. Lunch is the one meal I normally do partake of there, even though its 1:30 start is considerably later than my accustomed time.

But there is also the matter of our dietary restrictions; there are certain culinary items that Kimberly and I tend to avoid or minimize, one of which is salt. And the food in the cafeteria, though it’s tasty enough, tends to be as saline as shark sweat, at least to our taste buds. So while we have been having lunch on the campus — we consider it important to sample at least some of the native cuisine — we’ve been managing our own breakfast and dinner. (Kimberly always has oatmeal for breakfast, and that’s something that isn’t served in the cafeteria.)

It’s while we’re chatting that the principal extends to me the offer to be a guest at a local wedding. The daughter of one of the teachers (he teaches martial arts, and I’ve seen the classes in session out on the grounds) is getting married the following night, and she urges me to drop in at the location, which will be within walking distance.

After school, she arranges for me to catch a ride (on the back of a motorcycle) to the home where the elaborate decorations are being set up, and people are milling around all over the place. I am introduced to the father, and someone apparently explains to him that I want to attend the festivities, and he seems surprised. He goes over and confers with someone else for a few minutes — a very long few minutes — and it’s beginning to feel as awkward as a suit of armor on a rush hour subway. Finally, the dad comes back over to me, and tells me to be here at 8:00.

Ultimately, however, I decide not to show up. For one thing, there’s the noise, which is a sensitive matter with me. The shindigs around here are very keen on amplified sound, and I can hear the music from my apartment at a party miles away. They’re setting up a monster sound system for this event, and heaven only knows how deafening it’s going to be at close range. And among other things, that would make it very difficult to have a conversation with anyone even if we speak the same tongue — which is not likely.

But even more important, I can’t help feeling that the invitation is not really an invitation. It was the principal who suggested I tag along, and she apparently has no real connection to the wedding. The people who do seemed caught off guard by the prospect of my barging in. Maybe this is just how things are done in India or in this community, I don’t know. But I’ve never been one to intrude, and it doesn’t feel right to do it this time. So reluctantly I pass up the chance to participate in a tableau of local culture.

Meanwhile 10 Miles Away on Top of a Mountain

KIMBERLY: On Saturday the 7th, our first Saturday and typically a day of instruction, I instead get up at 4 a.m. along with the other students training to be Yoga Teachers to catch a bus for an hour long ride up a steep winding road to the top of mountain. Then we hike up to the summit to Kunjarpuri Temple, and as is custom when entering temple grounds in India, we do the last part of the hike without shoes. Kunjapuri Temple is a sacred place dedicated to the goddess Kunjapuri Devi with a stunning view of the valley of Bhagirathi and if you get there early enough, the rising sun.

First Week of Life in a Yoga Teacher Training Program Update

We’ve just about completed our first week of training. The program includes our meals, which follow ayurvedic principles, emphasizing fresh, whole foods that are locally sourced to promote balance and well-being. So the meals are vegetarian, and they are also very tasty, nutritious and varied. I did get adventurous and eat the breakfast they served on the first day, but found I am too fond of my oatmeal and established routine. So I opt to begin eating that on the balcony by myself while I study. I have however developed a way of cooking my oatmeal (adorned with nuts, flax and chia seeds) by just pouring hot water over it and letting it sit for a few minutes. I do grab some fruit from the canteen to go with it. Perhaps it is because of our ever changing environment as full-time vagabonds or it is just human nature, but I find comfort in having a few familiar things and routines. One is my morning ritual, another is eating out of the container I carry with me to serve as a bowl and plate, with my own utensils whenever possible.

I am surprised to discover that I actually enjoy our daily anatomy classes. This is the one class that I was most apprehensive about, but the teacher is personable and skilled at making the material memorable. Our Mantra class which only lasts one week, while informative, is too short in my opinion. I would have liked more time to learn more, and suppose I’ll have to do some independent work in the future. I, probably like most people, hear 200 hour Yoga Teacher Training (YTT) and visualize a full day of nothing but movement classes. We, however, only have 2 movement classes a day and they are both 90 minutes each. But most of the day is spent sitting on our mats, bundled under an orange blanket, taking notes, discussing and asking questions. We study 6 days a week to squeeze 200 hours into a one month timespan.

OK Back to the Sunrise

It was so worth the trouble of getting up in the middle of the night. We are treated to a serene sunrise and a view of the Himalayan Mountains. We feel like we are quite high in elevation and we are at 5500 ft (1676 m) but then to look out and see the snow-capped Himalayas, you really appreciate how high they actually are. And even then it is hard to wrap your head around. It’s like looking out to the stars or gazing out to the open ocean and realizing how tiny each individual on planet earth is.

While we are soaking in the sunrise I hear an animal in distress, and at first I think it’s a bird and go to investigate. There I spot a momma monkey grubbing on temple offerings on the ground while her infant is hanging on from a hook on the ceiling for dear life, crying loudly and scared. Later, I spy the grateful infant hanging on to momma as she scampers off to take care of her monkey business.

Looking down to the north at a town far below and catching a glimpse of the mighty Himalayas in the distance. More than 100 of the mountains in this range reach heights of 23,600 ft (7,200 m).

Class of December 2024; Yoga Antics

Of course we all have to document the moment by posing for photos. We pay our respects at the Kunjapuri Temple, get a snack and then hop on the bus to head back down the mountain. Many of my fellow teachers-to-be end up getting carsick on the way up and down. I guess the 30+ years I spent of traveling in an RV have made me immune.

Back at Vinyasa Yogashala

I, along with another student from Colorado, wrap up the week by making friends with the owner’s daughter, who adorned our hair with flowers. Then we close it all off with our first Kirtan night. “What is Kirtan?” you may ask, as did I. Well two local musicians/singers join us; one plays a drum, the other a traditional instrument that I don’t know the name of. The songs are all in traditional Sanskrit but they are repetitive and easy to sing along with. Like a mantra set to music. The last photo was taken before the dancing began. You’ll have to imagine that part.