It is sunday and Kamal, the India women I share the second floor with says “holiday.”

Some of us (other Americans)are getting together for dinner and cooking on my floor because I have a large kitchen,  which is actually Kamal’s domain, but we will use it for getting dinner.

I walked down to the street to where I buy my veggies from a  young man who has an old steel cart and sells an assortment of vegetables. Peas to shell, tomatoes, okra is in season, carrots, potatoes, cauliflower, green beans, and some very different looking squash. I haven’t tried those yet. I stir fry a lot of the vegetables and have eggs or rice with them.

Papayas are great right now and the custard apples are in season and I love these. I will have to explain those later.

I bought some tuberoses from a little flower stand. Their smell reminds me of India more than any other scent. They are very fragrant and fill a room like lilies. They remind me a little of  gardenias in intensity. The other smell that I love is cardomon. Only once this trip have I smelled this in a yoga class. Some one in a nearby kitchen is cooking and a whiff of it comes through the  windows during class. It also is so exotic smelling and distinct.

Classes are very different and intersting. The assistants who have been here for ever some starting when young, are teaching. Mr. Iyengar spends some time with them in practice time and then guides them in class. A tag team listens to his instruction and then delivers the info to whoever is teaching and then out comes the instruction. It is like teacher training–for all of us–students and assistants. This is only for the women’s classes 2 days a week and an occasional class during the week. Prashants classes are very different and interesting in they are more philosophical and controversial.

My time here is lovely and I am enjoying being the student, time to rest and read and study. The weather is glorious and I have spent some fun times with the 2 women on the floor above me form Portland.

As much as things are changing so quickly, there are still the rickshaws competing with all the cars, the women who work cleaning the streets and in the homes wearing their saris and the little store I buy groceries which is half the size of the studio. The other day I called a store from the phone in the house I am in to see if they were open. When I asked directions on how to get there, he said call him and and let him talk to the rickshaw  guy to tell him how to get there. I told him I didn’t have a cell phone! I thought I am the only person in India without a cell phone!!

Must close! Love to you all,

Lou