dedicated yogis

one struggles, while traveling, to keep up with any sort of exercise regime.  ten years ago, road-tripping through europe with my father, my solution was running.  one of my best memories -- both of running, and of that trip -- is of cruising uphill through the cool morning air in luxembourg, the crisp crunch of pine needles under my feet, my ears full of church-bells, while the villagers below me file in to worship.

here in malaysia, while the dawn call to prayer could arguably substitute for the bells (and certainly does a fine job as a sometimes-romantic, sometimes-dreadfully-inconvenient alarm clock), there is no such thing as "cool air" at any time of day or night.  so its a wonderful thing that, after doing some seriously intensive time at a yoga shala in mysore back in february  (details on this later), we are still super-dedicated to almost-daily yoga practice.  

it leads to some pretty ridiculous situations.   i've spent a lot more time on the floor of some sketchy guesthouses than probably any previous occupant.  hopefully.  i've spotted socks and crumpled-up hotpants and plastic bags full of mysterious lumps, shrouded in the mystic anonymity of underbed dust.  i've hung out with all kinds of spiders.  i've discovered the precise sweat-limit of my yoga mat before it becomes completely, slipperily unusable. (this last during an ill-advised noon yoga session outdoors in the perhentian islands.)  we've switched rooms to get more yoga space, and compulsively moved furniture (unearthing archaeological-quality mounds of dust in the process) to eke out just a few more inches of precious yogic space.

 if only i'd had the presence of mind to record a few more of these shoehorn-type situations.  but this one, in melaka, is pretty representative: armchair and dresser dragged in the yoga-unusable space between the two beds, traveler detritus scooped up off the floor and onto various surfaces, mats spread and ready for use.  i will never, ever again give the evil eye to someone who creeps up on my space in a yoga class.  now i know, and viscerally, that space is only borrowed. 

and its all worth it, to make this possible.