Of mountains, dogs and steam trains... My first Yoga class

I love sports so this weekend has been great... Handball European Championship (Germany in the final), Australian Open (Kerber winning the women's final), Bundesliga (Dortmund winning) and of course the seemingly endless cricket on Indian TV in case nothing else is on.

Although I love watching sports, I prefer doing sports myself. Nothing big but a bit of running, swimming and after buying a bike last year, I really got into cycling. Since moving to Mumbai, I have to say I haven't done that much. I'd like to blame it on the weather and roads which make running and cycling a bit more difficult but if I am honest I have also just gotten a bit lazy. Since moving to Powai, I've been to the gym a few times but as my self motivation in a gym is quite limited, the maximum time I end up spending on the treadmill is about 15mins...

So I needed something new. A friend told me that the hotel next door has daily yoga classes and although I cannot make the classes during the week as they cater more to the non working residents, I decided that this weekend, I would try my first ever yoga class. What better place to learn yoga than India right?

I'm making this sound like some new trend. Truth is yoga has obviously been around for years and years but I have never tried it. I'm rather impatient and quite like active sports and felt a bit like yoga might be boring and not "proper" exercise. And I don't really get he meditating part of sitting there, finding your inner self and making "ohmmmm" sounds.

The classes on a Saturday are either 9-10 or 11-1pm. I wanted to go for the 9am one but didn't get out of bed in time so thought I'd go all in and for the 2h class - it's not proper exercise after all me thinks.
So I arrive 5mins late to a room with 4 other women who are sitting on the floor breathing in and out while going "oooooohhhhhmmmmm". Exactly what I didn't want. But here I was and there was no point of leaving again without being noticed/very rude.

So I sit down, halfheartedly make a few ohm sounds and trying to focus on my breathing. For the first 15mins we do breathing exercises. Breathe in through the right nostril, out through the left one - all to the background of the instructor going "breathe iiiiiiiiiiiiiin" and "exiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit" with every deep breath. It gets even better when we take one deep breath, followed by a 30-quick-breathing-out exercise. The sound we are supposed to make to this very much resembles a steam train from 1900. The absolute highlight is having to open our eyes wide and try touching our chest with our tongues. that is obviously impossible but even trying looks pretty ridiculous as I am reassured by the mirrors on ALL sides of the room At this point, I'm pretty sure that yoga isn't for me.

Thankfully, the breathing exercises come to an end and we start doing what I believe are well known yoga figures. It is a bit like stretching but holding the position for 1-2mins. And depending on what position you are in, that can get quite exhausting. The instructor kindly says that "our new friend" (that's me) can take a break whenever she wants and although I am at least 15 years younger than the other participants, I do need a break during some exercises. I'm relatively flexible so manage most of the exercises in a more or less graceful way even without the "cheating trick" of using a towel to extend the reach of your arms. However, holding the "extended-hand-to-big-toe" pose below for longer than 20 seconds without falling over it a bit tricky. See below for illustration, to be clear
- This is not me
- I wasn't smiling like her
- I also wasn't wearing the ridiculous trousers



After an hour, the two non Asian women in the class leave and "the new friend" is told she is free to leave whenever she pleases. By that time however, I have gotten into the swing of it and want to stay for the 2 hours I had planned to stay for. Unfortunately, now I am definitely the least flexible person in the room as we move on to various stretch exercises on the floor. The Asian women fold into parcels so tiny you could probably fit them in your hand luggage while I struggle to get my head touching the floor while holding on to my toes. Everyone else looked like the picture below... I didn't.



We do various other exercises on the floor, some quite entertaining and a choreography of different poses repeated 10 times - a very popular one was the downward facing dog. Wuff wuff



Between each exercise, we come back to the "mountain" pose for a few deep breaths. The mountain pose it one of my favourite ones and I am REALLY good at it. It's much harder than it looks :)




Towards the end, we do some abs and bum exercise which are pretty much what you do in a normal gym class - not sure whether yoga borrows from the gym class of vice versa but considering how long yoga has been around it is probably the latter. Last, the teach asks us to put the small towels over our eyes (I'm very happy now I didn't use it as an arm extension earlier to reach my feet!) and she starts talking about focusing on our soul and deeper self... I have to admit I didn't understand most of it as she was very quiet and I was also drifting off into a nice little snooze - turns out yoga is exercise and you can be a bit tired after two hours. Then the lights come on and my first every yoga class is over.

That was yesterday and today I woke up with my WHOLE body aching. Not sure it's the stretching or muscle pain but I definitely feel like I have worked out much more than on my 15mins treadmill encounter. So I'll be going back next weekend, although I might be 15mins late next time to miss the breathing in the beginning...

But now back to some proper sport, handball is on TV soon (the anyone non European, it's a really cool sport!). And I will leave you with my favourite yoga pose - the "child pose" - ohmmmmm

Powai - home of the crocodile hunter?

After a few problems with the flat hunt in Bandra, I moved from Juhu to Powai a few weeks back.When i first visited Powai, I told Indiadam that it reminded me a bit of Las Vegas... Just a little bit. A tiny little bit... Maybe type "Powai Mumbai" into Google and you might know what I mean.

The one thing Powai is known for though arent slot machines or club nights. Quite the opposite, it's a very residential area and many people who live in Bandra would call it a bit boring. But the one thing Powai has and it is famous for is Powai lake.

It's quite big lake, according to Wikipedia it covers an area of 2.1 square kilometers and is up to 12m deep. A key point though is that is is man made. By the British actually around 1800... It's very green with lots of trees and bushes and from if I go outside the apartment, I can see the most beautiful sunrise over the lake every morning (slightly dependent on the smog level :)). So bottom line, it is very pretty and every day you can see lots of fishermen in the lake fishing. They all move around the lake in big rubber rings, the kind you sometimes get to go down slides in waterparks. So far so good.

Before I moved to Powai, I was told there were crocodiles in the lake which I put down as a rumour tourists get told when they arrive in the city. After all Mumbai is a big city, and doesnt strike you as a good place for wildlife to thrive. I started having my doubts when more and more people told me there were crocodiles but since at least as many people kept telling me that there are definitely no crocs in the lake, I kept to the more realistic version of no hungry hippos or crocodiles to be found on he lake. Why would these fishermen go into a lake with animals that could eat them?!

I then got sent a picture that supposedly was evidence of an actual crocodile in the lake - to me it looked more like a piece of wood... so everything suggested the mystery of the crocodiles in Powai lake would be unresolved.

Until I moved to Powai and saw them with my own eyes! There are real crocodiles in the lake and these fishermen just go about their daily routine only a few meters away from the animals. Fair enough, the do look rather relaxed but you never know when they will get hungry. And what else would they eat if not the fishermen? Do crocs eat fish? I guess I have seen a water buffalo around at some point but they seem like an ambitious goal...

And here comes the evidence - the pics arent that great either as I only had my mobile phone on me but trust me, it is not a piece of wood...

After I had seen them with my own eyes, I did some more research and actually found an article (from what looks like a proper newspaper) that a fisherman got killed in 2010 by a crocodile. It even mentions the rubber rings I was talking about...

http://www.hindustantimes.com/mumbai/crocodile-kills-man-at-powai-lake/story-K4JfgW0sIdsPJdC9QTJDuO.html

This leaves the question: How did the crocodiles get into the lake? I haven't really managed to find out despite asking a few people and googling. I will keep trying though so watch this space...

For now, my theory is that the crocodile hunter brought one on a holiday to Mumbai. And sometimes I am not sure these fishermen aren't secretly training to become the next crocodile hunter....

You may not kiss the bride...

Before I had ever visited India or knew much about the culture or people, one thing that always came to my mind when I thought of the country were weddings. To be honest, growing up in Germany, India felt like an exotic country far far away and I didn't really know anyone who had ever been. It might come as a surprise to any British readers that finding Indian restaurants in Germany isn't actually that easy so not even the cuisine is something that I was familiar with. One thing that I had heard about though and at least I thought I could picture in my mind were Indian weddings... Thousands of people, bright colours, lots of food and dancing to Indian music. They just sounded so different to any wedding I had ever been to that it was something that fascinated me (and trust me, I'm not usually fascinated by weddings and everything that comes with them).

By the time we decided to move to India, I had been on holiday there, I had tried my fair share of curries (both British Indian and real Indian), had read various books about this history of the country and worked with Indians. As a result, I had also heard many first hand stories of Indian weddings and have to say I was hoping that sometime during our stay in India, we would get the chance to attend and Indian wedding ourselves.

Little did I know that we would end up having a wedding invitations before the visa. On a pre-visit to Mumbai, we met my old boss (who is from Mumbai) for dinner and I happened to mention that it would be cool to attend an Indian wedding at some point and without any hesitation he invited us to his cousin sister's wedding in 2 months time (just imagine you just deciding to invite two absolute strangers to your cousin's wedding - she would be thrilled wouldn't she?!). Such a kind invite and we were very excited but also not sure what to expect.

As we settled into life in Mumbai, the date of the wedding came closer and closer with neither Indiadam or myself with a clue about how to prepare. What should we wear, what do you do as wedding gifts, what are do's and dont's? Luckily, one of my old colleagues from London is from a Mumbai family and she gave me lots of useful tips on whatsapp on what to wear and where to shop.

With the wedding on a Monday, Indiadam and I set off on Saturday to get ourselves outfit ready for a proper Indian wedding. First mistake - when we walked into the Sari shop and told the helpful staff that I needed a Sari and a dress for Monday they looked at us in panic: "not enough time". For what I think? Tailoring the blouse and dress apparently... Ok, so we better get started. Walking into a Sari shop during wedding season is pretty mind blowing - cloth and colours everywhere, staff (weirdly all male) helping customer try on one Sari after another and the constant noise of shouting for the tailor, another sample etc.

We sat down, or more Indiadam sat down and had a nice cup of coffee while I had to decide the main question: Which colour for the Sari? My favourite colour is blue so I decided to go with that although I did get tempted by a bright pink/white Sari which I never thought I would but some of them just look and fall so nicely. The ones I tried out all came with a blouse, some plain but some in bright gold with lots of beautiful stitching on then. You can spend any amount of money you want on a Sari but think mine came to 8000 Rs in the end which is around 80 Pounds. You could say: Not that much for a wedding outfit. Or you could say: Quite a lot for a long piece of cloth. Either way, picture below

Next: dress for the evening - and again, the choice was overwhelming with a different guy spreading about 30 dresses of various cuts and sizes in front of me. Being a bit tired of trying on clothes, I saw a purple one liked, tried it on and went with it. The dress came with a beautifully stitched "scarf" that you wear over one shoulder but it goes all the way to your feet on both sides - not the easiest thing to wear but very pretty. Leaving the blouse and dress to be fitted, we were told we could pick them up at 7pm the next day, Sunday. Just in time for the wedding on Monday morning.

Some people who know me might have noticed there is something very unusual about this photo. I'm wearing jewelry! One thing a colleague of mine had suggested was to buy some bangles to go with the dress. Fortunately, there were around 50 different stores close to the Sari shop selling bangles. Ranging from corner stores to proper jewelers. We went to something in between and once again, the choice was overwhelming. So many different sizes and styles of golden bangles to be combined with colouful ones to complete my outfit. Indiadam was most impressed with how quickly the guys could count and put together perfectly symmetrical styles. I actually ended up buying both blue and purple bangles to go with my day and evening outfit but had to stop them making them so many that they would cover half my arm. After bartering a third of the price, I felt a little bit better about buying two cases of bangles I might never wear again - but hey, you don't go an Indian wedding every day

Last but not least, we needed an outfit for Indiadam. A kurta pyjama which I was really looking forward to seeing him wear. We got recommended a nice place called "Telon" in Santracruz which was very good but also very plush. A kurta pyjama basically consists of leggings and then a long pyjama looking overtop the length of a dress. Indiadam went with a dark red one, not knowing this would colour clash quite a lot with the turban he would be made to wear at the wedding - still a great look!

But enough of the shopping (Indiadam's exact thoughts), let's get to the actual wedding. We were extremely lucky and go invited to both, the ceremony during the day and the reception in the evening. We arrived at the venue around 9am in the morning to some Indian breakfast and various members of the families. A band was just setting up and final preparations were being made to the stage where the ceremony would take place... A picture is probably better than me trying to describe it :)

Before we could get started though, I had to get dressed. Putting a Sari on is actually very difficult and requires a lot of skill and practice and although Indiadam kindly offered to learn from a Youtube video, I didn't trust him to make it secure enough that it would actually hold all day (which is quite important if it is the main thing you are wearing). So when I arrived and asked for help, three women immediately ushered me to a room to dress me properly. After lots of adjusting with the help of many safety pins I was ready to go.

The preparation for the ceremony was quite relaxed, we met the groom and the bride who showed us the incredible henna she had gotten done on her arms and legs and explained the stories they were telling. Her jewelry and outfit was just amazing and she just looked stunning. The outfit is so different to the traditional white dress but just as beautiful (if not better).

At some point during the preparations, Indiadam got instructed to follow the other men "to get turban done". I didn't see him for about an hour and when he came back he came in a parade of dancing men, trumpets and pink turbans - quite a sight and sound!

The day was a combination of various traditions and ceremonies, some of them with quite a nice and playful touch. At some point for example the groom pretends to leave the wedding just to have to be convinced by the family to come back again. Or for the exchange of the garlands, the couple stand opposite of each other with a barrier (like a white piece of cloth) between then that they have to be lifted up over to exchange their garlands. The main part of the ceremony happens when the couple walks around the fire which seals the marriage. There are so many other parts I could describe in much more colourful detail but it might bore you a bit (and I have to admit I don't understand the meaning of a lot of rituals enough to do them justice). Worth noting is that the band plays/sings live in the background a lot of the day and the ceremony gets interrupted from time to time by impromptu dance sessions. The bride changed from one amazing outfit into another and got carried through the room in this - how cool is that?!

There were also some parts obviously that for us Europeans seem a bit weird, for example the part where the "ownership" of the girl passes from the parents to the husband or the fact that the bride's parents aren't present for some part of the ceremony... What I did admire though is the dedication and importance given to the rituals - so many people in Europe get married in a church and white dress because they like the idea rather than the meaning while the respect for tradition and the importance of the event can be felt in every detail of an Indian wedding.

It did get a bit chaotic at times with people pushing around the stage to get the best photograph - there must have been about three photographers and two camera men there all day. As the whole ceremony part takes quite long, snacks and drinks get passed around all day which I loved (remember, I am a food thief). Imagine someone passing around bag of crisps in the church :)

We left a bit earlier before the full ceremony had finished as we had to get back, get changed and return for the evening ceremony. That is the part where you have hundreds of people, an insane amount of food stalls that could keep you busy all evening and a big stage for the couple to meet all guests. The stage is just put up for the one ceremony and they can be very impressive - here is the picture from the one we went to

I'm not sure how much fun the reception is for the couple as they literally have to stand on the stage most of the evening, smile and shake hands. There is a queue to get up stage so after a while Indidam and I decided to join in. Before we got up, I did a briefing with Indidam of do's and don'ts that I had read up about. While the kissing is very much part of the rituals in any European wedding, the motto of an Indian wedding is definitely "you may not kiss the bride" - not the groom or anyone else. So I made sure I had instructed Indidam to ONLY shake hands with the bride rather than go for a cheeky cheek-kiss. He managed that but then did still manage a faux pax at the photo "booth" which actually was another photographer by putting his arm around the wife of my old boss. Luckily she took it very well but don't think it's the standard Indian photo booth photo...

Finishing the evening off with a few fireworks was a great end to our first Indian wedding. It truly was a special experience so if you ever get invited to an Indian wedding, make sure you go. And even if you barely know anyone, people are so inviting and friendly that you will no doubt have an amazing time. Just make sure you don't kiss the bride.

I want to finish with one more video, not from that wedding but from one of the ones that seem to happen every night next to our hotel and we have a prime view on everything that is going on from our room. And I thought after a month of nearly a wedding every night I had seen it all (massive stages, bands, crazy DJs, Mickey Mouse, bouncy castles). Have a look for yourself...

My lunch is your lunch and your lunch is my lunch

A typical restaurant visit in London for Indiadam and me would usually go as follows: menu arrives we both take a look. I ask: "What are you having?" To which Adam let's say replies "pizza x". My reaction would almost certainly be "That's great so I can have pasta and we can share". 

Why is it relevant how we used to spend dinners in restaurants? The point is that I love trying new food and sharing food. It always felt like such a shame to me only being able to try one item on the menu when there is so much to choose from. So what I liked best was to always order lots of things with everyone and then try a little bit of everything. Turns out not everyone shares that feeling and on various occasions indiadam's answer to my sharing suggestion would be: "But I have chosen this ONE dish and I want the whole dish to myself rather than share". I also suffer from extreme food envy, I very embarrassingly always stare at other peoples plates in restaurants wondering whether I should change my order again and have what they are having... What people find more annoying though is that I am a little food thief. At work (and much to the annoyance of my colleague base), I could rarely restrain myself from picking a chip straight from someone's plate or eating the afternoon snack on their desk. Or if I had finished my dinner but indiadam had some left on his plate, I would just grab another spoonful of his.

Many of you just be thinking that I am rude, annoying and embarrassing (all of which might be true to some extent). But I have moved to India and here I'm just like everyone else!!

In my first week at work, I was quite shocked to see how everyone picks of other people's lunch during the lunch break. People would literally (sometimes without asking) put their spoon into someone's dish, taste it and then compliment them on how good it was. The thing is a lot of people bring home made lunch, either from their wife or cook so there is a real variety of food at the lunch table. Cuisines also really differ across the country so depending on where people are from, the type of meals they bring in is very different. I like to think of it as a small restaurant menu - especially as everyone brings in various small tins with bread, chutneys, salads and curries...

The first times people offered me to try their lunch I politely declined, remembering the angry looks of my UK team when I once again had stolen a chip from someone's plate (they soon realised drenching them in vinegar was a good strategy to keep me away from them). 

But after a while I realised that is it quite normal and started trying bits and pieces. And I love it - I have tried so much home made Indian food and people seem genuinely pleased when you try their food and compliment them on it. Usually no food goes to waste as even if someone doesn't finish what they brought in, someone will chip in to finish it. 

Talking about food, Indians have the impressive skill to be able to eat a proper meal standing up. This might sound trivial and quite easy but when you try it, it actually is quite hard. Of course you can't use a knife and fork but you use your spoon or your hand. When there is a lunch buffet at work, no one will sit down but people stand around chatting and eating. The first couple of times I naturally moved to the closest table, sat down and started eating only to realise that no one ever came and joined me (which could also be due to reasons unrelated to food). So then I decided I'd stand up just like everyone else which required lots of concentration and carefully moving things around on the plate to avoid it going all over me or on the floor. 

By now, I'm proud to say that I have mastered the standing up eating and have enjoyed trying other people's lunches. I'm also not surprised anymore that food disappears from my desk as the office pretty much works on a "what's lying around you can eat" policy. Although I don't bring in my own lunch and can only offer the canteen food to share, I have brought in some German sweets and cookies which everyone seemed to enjoy (although some would not believe me that wine gums really didn't have any alcohol in them).

So as much as the culture here is very different and there are a few things I struggle to adjust to, it's fair to say that now I know that I'm not weird trying and stealing people's food - I was just living in the wrong country. In German there is a saying that "Liebe geht durch den Magen" meaning "love goes through the stomach" (poetic, I know). So my love song to India after the first few months is definitely "your lunch is my lunch and my lunch is your lunch" - sorry Whitney. 

Travelling in India - The sound of stamps

Happy New Year everyone… I’ve been on a lovely Christmas and New Year’s trip back to Germany and am now sitting on the plane back to Mumbai, currently eating some Swiss chocolate and drinking some red wine in memory of much food and wine consumed over the last few days.

Coming to the airport in Germany this morning, I was reminded how different travelling can be around the world. I’m proudly European and a big supporter of Europe in many, many ways. One of them is being able to travel across borders without having to go through the hassle of showing your passport every couple of kilometers. When I was at University, I used to drive on a Sunday night from Germany, through the Netherlands to Belgium and wasn’t stopped once to show any form of documentation (unless some suspicious policeman decided three students in a jam packed small Lupo were potential drug traffickers which can happen sometimes when you frequent the Dutch German border). And I thought that was completely normal (the driving across borders, not the being checked for drugs).

A few years on and I move to London. Over are the days of being able to drive from country to country, I now have to get on a plane. But even worse than that, I have to show my passport in Germany and again in the UK (Ever wondered why you have to show it twice? Surely once is enough!). Not that I mind showing my passport but what I do mind is standing in endless queues and waiting… I get some of the concerns around safety and controlling borders but I think the true reason for the UK passport controls is to make every British citizen feel at home again on their journey home. Whenever we arrived in Gatwick, Heathrow or City, I would be dreading the immigration queue from the moment I got on the plane. Not saying that Indiadam looked forward to it but I could most definitely see his face light up upon seeing an orderly queue. You could always tell the Brits from the tourists – I would keep sighing every time the queue came to another stop after moving forward 1m and me realizing that had missed yet another train home. The “locals” would happily check BBC news and the Sky Sports app, glad to be back on mobile data and standing in a good British queue.

Move forward another 5 years and here I am in India. Not that they love an orderly queue here but I can tell you what they love: A good stamp! When you come to India, leave India or even travel within India, you will be guaranteed various stamps on a) your boarding pass b) the tag attached to every piece of hand luggage you’re carrying c) your immigration forms and d) your passport. I might have even forgotten a few more stamps. On top of that, everyone loves drawing on your boarding pass to the point you might struggle to see the gate you need to go to – see below a photo of my boarding pass on the way back to Europe. So one thing that truly made me feel like I was back in Mumbai was not the smell, not the noise but the melody of constant stamping of various travel documents around the airport.

Other fun anecdotes from my trip India – Europe:

You know how there is a queue and whether it is orderly or not, there is a rule that you don’t jump a queue. Well… When leaving on Christmas Eve Eve (love that expression – for my German friends and family, this is the evening before proper Christmas, i.e. 23^rd), I was standing in the standard queue for immigration, the ones you have everywhere with the poles and removable barriers. Difficult/quite obvious jumping a queue here. Not for the guy about 5 people behind me… slowly but surely he kept moving past someone every time the queue moved (which to be fair wasn’t every often and slow). And then he “overtook” me. If you have ever been on the Autobahn, we don’t like people overtaking us (which is why we all drive so fast) and you don’t mess with ze Germans. I gave him my (according to Indiadam well-practiced) death stare that he first chose to ignore but then had to acknowledge. Next time we move, I move past. And now comes the best part – everyone who before let him go past without a word now starts complaining and he gets passed back… J

Same queue, different queue jumper. After about an hour (!) in the immigration queue, I get to the front. Yay, not far to go until a well deserved drink. Just right in time for some guy to approach the queue from the side, signaling that his flight is very soon and he needs to jump the queue. Fair enough I think, the queue is very long and one can be late to the airport so I give him a little (approving) head wiggle. But I’m wrong, THIS type of queue jumping is not acceptable and everyone behind me erupts into loud complaining to the poor guy. I let him go in front anyway – he can only take a couple of minutes me thinks. Wrong again, he walks up to the counter, gets out his forms and starts filling them out in front of the immigration officer. Based on my empirical studies, Indians have to fill out forms when they leave the countries and foreigners when they arrive in India. After three minutes of filling out the form wrong the first time, I have had enough and walk up to the desk, tell him to at least fill out his forms before jumping the queue and hand over my passport.

The story should continue… she got handed back her passport, had a glass of wine and travelled happily ever after. But it doesn’t. See, I have two valid visas… a business one and an employment one. You’d think two valid visas are good, right. Chose one and let me thorough – I’m clearly here legally. Wrong AGAIN. Two visas need to be checked by at least two supervisors who live in an office far far away…. 1,2,3,4,5,10mins later and still no sight of the immigration lady and my passport (always a worrying feeling abroad). Queue jumper number one can barely hide his joy when he steps up to the counter next to me… Grr

Finally, I get my passport back and hear the sound I’ve been waiting for. BOOM. STAMPED – the soundtrack of travels in India.