Le Journal de +Louise

So I’ve finally decided to return to this space before it’s overgrown with tumbleweeds and spam comments!

It’s finally spring time now in Melbourne, yet, the winter chills are still lingering and the thermostat absolutely refuses to register anything above 18C. It rained incessantly for the past couple of weeks and for the first time in years, the farmers rejoiced and the water catchments in this drought stricken state actually breathed a sigh of relief.

Today is the first tolerable day without the desperate need for a winter jacket, so before the snow melts off the tips of the mountains and the bush fire season begins, here are some pictures from a recent day trip up to the snow.

Still mentally scarred from our first snowboarding experience yonks ago, we decided to take it easy, ride the lifts and enjoy the sights.

The weather was forecasted to be sunny and 21C that day, albeit having to trudge across some very treacherous slushiness at the foot of the mountain, it was an absolutely glorious day.

Note to self: Mt Buller is not a pretty place post 12pm, unless you fancy kicking slush around with a bunch of kids.

So we wandered off to a slightly deserted corner and took pictures with our very own snow man.

Lil’ Jo is only 2 years old and skis like a little pro! Still feeling the shame etched deeply on our foreheads, we vowed to take some decent ski lessons next year.

Future snow trip: Chamonix, France =)

Everyone soon or late comes round by Rome….

Robert Browning.

Trip Report – {Rome 2 Nov 2008}

ROME was the first stop of the italian leg of our Europe trip back in November ’08. We booked our tickets nearly a year in advance with Singapore Airlines; the long wait leading up to the trip was almost intolerable that we vowed to never hunt for air tickets so far ahead in time, unless we are absolutely prepared to live through yet another long bout of wild anticipation.

After almost 23+ hours of air travel, we finally flew into Leonardo da Vinci – Fiumicino Airport at around 7am. The impending adrenaline rush of treading the grounds of the Eternal City was so overwhelming that I was happy to overlook the long, uneventful flight and the inconsistent cabin temperature.

We pre-booked our cab online through RomeCabs and were happily greeted by a round, slightly scruffy looking man holding a yellow placard with our last names casually scribbled on it. Mario, our cab driver spoke very little English but he seemed just as enthusiastic about Rome as us first time visitors were; motioning aggressively at each prominent landmark as we drove past. All the while we were in awe at the magnificent structures that pulled up in almost every corner our little white cab weaved into. The desolate AquaDucts, the barren Circus Maximus, the majestic Piazza Venezia, and we promptly held our breaths and squealed as we caught glimpses of the Colosseum peeping through some Mediterranean autumn foliage.

After a 30 minute cab ride, we arrived at our hotel, Relais Fontana di Trevi. Since our room was not ready, we left our bags at the hotel and went on a mad hunt for an Italian breakfast.

Fontana di Trevi
The moment we stepped out of our hotel and with a slight turn to the left and onto the cobble stone streets of Rome, we found ourselves in a compact square (piazza), awestruck by the imposing sight of the largest Baroque fountain in the city of Rome, surrounded quite tightly by terracotta buildings with brown, blue and white shutters.

Oceanus reigns here upon his shell chariot and the massive basin of water below was filled with coins of those who wished to return to Rome again some day.

Our stomachs were growling as we walked up Via Del Corso. Rome, in its sleepy and groggy state, had only just started to kick off the covers with health conscious joggers pounding quietly on her pavements and the beeping and unloading sirens from delivery trucks slowly stirring her up from a late Saturday night.

We picked an alfresco table at Bar Brasile, overlooking the magnificent Piazza Venizia and had my very first cup of Italian cappuccino and quickly devoured an eggplant Panini.

Piazza di Spagna
The Spanish Steps were a short and comfortable walk from the Trevi Fountain. Designer shops and major Italian labels lined the narrow cobbled streets leading towards the Piazza.

Crowds gathered around and on the steps of Fontana Della Barracia (Fountain of the Old Boat).

Piazza Del Popolo

We wandered along Via del Corso and saw an obelisk in a distance. We arrived at Piazza Del Popolo (The People’s Square) and marvelled at the second oldest and one of the tallest obelisks in Rome.

Pantheon
The late afternoon sun cast a sombre glow against the Pantheon, the oldest standing domed structure in all of Rome. Originally built as a temple to worship the gods of Ancient Rome, since the 7th century, the Pantheon has been used as a Roman Catholic Church. Wreaths of flowers lined the tomb of the 2 Italian Kings, Vittorio Emanuele II and Umberto I who were buried inside the Pantheon.

The dome of the pantheon has an opening, the oculus (The Great Eye) lets in a stream of sunlight into the somewhat dark interior.

At around 6pm and extremely consumed with jet lag, we decided to break all travelling rules and headed straight into McDonalds for a quick bite on via Del Muratte.

Relais di Trevi
By the time we dragged our weary selves back towards the hotel, the crowd gathered at the Trevi Fountain had turned for the worse. It was close to impossible trying to navigate through the maddening groups of tourists and street vendors. Luckily, our hotel is quaintly and perfectly tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Trevi Fountain. Our room was tastefully decorated in baroque wallpaper, complete with a minifridge, a writing desk, flat screen tv and our bags were already safely lined up back to back against the closet doors.

That night, we fell asleep amongst the company of wondrous structures, of ancient gods and dreamt of leather shoes, cobble stone streets, gladiators and the Colosseum…..

After yesterday’s lack lustre practice and a mere 4 hours of sleep, I slowly unrolled my mat, ignoring the dull muscle pain in my right calf, stared blankly into the mirror and wondered if it was worth putting my body through this. An extra 90 minutes of sleep could do me some good.

Almost every class that I have attended, there will be a handful of new beginners. This 9.30am class was no different. Having been coming to class for a while, I can almost smell and pick out the fresh blood.

You know the ones. They circle and gather together at the reception, apprehensively filling in the sign-up form. They waltz into the studio, “thud” as they plonk down their mats, sit cross legged and start to chat. Not just quiet whispers, but real chatty chat. Despite all the dirty stares from other yogis in the room, they continued the loud banter.

I prepared myself for a difficult class ahead.

As the class progressed along, albeit slowly, a new disgruntled yogi stood up while everyone was in a deep Triangle, carelessly rolled up her mat and headed straight out the door. The teacher had to halt the class and persuade her to stay in the room for the full 90 minutes. I wasn’t sure if it was the heat that finally got to her, or that she felt singled out numerous times for corrections of postures and holding off on water consumption.

Ahhh…. First-time dramas. I’ve seen a few of those. I nearly walked out during my 2^nd class. I have always wondered, do these new beginners who walked out of their first class ever come back for the second?

The teacher returned into the room and said, “This might as well be one of the hardest things you have ever had to do. Do not give up, everybody in here was a beginner once.”

I love that mantra. Everybody was a beginner once. No matter how good you are, no matter how long you have been practising, no matter how far you have come, the first time was always the hardest.

When the class finally moved along, it was time for one of the most challenging postures. Toe Stand. Having been practising for almost a year now, I am still finding it nearly impossible to balance on my toes, without collapsing to my sides or feeling the excruciating pain at the ball of my foot.

As with all other postures, the teacher always attempts to coax us to try our best, form over depth, yet all the while being gentle, and patient with the body.

Some people get it right away, some people may take months, some even years.

And with that phrase in mind, I let go of my frustration, aligned my shoulders and took the posture to wherever I was capable of.

All I have to do is be patient. I will get there. Surely. Eventually.

Within these mirror plastered walls, under these unforgiving and glaring fluorescent lights, I have waged countless battles against the person that is staring right back at me.

Mirrors, they’re funny things.

Only up till recently, I have started to accept and even to come to love each curve, each dimple, every bit of unsightly bulge, each wrinkle, each trembling muscle and each droplet of sweat.

This is what I love most about this type of yoga, no pretense, no makeup, no coverups. All 5 foot 4 of me, clothed in lycra and cotton, watching myself stretch, bend and contort. Grimacing during the last few seconds of a pose; breaking a subtle smile after a strong bow; collapsing into a sweaty pile during the floor series. Sometimes full of poise and confidence, but most of the time in a heap of heaving messiness.

I remember telling Leo over dinner last night about how I think I might have finally reached a milestone in my practice. How I could hold Standing Head to Knee pose for a full minute without buckling (not kicking out, yet). How I could reach out and stretch so far during Standing Bow Pose that the mirrors are mere millimeters away from the tips of my fingers. How tall and proud I stood when the teacher called out my name and gave a nod my way for my tremendous concentration. I went to bed excited about tomorrow’s practice.

This morning’s class threw everything into complete shambles. I could barely hold a pose for any longer than 10 seconds every time. My knees quivered incessantly and I toppled sideways numerous times, even causing the poor yogi next to me to lose focus and hop out of a few poses. And just like that, the mirrors killed the ego within. This morning I did not like the yogi in the mirror, I wanted to yell at her and say “I thought you have broken those barriers, I thought you were strong!!”.

As I lied down in savasana, drenched in my own frustration, the teacher said “Let it all go. It does not matter how well or how badly you did. Tomorrow is a new day”.

Yes, let it all go. Nothing matters.

I might have slowly and finally made peace with the mirrors and my self image. Mirrors and egos, however, they still have a long and painful way to go.

I walked the stairs of my yoga studio with new vigour. Today, I have decided to take on a mini challenge.

5 classes, every week, for 4 weeks.

I am well aware of other more intensive “challenges” (30 days, 60 days) proposed by the yoga studio … However, due to personal and work commitments, I can only manage to squeeze in 5 classes a week. For now.

I want to explore how will my body and perspective change after this challenge. I could not wait to see how my limbs, muscles, joints and my mind, handle the consistent pull and stretch of a dedicated practice.

So that makes it 20 classes in 30 days.
Easier said than done.

Oddly, it was a big class for a Friday morning. all 50 odd of us crammed into one small room, our mats were just mere inches away from one another’s. Before the start of the class, the teacher said this class will be “different”. Apparently by “different” she meant that ABC’s camera crew will be camping in the studio half way through the class. Today’s class was meant to be a fundraiser for a member’s two year old daughter, who was diagnosed with a severe case of cerebral palsy. The mother, Karen, a tall blonde, a few mats down from me, used to be an instructor at the studio. The documentary is aimed at capturing bits and pieces of Karen’s life; since she devotes most of her time practising yoga, and, also the fact that our studio helped raised over five thousand dollars November last year, all of us attending class today got a taste of a brief 15 seconds of fame.

In Bikram Yoga, you are encouraged to stay present, looking at no one but yourself in the mirror, do not even blink, laser beam focus, or you might fall over and lose your balance. I welcomed the idea of distraction and tried to utilise it to stretch the limits of my concentration in my practice. However, I did find myself chuckling at the hilarity of seeing a huge furry boom mic hovering below the ceiling right above my chest when I was deep into Camel backbend. Or that the camera man had to wipe his camera lens every couple of minutes due to the extreme humidity in the room. Or that the video assistant, with half of her skirt drenched in sweat, tip-toeing around the studio, carefully avoiding any splayed out limbs.

As we completed the final breathing exercise, I knelt down, touched my forehead on the ground, broke a smile and acknowledged the first day of my challenge.

Come Tuesday, it will be 4 down, only 16 more to go.

Happy Easter.

Namaste.