Byron Bay, is this paradise.....uh, i think so. x
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Thursday 26th feb 09 – Byron Bay
It is 11.15am and I am eating my lunch as I …oops carrot on the keyboard…type. Yes, my lunch. It seems incredible that in 2 just two weeks the board of directors that is my body clock, has given in to the ridiculous timetable that we have to live by with little resistance. We have breakfast at 7.45am, lunch at 11.30am, and dinner at 6pm, then to bed at 9pm.
My hearty lunch today consists of salad leaves with a peanut dressing, grated carrot with coconut and raisins and 3 rice crackers. Yum. No seriously its good stuff. Simple and raw, my ideal diet.
However, those people back home who thought I would turn into some sort of stick insect were much mistaken as at the moment my thighs have a somewhat similar muscular silhouette as a shire horse. Not what I had hoped but I suppose this means I could deliver a mean donkey kick if the need ever arises. Ah… every cloud and all that.
I have just had a 2 hour lecture, in which 3 girls ran out crying and another refused to take part. Pretty good going for a morning session really.
One of the aforementioned ‘weepys’ has just been curled up on the end of my bed like some whimpering injured sparrow for the last 20mins bawling her head off about her confidence problem. Well in my eyes you got to have some sort of balls to launch into someone’s cabin, when they are clearly engrossed in writing a ‘very important document’, and blub all over them in the most unglorious fashion. I did, however much I complain, make all the right noises and gave her a hug.
It is a veritable pit of emotions being here at the moment, as we are all detoxing like mad, que greasy hair and teenage spots in wild abandon, so there are a lot of tears, hysterics and rebelliousness kicking in. I, however, am just trying to keep my head above water, ride the wave, and all those other watery expressions for ‘just bloody well getting on with it’, at the moment. Apart from my infamous unpredictable eye, (which by the way is feeling much better today, after I gave it a good mental talking too last night.) and missing my beloved boy more than I could ever have guessed, I have a strange overwhelming feeling that I am in the right place, and that I was meant to come here and do this.
My cabin mate has just trucked in with a note to excuse her from this afternoons activities, lucky girl.
Anyway must run, got tears to mop and bad jokes to make.
x
It is 11.15am and I am eating my lunch as I …oops carrot on the keyboard…type. Yes, my lunch. It seems incredible that in 2 just two weeks the board of directors that is my body clock, has given in to the ridiculous timetable that we have to live by with little resistance. We have breakfast at 7.45am, lunch at 11.30am, and dinner at 6pm, then to bed at 9pm.
My hearty lunch today consists of salad leaves with a peanut dressing, grated carrot with coconut and raisins and 3 rice crackers. Yum. No seriously its good stuff. Simple and raw, my ideal diet.
However, those people back home who thought I would turn into some sort of stick insect were much mistaken as at the moment my thighs have a somewhat similar muscular silhouette as a shire horse. Not what I had hoped but I suppose this means I could deliver a mean donkey kick if the need ever arises. Ah… every cloud and all that.
I have just had a 2 hour lecture, in which 3 girls ran out crying and another refused to take part. Pretty good going for a morning session really.
One of the aforementioned ‘weepys’ has just been curled up on the end of my bed like some whimpering injured sparrow for the last 20mins bawling her head off about her confidence problem. Well in my eyes you got to have some sort of balls to launch into someone’s cabin, when they are clearly engrossed in writing a ‘very important document’, and blub all over them in the most unglorious fashion. I did, however much I complain, make all the right noises and gave her a hug.
It is a veritable pit of emotions being here at the moment, as we are all detoxing like mad, que greasy hair and teenage spots in wild abandon, so there are a lot of tears, hysterics and rebelliousness kicking in. I, however, am just trying to keep my head above water, ride the wave, and all those other watery expressions for ‘just bloody well getting on with it’, at the moment. Apart from my infamous unpredictable eye, (which by the way is feeling much better today, after I gave it a good mental talking too last night.) and missing my beloved boy more than I could ever have guessed, I have a strange overwhelming feeling that I am in the right place, and that I was meant to come here and do this.
My cabin mate has just trucked in with a note to excuse her from this afternoons activities, lucky girl.
Anyway must run, got tears to mop and bad jokes to make.
x
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Wednesday 25th feb – Byron Bay.
A sight for sore eyes.
I woke this morning at 4am. Well I say woke, more like I was ripped from my dream
by a sudden stabbing pain in my right eye and thru the entire right side of my skull. That’s right folks it was my worst nightmare…. the return of the funky eye.
Just when I had high hopes that it was on its way, out it came back with a vengeance.
At the time I was dreaming that I was about to be unabashedly hurled a right hook by Sarah a rather sweet, if ever so slightly annoying, girl on my course.
Being half asleep I didn’t quite realise that my pulsating virusy friend had once again decide to set up camp inside my socket, so sat up and made two major mistakes. Take heed…..firstly, i rubbed my eye. Hard. Secondly, I tried to open it. This involved wrenching my puffy lids open in front of the mirror to see my swollen, veiny, gecko like eyebulb glaring back at me. As realisation hit me along with my primary thought of “oooooooooouch!” I swiftly snapped it shut again. I sat there in the darkness with only the sound of my Norwegian cabin mates snuffled snores and the sound of my own heart beat thumping behind my eye. At this moment I felt so far form home and my beloved boy, who would normally wrap me in cotton wool at the first hind of a gammy eye, so I did the only thing I could think to do at 4.30 in the morning, I sat and cried.
Im not sure how but I must have fallen asleep at some point, and I woke again at 5.30 to drag my aching, yoga abused body from bed to make my way to my first class of the day, complete with slitty eye.
I scuttled across the garden to the studio and was first to arrive, so I went in, set down my mat and sat relishing the darkness and how forgiving it felt on my burning hot dilated pupil. My thought process went as follows:
“my god im in pain,”
“maybe this isn’t such a good idea, maybe I should just go back to bed”
“now come on sally, I thought we were turning over a new leaf. You know more mature, grown up, able to deal with these things. Its only your eye you have two you know.”
“oh ok ill stay”
This, however, changed as soon as my friend Becky arrived and flicked on the light switch.
The light pierced straight thru my eye and into the back of my head as I dropped to the floor, rolling around like someone had just poured acid on me.
“bloody hell dude whats wrong?”
“aarrrrgh!!! Turn of the light, turn off the light!!”
thus followed a thorough eye inspection, from my dear friend, which involved more poking and prodding and gasps of “ooh”, and “eugh!” and “I know ill go and make you some tea”.
So, sufficed to say I ended up in bed with a dressing gown cord tied around my head like some bathtub pirate, for the rest of the morning, while various caring members of my peer group crept in to see me and see the offending eye.
Each came with words of sympathy and of course an opinion or remedy of some sort. We tried various different eye wear with which to block out the light before settling, in the end, on a pair of sun glasses with a sock taped over the back of one lens. This final idea came after deciding that Siws contribution of a panty liner cut up and stuck to my face with masking tape, was, and I quote “never going to bloody happen” tho I was forced to let her try her idea out as Norwegians are somewhat stubborn and not to be messed with.
So here I am, after soldiering on thru my day, sitting on my bed just about able to see the keyboard on which to type my woes, and I now have to start the endless supply homework we are having trust upon us on a daily basis. Ah the life of a yoga teacher glamorous as ever.
x
A sight for sore eyes.
I woke this morning at 4am. Well I say woke, more like I was ripped from my dream
by a sudden stabbing pain in my right eye and thru the entire right side of my skull. That’s right folks it was my worst nightmare…. the return of the funky eye.
Just when I had high hopes that it was on its way, out it came back with a vengeance.
At the time I was dreaming that I was about to be unabashedly hurled a right hook by Sarah a rather sweet, if ever so slightly annoying, girl on my course.
Being half asleep I didn’t quite realise that my pulsating virusy friend had once again decide to set up camp inside my socket, so sat up and made two major mistakes. Take heed…..firstly, i rubbed my eye. Hard. Secondly, I tried to open it. This involved wrenching my puffy lids open in front of the mirror to see my swollen, veiny, gecko like eyebulb glaring back at me. As realisation hit me along with my primary thought of “oooooooooouch!” I swiftly snapped it shut again. I sat there in the darkness with only the sound of my Norwegian cabin mates snuffled snores and the sound of my own heart beat thumping behind my eye. At this moment I felt so far form home and my beloved boy, who would normally wrap me in cotton wool at the first hind of a gammy eye, so I did the only thing I could think to do at 4.30 in the morning, I sat and cried.
Im not sure how but I must have fallen asleep at some point, and I woke again at 5.30 to drag my aching, yoga abused body from bed to make my way to my first class of the day, complete with slitty eye.
I scuttled across the garden to the studio and was first to arrive, so I went in, set down my mat and sat relishing the darkness and how forgiving it felt on my burning hot dilated pupil. My thought process went as follows:
“my god im in pain,”
“maybe this isn’t such a good idea, maybe I should just go back to bed”
“now come on sally, I thought we were turning over a new leaf. You know more mature, grown up, able to deal with these things. Its only your eye you have two you know.”
“oh ok ill stay”
This, however, changed as soon as my friend Becky arrived and flicked on the light switch.
The light pierced straight thru my eye and into the back of my head as I dropped to the floor, rolling around like someone had just poured acid on me.
“bloody hell dude whats wrong?”
“aarrrrgh!!! Turn of the light, turn off the light!!”
thus followed a thorough eye inspection, from my dear friend, which involved more poking and prodding and gasps of “ooh”, and “eugh!” and “I know ill go and make you some tea”.
So, sufficed to say I ended up in bed with a dressing gown cord tied around my head like some bathtub pirate, for the rest of the morning, while various caring members of my peer group crept in to see me and see the offending eye.
Each came with words of sympathy and of course an opinion or remedy of some sort. We tried various different eye wear with which to block out the light before settling, in the end, on a pair of sun glasses with a sock taped over the back of one lens. This final idea came after deciding that Siws contribution of a panty liner cut up and stuck to my face with masking tape, was, and I quote “never going to bloody happen” tho I was forced to let her try her idea out as Norwegians are somewhat stubborn and not to be messed with.
So here I am, after soldiering on thru my day, sitting on my bed just about able to see the keyboard on which to type my woes, and I now have to start the endless supply homework we are having trust upon us on a daily basis. Ah the life of a yoga teacher glamorous as ever.
x
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Thursday 19th feb 09 – Byron Bay Yoga Centre
Death by Yoga.
Im sitting on my bed in the shed that is my new home. I moved in on Monday which seems weeks ago now as we have been getting up at 5.30 every morning to do yoga as the sun rises, glorious I know but takes its toll after a few days.
It is wonderful. I shouldn’t complain. After all I have paid to do this!
I have often wandered what you are all up to back home (not counting the time difference) while I am contorting my self into positions way too graphic for 5am, and I do realise how lucky I am to be here doing this.
There are 22 other ppl on the course, two of which are men. We are all female, white and between the ages of 20 and 40 which is quite sad really. This is why I am dedicating myself to teaching yoga to black, men, aged 45 and up..…maybe.
The camp/commune is made up of 6 wooden huts all interlinked with a weather beaten board walk that is very slippery when wet and has big frogs living under it. All of which I discovered on day 3. It was not fun.
My room mate is called Siw (pronounced Steve without the T, not Siv which I found out on day 3) and is from Oslo in Norway. She is very sweet and has also had to leave her boyfriend behind so we have something to whinge about together.
I have made a new best friend called Becky who is from Weston super Mare (note: the joke ‘Weston super man’ is not funny or original, I found this out on day 1) who is 26 and a surfer. She is travelling the world and has been living in Byron for 4 months so has shown me all the cool spots to surf, when I finally learn (don’t laugh) and is in the process of trying to blag me a free bicycle from her “hot surf dude” friend, by using such bribes as “my mate needs a bike for 6 weeks can she have yours, shes really nice and got great boobs”. I think that means we are now firm friends.
The yoga is going as well as can be expected. I am already sick of it and feeling totally intimidated with the task at hand. It all seems way too much information to fit in ones head and I ache everywhere, but I am told this is all totally normal and it will all settle at some point. Im dubious, but willing to wait and see what happens, with as little fuss as possible.
I haven’t worn shoes for 4 days now which is a little trivial to some but I know my beloved boy will be very proud of me. I have endured gravel, wet frogs, a few spiders and a hell of a lot of sand in four days and I am beginning to accept and appreciate nature a little more. On several occasions I have found an ant or fly of some sort in my herbal tea and have felt sorry for the poor thing, saved him from his imminent scolding hot demise, to release him back to his pals. Just this morn while I was eating my fat free yoghurt and sunflower seeds, and sipping my chai, a bird came and sat right next to me on the table and gave me a good ole ‘beady eye’ up and down, before launching into the most awesum bird song I have ever heard, right at me. I felt sad that I couldn’t even try to imitate it back to him as I felt he wanted me too, so I gave him a grape instead, which he burst on the table and flew off with. I started to feel like a true earth mother but then automatically the thought entered my head “I wander if they blow up if you give them alka seltzer like pigeons do”. So maybe im not quite mother teresa yet.
Silver, the resident cat has just sauntered in. He has given my new hoody a good mauling and has now set up camp on the end of my bed, amongst my cleanly washed clothes and yoga books. I doubt I will be able to move him all night now, but to tell the truth I don’t really want to touch him as has a rather mean looking tick on his head so I think ill steer clear.
Other than that im fine and all is going well. The food is far too greasy so im living on fruit, yoghurts and rice crackers but hey, what else is new.
Love you lots.
X
P.s pictures to follow soon.
Death by Yoga.
Im sitting on my bed in the shed that is my new home. I moved in on Monday which seems weeks ago now as we have been getting up at 5.30 every morning to do yoga as the sun rises, glorious I know but takes its toll after a few days.
It is wonderful. I shouldn’t complain. After all I have paid to do this!
I have often wandered what you are all up to back home (not counting the time difference) while I am contorting my self into positions way too graphic for 5am, and I do realise how lucky I am to be here doing this.
There are 22 other ppl on the course, two of which are men. We are all female, white and between the ages of 20 and 40 which is quite sad really. This is why I am dedicating myself to teaching yoga to black, men, aged 45 and up..…maybe.
The camp/commune is made up of 6 wooden huts all interlinked with a weather beaten board walk that is very slippery when wet and has big frogs living under it. All of which I discovered on day 3. It was not fun.
My room mate is called Siw (pronounced Steve without the T, not Siv which I found out on day 3) and is from Oslo in Norway. She is very sweet and has also had to leave her boyfriend behind so we have something to whinge about together.
I have made a new best friend called Becky who is from Weston super Mare (note: the joke ‘Weston super man’ is not funny or original, I found this out on day 1) who is 26 and a surfer. She is travelling the world and has been living in Byron for 4 months so has shown me all the cool spots to surf, when I finally learn (don’t laugh) and is in the process of trying to blag me a free bicycle from her “hot surf dude” friend, by using such bribes as “my mate needs a bike for 6 weeks can she have yours, shes really nice and got great boobs”. I think that means we are now firm friends.
The yoga is going as well as can be expected. I am already sick of it and feeling totally intimidated with the task at hand. It all seems way too much information to fit in ones head and I ache everywhere, but I am told this is all totally normal and it will all settle at some point. Im dubious, but willing to wait and see what happens, with as little fuss as possible.
I haven’t worn shoes for 4 days now which is a little trivial to some but I know my beloved boy will be very proud of me. I have endured gravel, wet frogs, a few spiders and a hell of a lot of sand in four days and I am beginning to accept and appreciate nature a little more. On several occasions I have found an ant or fly of some sort in my herbal tea and have felt sorry for the poor thing, saved him from his imminent scolding hot demise, to release him back to his pals. Just this morn while I was eating my fat free yoghurt and sunflower seeds, and sipping my chai, a bird came and sat right next to me on the table and gave me a good ole ‘beady eye’ up and down, before launching into the most awesum bird song I have ever heard, right at me. I felt sad that I couldn’t even try to imitate it back to him as I felt he wanted me too, so I gave him a grape instead, which he burst on the table and flew off with. I started to feel like a true earth mother but then automatically the thought entered my head “I wander if they blow up if you give them alka seltzer like pigeons do”. So maybe im not quite mother teresa yet.
Silver, the resident cat has just sauntered in. He has given my new hoody a good mauling and has now set up camp on the end of my bed, amongst my cleanly washed clothes and yoga books. I doubt I will be able to move him all night now, but to tell the truth I don’t really want to touch him as has a rather mean looking tick on his head so I think ill steer clear.
Other than that im fine and all is going well. The food is far too greasy so im living on fruit, yoghurts and rice crackers but hey, what else is new.
Love you lots.
X
P.s pictures to follow soon.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Saturday 14th feb 09 – Byron Bay
Im sitting on my bed. I say my bed tho actually I am surrounded by 5 others and there are another 6 down stairs and I have just paid 35 dollars for the privelige.
I am in the place I swore I would never go. I am in a backpackers hostel. Eek!
I departed the tiny Jetstar plane that flew me bumpily but quickly from Sydney to Queensland at 6.40 Sydney time. It took me another 45mins to realise that there is a time difference between the two so in actual fact my trip only took about 20mins. Go figure that one out.
So I collected my very heavy bag, ironic as it was 70 dollars lighter after i had paid my excess baggage fee, from the carousel and yanked it to the bus desk to ask sweetly “ one to Byron bay please” only to be glared at by the busty antipodean and told, “we don’t go there”. Nooooo! So I phoned the number that the ‘lady’ so kindly thrust in my face with a courteous “you’ll be lucky if you haven’t got a reservation”. But lo there was a nice lady at the end of this line, and she assured me one would be there in at 8.30pm. Good. Only another hour 45 to waste then. So I spoke to my beloved boy who was back in the 1920’s eating rations of spaghetti, curled in my stinking night gown, missing me suitably.
I didn’t have much entertainment as you can imagine in a small empty airport at 8.30pm on valentines night, in the rain. So I brought my self a relatively light dinner of sesame snaps and a nut bar, which I managed to make last at least 20 mins.
I got my bus on time and actually enjoyed the hour long trip as the mini bus was air conditoined and the driver had Mozart playing in the front, classy.
But oh how it all changed once I reached the quaintly titled ‘Aquarius’ backpackers lodge. Thumping dance music reminiscent of 1994 greeted me as I stumbled bleary eyed (bad eye) and fluffled from my cocoon of classical concertos. And a group of loud cockneys “waahey”ed me as I passed them dragging my 28kg tail between my lags with a sheepish look of “please don’t rape me” plastered across my face.
After hauling the beast up the stairs to the all girls ‘dorm’, with my starched lilac pillow case and top sheet given to me by Lillian the stoned looking receptionist. I entered to find what resembled a ski lodge, or what I imagine one to be like. Wooden slanty ceilings with small metal beds every where, and the smell of the school girls locker room. Kind of like prison but with more pine. I went and found my bed and luckily only two of the other girls were home as I had envisioned the classic first day of school syndrome, trying to find a spare seat and none being offered.
So I made my bed and here I am. Smelling a bit but too scared to take a shower as im not sure what the protocol is yet. Pretty sure I should stop tippy tapping tho as the others have gone to sleep.
Nighty night then, Wish me luck!
x
Im sitting on my bed. I say my bed tho actually I am surrounded by 5 others and there are another 6 down stairs and I have just paid 35 dollars for the privelige.
I am in the place I swore I would never go. I am in a backpackers hostel. Eek!
I departed the tiny Jetstar plane that flew me bumpily but quickly from Sydney to Queensland at 6.40 Sydney time. It took me another 45mins to realise that there is a time difference between the two so in actual fact my trip only took about 20mins. Go figure that one out.
So I collected my very heavy bag, ironic as it was 70 dollars lighter after i had paid my excess baggage fee, from the carousel and yanked it to the bus desk to ask sweetly “ one to Byron bay please” only to be glared at by the busty antipodean and told, “we don’t go there”. Nooooo! So I phoned the number that the ‘lady’ so kindly thrust in my face with a courteous “you’ll be lucky if you haven’t got a reservation”. But lo there was a nice lady at the end of this line, and she assured me one would be there in at 8.30pm. Good. Only another hour 45 to waste then. So I spoke to my beloved boy who was back in the 1920’s eating rations of spaghetti, curled in my stinking night gown, missing me suitably.
I didn’t have much entertainment as you can imagine in a small empty airport at 8.30pm on valentines night, in the rain. So I brought my self a relatively light dinner of sesame snaps and a nut bar, which I managed to make last at least 20 mins.
I got my bus on time and actually enjoyed the hour long trip as the mini bus was air conditoined and the driver had Mozart playing in the front, classy.
But oh how it all changed once I reached the quaintly titled ‘Aquarius’ backpackers lodge. Thumping dance music reminiscent of 1994 greeted me as I stumbled bleary eyed (bad eye) and fluffled from my cocoon of classical concertos. And a group of loud cockneys “waahey”ed me as I passed them dragging my 28kg tail between my lags with a sheepish look of “please don’t rape me” plastered across my face.
After hauling the beast up the stairs to the all girls ‘dorm’, with my starched lilac pillow case and top sheet given to me by Lillian the stoned looking receptionist. I entered to find what resembled a ski lodge, or what I imagine one to be like. Wooden slanty ceilings with small metal beds every where, and the smell of the school girls locker room. Kind of like prison but with more pine. I went and found my bed and luckily only two of the other girls were home as I had envisioned the classic first day of school syndrome, trying to find a spare seat and none being offered.
So I made my bed and here I am. Smelling a bit but too scared to take a shower as im not sure what the protocol is yet. Pretty sure I should stop tippy tapping tho as the others have gone to sleep.
Nighty night then, Wish me luck!
x
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