Gosh, it feels good to teach again.
And it feels amazing to participate in the classes of others. I haven't consistently taken yoga classes since... since, well, my teacher training back in 2011. Most yoga classes are just too expensive for me to participate in. So this will be such a good opportunity for me to expand my practice. Holy bananas.
I have acquired dozens of mosquito/gnat bites, even though I am incessantly, obsessively smearing all exposed body parts with citronella bug balm. Many of the bites probably take place when I'm otherwise occupied and vulnerable on the toilet or in the shower.
The water pressure in the outdoor shower is nothing to blog about, but the heat has been a happy surprise. The Yoga Forest operates entirely off of solar energy, so when the sun is shining, we get hot showers and internet. And when the sun doesn't shine, well... we are sad, cold, wifi devoid hippies.
I've started checking all layers of blankets for scorpions and spiders before I tuck myself into bed at night. My circus tent home has been torn in several places, and all manner of creepy-crawlies can (and do) easily slip inside through the haphazardly taped together material. And through the Velcro door that doesn't quite close all the way. Sometimes I enter my tent to find an enormous spider squatting next to my mattress on the floor, waiting for me. I attack with my shoe, but it simply slips between the gigantic cracks in the floorboards. Out of sight and very much in mind.
I go to bed every night thinking, It's okay, Bourget. Scorpions in Guatemala have a sting a bit worse than a hornet. You're not going to die.
Something skitters across the floor, shadows dancing in the light from my headlamp.
You ARE NOT going to die.
Then I smear my face with another layer of bug balm and draw the mosquito net over my torso and try to forget about the formidable spider underneath the floorboards.
Last Sunday, I attended my first cacao ceremony. Complete with ecstatic dance and didgeridoos. I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into, but I figured, hey, a cacao ceremony would probably include some variety of chocolate. And, well, Girl doesn't hate chocolate.
All attendees sat in an... umm... sacred circle as cups of thick cacao were passed around. We meditated over the fragrant cacao. We slowly sipped the spicy, rich, sludge as an older hippie with grey dreadlocks began to play the didgeridoo. Shoulders began to roll back and forth, wrists began to swivel, heads began to bob.
How is this different from a normal dance? I thought, doing my best to keep an amused smile from tugging at my lips.
Lots of yoga pants. Lots of thai fisherman pants. Dreadlocks. So many dreadlocks. Hippie tattoos. No grinding. No acknowledging the rest of the dancers, even. Everyone is in their own little world. Oh god. The smell. The hippie stench. The rancid smell of natural deodorant not working. Dogs getting into spats all over the dance floor. People doing pigeon pose. Just sinking down into it right in the middle of everyone.
...
Give me an Irish pub and a Bulmers any day.
Ceremonial grade cacao (I don't even know what that means) has been used for centuries to unlock euphoria. To release negative energy and... ummm... open the heart?
There is a smidgen of science behind all this hippie cacao business. Which I always appreciate. The theobromine found in cacao facilitates the release of dopamine. Which feels nice for everyone. It also contains a compound called phenethylamine -- which can help relieve stress and depression.
Still. Irish pub. And a Cadbury. Any day.
Since there are six volunteers at the moment, I teach three classes a week and "space hold" for maybe twenty hours or so. Space holding involves hanging out here, making salads and greeting visitors. As there aren't so many visitors and the salad takes only an hour to make, I spend most of my time reading and playing Teal Cecile.
Certainly can't say they're overworking me this time...
I think I'm getting sick again. Which was one of my main fears about returning to the Yoga Forest. Even though I'm washing and disinfecting my hands regularly, am only drinking filtered water, and am eating very few raw fruits and vegetables... I seem to have caught a parasite.
Which is fun.
I was awake nearly all night last night, tossing and turning on my mattress in excruciating stomach pain. Roiling, broiling gut turmoil. Pain that spread to my whole torso and penetrated my joints with a deep, heavy ache.
This. Doesn't feel fair. I've been so good. Trying so hard to not get sick. Ach.
And since I don't have sulfur burps, I don't have giardia. So it isn't an easy fix. I'll have to find my way to a clinic, get a stool sample taken, and figure out what the hell is happening inside my battered body.
woohoo...
Bourget. Here's the deal. If you're sick for most of this month, leave this place. Go to Antigua to study Spanish. Being sick for an entire month isn't worth your 300 dollar deposit. Not even close. Do your best to fix this, to take care of yourself... but don't linger in a place that makes you unhealthy. Period.
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