halfway across the globe to the yoga factory, with baggage in hand (delayed, but better than never)

- getting there.

after a 24+ hr voyage with a delayed bicycle box (this is normal for me, i have an uncanny gift for delayed baggage) and 2 sleepless nights in a quirky (redundant) hostel shared with strange (redundant) people, ants and cockroaches (small babies, but they were not cute), i packed my bike (awaiting the delivery of which was a good half day of saturday's activity) and headed over to the hotel where i would be spending the next 67 days.


- baggage.

i must say, i am quite proud of myself for having left paris with merely a backpack and a yoga mat with homemade carrier. and a big giant bike box. i don't know why i pride myself in minimalist packing. perhaps it is a visual and tangible reminder of simplicity. the simplicity i want in my life. visual, tangible, invisible, intangible, spiri...you know what i mean. simplicity. 67 days. a backpack (a small school type, mind you, not one of those i'm going to europe arei giant backpacks, been there, done that). a yogamat (with homemade carrier). and a 20 year old peugeot bicycle. i finally arrived at the hotel where i would be spending the next 67 days of my life. as i was early, i checked my bag(gage?). parentheses, question mark, because i am not sure if a backpack attached to a make shift yoga mat holder attached to 3 plastic sacks held together by an extra tire can be considered baggage. in fact, the discrete doorman handed me my baggage claim ticket, and on it was written "5 pieces." in fact, when i later went to claim my bag(gage?), another doorman upon retrieving my mass of things strangely bundled together says to me, "wow. you got it to all stay together." not so discrete, but optimistic.

inbetween the baggage checking and claiming, i stood outside of the hotel, watching the guests coming and leaving. baggage (parentheses, but no question mark) coming and going. and i started to see baggage with yoga mats. and more baggage. and more yoga mats. At the hour of registration, a line began to form. which quickly turned into a herd. a herd of yoga trainees. i do mean the herd. 315 of them. i mean, 315 of us. after literally 2 hrs of waiting to register, i entered the yoga room with the fire departments mandatory signage "maximum occupancy 4__" (i will note the exact number tomorrow). a giant yoga room. with miles of lines. and mirrors. and those folding chairs - the kind where you sit on the floor, but there is a back support (what the hell are those called anyways?). a sea of them in a half circle. and at the front, the stage, are a row of regular chairs. and behind the chair, a raised platform. and on the platform, a giant, luxurious, black leather chair. a throne. not jewel encrusted and shiny, but a throne nonetheless. and next to it, a artistic rendition of the one who i assume will be sitting on that throne. correction, the one who will at times be present and i assume will be sitting on that throne, when his busy schedule allows.

since you are now bored to tears, or have long since started skimming what i have written so far, i'll make it quick. all the staff and instructors and the beloved of the one who sits on that throne introduced each other and themselves. and they introduced their baggage. the other kind of baggage. a highly abbreviated presentation of their baggage, the baggage that yoga has helped them pack up for one last time, and leave it behind. or so they claim anyways.

the herd of 315. all 315 of them. i mean, 315 of us. with all our bag(gage). all of us in one giant yoga room. with miles of lined yoga carpet and mirrors. where 315 people with all of our problems and demons and hopes and dreams will sweat. profusely...for 66 days (we did not practice today). a factory of sorts, but a factory nonetheless. a factory that helps people with their baggage. a factory that claims to help you, reorganize, repack, and perhaps lighten the load of your baggage.

i guess that each of us herded into the yoga factory for our own unique reasons. as is their (i mean "our") baggage. it's like at the airport, when you're at the baggage carousel. you see really nice fancy baggage. cheap baggage. broken baggage. dirty baggage. baggage that is so broken that it and the protruding contents have been placed in a special temporary container provided by the airport. some people skip the carousel all together, they don't have baggage. or they have only a little baggage. small enough to be carried on the flight kinda baggage. some people box it. some people lock it up. sometimes your baggage gets lost. at times it is delayed (in my case it is always delayed). you get the point. 315 of us. all with baggage. and some of us, bag(gage).


- the yoga factory.

so i start my yoga monologue. i am critical. i am optimistic. i am open minded. my monologue about the herd of 315. about me. about my baggage. about the yoga factory.