Monthly Archives: February 2011

ayurvedic ninjas

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my little hut and terrace

Finally warmed through after arriving here 2 days ago unable to remember my own name.  I have a nice little room with a private terrace and a view of the sea. This is not my first trip to an ayurvedic resort, so I was quite prepared to see people shuffling around in dressing gowns.  However, this is the first ninja ayurvedic resort I have visited.  As well as the dressing gowns which look a bit like long grey martial arts kimonos, they are wearing white bands round their heads with either white cloth, or a banana leaf covering the crown.  They also have warrior type markings on their forehead and neck.


The doctor shook her head from side to side and told me that my energy is quite well balanced and my immune system is strong.  She then set about drawing up a  programme to shift my 5% excess of one kind of energy back to where it belongs.  Fine with me as long as that programme includes shirodhara.  More about shirodhara later.  Beena and Bindhu would be in charge from now on.


In the afternoon someone knocked at my door with “medicines, Madam”  and handed me a bag of herbal drugs to be taken before and after food.  The package includes a bottle of bitter brown sludge of which 3 tablespoons 3 times daily. I have taken this stuff before.  Not this time.  It is vile.  I will not take it. I only have to decide whether to leave it unconsumed as a symbol of defiance, or tip a little down the sink each day to feign compliance.


The first “treatment” was a thumping from Beena and a subtle re-arrangement of my skeleton.  Next day, Beena and Bindhu ganged up on me and thumped me again.  When I screamed, Beena would ask “Is pain?”  I soon learn that answering yes to “is pain?” only encourages them to inflict more pain.  You have to suffer the pain to earn the shirodhara. And so, I got my shirodhara.  Warm oil is poured rhythmically on the forehead for about 45 minutes. Very relaxing.  By now it was 8.30pm.  The restaurant closes at 9, and so I had to go for dinner in the kimono and ninja head gear.  I had arrived.

some ninjas snapped unawares

Burns Night 2011 in porkandcabbageland

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Dr. Who always seems to have strange experiences in familiar places.  Burns Night 2011 was a bit like that.  Here in porkandcabbageland there are some fans who organise a Burns Night.  There is even someone who has gone to the trouble of translating Burns into the local dialect.  So, off I went, dragging along my  friend for what promised to be an interesting experience if nothing else.   


There they were, almost 300 porkandcabbagelanders with a smattering of suitably kilted Scottish Ladies with their leader the redoubtable 86 year old Ruth. She had the frilliest blouse as befits her status as chieftain of the waltzcityscottishladies.  We had not ordered haggis in advance and so we had to order from the standard bill of fare.  We had pork.  And lettuce.  The evening started with Burns songs as set by Beethoven, Haydn, Schumann, Mendelssohn and others.  Then the haggis was ceremoniously piped in by the first waltzcity pipe and drum.  Oh yes, they have their very own pipe band.  A father and son. Not Scottish.  


Our neighbours had ordered haggis and we watched them shrink as if the haggis was going to jump off the plate and wrap itself round their head and press their brains out through their ears.  The haggis looked like its normal furry cute self.  However, it was served with mashed potatoes done the porkandcabbageland way – that is to say sloppy, very sloppy, like school dinner semolina.  Turnip is not a recognised vegetable in porkandcabbageland.  There are few recognised vegetables.  So, our haggis and potato flavoured semolina dish was completed with a spoonful of sliced carrots.  Once the first forkfuls of the puddin’ race chieftain were tasted, the fear dissipated and they gobbled it up, as well they should.  


The next part of the evening was mainly Burns songs given the blues treatment and translated into waltzcity dialect. My highlight was one song done in German German, Swiss German, Waltzcitydialect and Lallans.  They have promised us a translation of Tam o Shanter for next year.  My friend went home and ordered Eddie Reader’s Burns album.