The Alexander Technique

One of the great perks of being at Zorba is taking part in some terrific workshops. I’d already learned an Aryuvedic Yoga Massage with Swami Khirad. This weekend I learned the Alexander Technique as taught by Ashwath Bhatt (second from left), also a trained actor. 

The Alexander Technique is a system taught to improve posture and movement, and to use muscles efficiently. It takes its name from F. Matthias Alexander who, in the 1890s, developed its principles as a personal tool to alleviate his breathing problems. He credited the technique with allowing him to pursue his passion for Shakespearean acting. The technique involves the re-education of what Alexander called "The Use Of The Self", a re-education of our reactions to internal and external stimuli.

We learned concepts such as end-gaining and inhibition. End-gaining means to focus on a goal and lose sight of the process of getting there. In simple walking, for instance, we have only the destination in mind and lose awareness for how our body actually walks. By bringing inner awareness and outer focus to walking, we can correct posture, breathing and body alignment. Inhibition describes a moment of conscious awareness of a choice to interrupt, stop or entirely prevent an unnecessary habitual "misuse." A freer capacity and range of motion result and we experience this more as a state of "non-doing." In stagecraft, I myself teach a concept I call self-collection which is very similar. It is a moment of gathering myself up before entering a character and a song and bringing awareness to my body, breathing and intention.

Ashwath taught us with great humor and sensitivity. I picked up several games and connection exercises from him that I think will be fun to incorporate into my teaching, beginning with my own upcoming workshops in stagecraft at Neemrana Music Foundation and here at Zorba. Ulla Matussek came out form the Embassy each day to join us. We became a tight little group working in this nurturing oasis of nature.

Indian Wedding

Indian Weddings are astonishing. Celebrated for days on end with lavish sets, costumes, fanfare, ceremony, I was lucky to experience one right next door.

For weeks in the adjacent farm, builders had been erecting a structure nearly a NY city-block in length. The peace I’d known in my first week at Zorba was soon dashed by the sounds of hammers and drills that went well into the night. The Friday before the wedding, when we were all assembled for the Alexander Technique, the Ring Cermony was taking place. The volume of noise and music was so high it made our building pulse and the window glass rattle. That night I packed up my bedding and slept in the Heart. The mosquitos were buzzing but it was better than the din. They finally quit their partying at 5am. Nobody in our group got any rest and arrived on Saturday morning fairly fried and so Ashwin went to have a chat with his neighbor. He returned with an invitation for two. We got dolled up in our finery and attended the wedding on Sunday. Being inside the complex was amazing...it was jaw-dropping what all had been created there in three weeks time... a long entryway with hundreds of votives, tropical garden, a gazebo, a main hall, a dining hall and a room for the ceremony. 

They say, "the uglier the bride the bigger the wedding" and since this was mammoth, I was surprised to finally see a fairly pretty bride. Turns out the groom's father is some huge media personality and very rich. I kid you not: champagne and cognac flowed on dozens of trays for over 400 guests all night long. 

I kept leaving Ashwin to go explore and that is how I came to be in the street when the groom arrived. Not sure how it happened but I wound up as part of the groom's party as the pictures and videos reveal. Nobody asked me to leave. I chuckle to think that he'll see me there in all his photographs.

The food was incredible, so much so that Ashwin and I missed the marital ceremony because we were grazing. There was a gourmet spread of veg and non-veg offerings, and the richest and best black daal and chicken butter masala of my trip thus far. The delicacy of the night...goat's testicles. Wheeee, I already had one in my mouth when the handsome man on line behind me told me what it was. Gulp. Smooth and buttery, actually...yummy.

Long live this prince and princess!

Have a look:

Berlin Night

Tonight we celebrated Berlin Night with a selected audience at the German Embassy. We began by reprising our afternoon tea set, songs from the Weimar Republic, with Felix Hofmann at the piano. After a break, I took the stage again with two lovely Indian jazz musicians I’ve found in Delhi and am coaching in the art of cabaret accompaniment - Arjun Gupta on the piano, Nikhil Vasudevan on drums. Sweet.

With vintage posters adorning the walls, silent films playing in the banquet room and sumptuous food and beverages, people were transported to the great city, past and present. Songs included “Life’s A Swindle”, “Mack the Knife”, “Beware of Blondes”, “ Lou Lila”, “Falling in Love Again” and “Tea for Two” in the first set, and “Speak Low”, “Koffer in Berlin”, “Night and Day”, “Libertango”, “I Let my Daddy Do That”, “In the Still of the Night”, “Mood Indigo” and “Lili Marleen” in the jazzy set.

Wunderbar!

The Ruins of Hauz Khas

This is Simar. She is one of the directors here at Zorba with whom I already had contact from New York. She is a beauty with big expressive eyes, a waterfall of long black hair and a free and generous spirit. I've named her Shopping Girl, not because she's a shopping freak but because whenever I'm shopping with her I have extraordinary luck. Having an insider is really the best way to go. They know where to take you and how to handle people once you're there. 

On Monday, we ventured to the old runs of Hauz Khas in central Delhi. In the 13th century, this was an institution of higher learning. Today it forms a rough-and-tumble park and lake where lovers kiss in rocky crevices and now and then a chanteuse drifts through and plays her voice against the ancient stones.

Afterwards, we explored the nearby shops of Hauz Khas, very rustic and not so much geared to tourism. There in a boutique I scored:  two stunning raw silk garments. One is an ivory skirt with sumptuous beadwork, matching top and scarf. The other a black raw silk skirt with a flare-out at the ankle and gold trim. When I emerged from the dressing room, Simar and the proprietress both let out a "wow!" and I took them both. Each is a one-of-a-kind piece that will no doubt make an appearance in this blog at some point. 

Divine Touch

One of the virtues of being here in residence is that I have access to some wonderful workshops. Last weekend I participated in a 3-day seminar to learn the "The Divine Touch" an Aryuvedic yoga massage technique. We were a small group of 11, including our Swami Antar Khiraad, and by the end of the weekend had grown quite close and symbiotic.

We began each morning with an hour-long meditation at 7:00am, then ate breakfast together, then after showers rejoined at 10:30 to learn a particular section of the body, say the back, until a mid-monring tea break. Then more massage until lunch, next the legs, and then on until 4pm. Then we rested until dinner.

Each day futons were spread around the floor and we decorated the floorspace with flowers (always the red rose petal, marigold and yellow wildflower combination). We used sesame seed oil to warm and lubricate the body and calamis powder (from the ginger family) as a gentle abrasive. We each had 3 partners from whom we received and to whom we gave. It was blissful. Where tantric massage is designed to awaken the senses and our sexuality, Aryuvedic massage is a healing massage intended to stretch the body, open the joints, enhance circulation and improve alignment. Swami worked for some time on my pelvis and hip joint, freeing it from residual pain and stiffness resulting from last year's hip accident. Good breathing was a key element in our work.

Naturally, owing to the intimate and peaceful environment we created, no photos were taken f the actual sessions. But here we are at mealtime, after a spontaneous pillow fight and in our final circle where I serenaded the group with Nature Boy.

Hearth Beat

The food at Zorba is out of this world. Always diverse, always full of taste, always vegetarian. A few nights ago, I presented myself to the cooks at Zorba, Maman and Dilip, as Chopping Girl. We were feeding 25 that night and I first tackled about 10 pounds of okra. The Indians call it lady fingers in English and bindi in Hindi. As I looked out the window I realized I was in this moment supremely happy.

Afterwards I cut cucumber and onion for the salad and then hovered around Dilip (also my morning meditation mate) and watched him sizzle jack root in sesame oil in the wok and mastermind the curries.

The kitchen and all its accoutrement is well loved and well used. There's not a spot of copper in it. That will have to be remedied. 

Dheeru drops by. He's head of facilities here and been a part of Zorba for a long time. Handsome, gentle and soft-spoken he shares an Aryuvedic secret about copper. If you're suffering from stomach upset, put water into an unlined copper vessel overnight and drink it first thing in the morning. The metal and water have bonded overnight to provide a restorative and healing liquid. Wow!

Before parting and partaking of our creations that night, I asked my friend Lalit to procure me some ingredients. Lalit has been my tech guru here at Zorba and all-round awesome assistant, helping hook me up to the Internet, arranging for my taxis and so forth. I told Lalit I wanted to bake my favorite cookie...almond with raspberry filling...and needed him to purchase a non-flavored oil, some maple syrup (Aunt Jemima is what I expect to be using), some pastry flour, some almonds (which appear here often in rice pudding and other desserts) and raspberry jam. Then on another day I'll bake Karen's Cookies for the family.

Chef and Chopping Girl

Bon Appetit!

आप का खाना स्वादिष्ट हो (āp kā khānā svādiṣṭa ho)!

Dilli Haat

So much excitement in my first 10 days that I hadn't had any time to shop! And I was getting quite sick and tired of the same few t-shirts and slacks. Time to get in among the people, so off I went to explore Delhi on foot. I boarded the Metro at my stop, Ghitorni, which is a 10-minute walk through the gated community that surrounds Zorba and one of the last stops on the Metro line here in South Delhi. An Indian visiting Zorba informed me that Delhi-ites were thrilled with the Metro. It's clean, fast and efficient, had come in under budget and on-time. That's because it wasn't built by Indians, he said, but by foreign developers.

New Yorkers take note: these trains are awesome...brand-spankin' new and shiny. People behave themselves. Nobody is acting out, begging, spitting (for spitting on the trains or platforms there's a 200rs fine). Of course, there's no entertainment aboard either. In all fairness to my hometown, we'll see how this subway looks when it's 100 years old.

I jumped aboard and saw Delhi from an elevated perspective on my way to Dilli Haat, an open air bazaar where I could find crafts, rugs, pottery, jewelry, paintings, and textiles - especially scarves - from all over the country. A little bit sanitized for the tourist yet charming all the same.

I shopped for a few hours and received a rapid education in bartering...Gak! I'm none too comfortable in that realm. Unless you're in a fixed price shop, the Indians really expect it and I had to act the part. If a scarf is 2000rs, for example, you counter with 1000rs. Maybe you meet halfway, maybe you walk at 1000rs. If you turn and walk away, your price is usually met. Dina, a friendly Brit who saw I was having lunch alone at a nearby table and invited me to join her, told me that Indians have tiers for Western shoppers. They'll charge a Swede something different from a German. With a Russian, they know there isn't any haggling. If you say your from America...God help ya...they know you'll buy anything so you're sunk.

I spent $100 there. In my backpack: 3 raw silk scarves, 1 silk & wool wrap (all from Kashmir and so gorgeously loomed that I couldn't stop fondling them), 1 pair of leather sandals, one pair of jodhpurs, and two small paintings (including a tattered old sketch of Sarasvati, Ganesha and Brahman). Not too shabby for a virgin voyage. 

Dina shared useful travel tips with me and gave me cleartrips.com as the source for booking my travel after Delhi when I will have a week to strike out for Agra, Jaipur, or even Varanasi...

Eventually evening came. I was still on my romp, snapping photos at dusk. Boom, I bumped into something, turned around and...yikes!...a cow's head. Yup, backed right into the holy creature. Cow's heads are large in any dimension, but when the beast is hungry as anything is that lives on the street, it's head is definitely bigger than its body and looks a tad cartoonish. Dina said that every cow in India is owned by someone who feeds them. They may roam through the day, into squares and shops and businesses and out into traffic, and then make their way home. I was tempted to reach out and pet this one but thought better of it. Instead I gave it my best Indian smile and made my own way home.  Nighty Night Elsie...