Anahata

"Breathe in deeply. Not like that...
Breathe first into your abdomen and then fill your chest completely with air. When you exhale, release air first from the chest steadily and then away from your abdomen. It's important to practice this until you get it right; each time taking full deep breaths".

"The breath is the bridge between body and mind". I was lying on a yoga mat by Swami Karma Karuna who was instructing me in the art of deep relaxation.  She complained I took 5 breaths to her every one. She termed this fight or flight mode.

Anahata yoga retreat is at the top of a hill about 14km from where Hannah lives in Takaka below, up a long dirt track that winds through sheep fields with the view of the bay rolling out below. The complex is formed of a wooden building at the top that evokes little House on the Prairie, with a beautiful yoga practice room down a path lined with brightly coloured flowers and tropical plants. The room is round and echoes the feel of a yurt, though is a more solid structure, made of wood, with triangular glass windows. Totted around the surrounding land are huts where people can stay, with some more secluded huts down tracks in pockets of cleared shrubs with the beautiful backdrop of the sea.

Shortly after arriving, Hannah and I attended the pre-lunch chanting session.  The other attendees were mostly wearing long cotton shirts over baggy pants and were already prepared, sitting on yoga mats in a ring. The chanting consisted mostly of signing and cantillating sanskrit or hindi songs together as a group. I gained confidence through the fact that I was certainly the most cynical person there, giving the advantage that no one would be judging me more harshly than I judged myself.

For lunch the group eat together in silence. I am used to hippie food since I eat it at home a lot - so that's something that was familiar at least. There were lentils and fresh vegetables from the yoga garden with a hint of Indian spice put together by a group member. Karmic yoga is the discipline of action, achieving tranquillity through selfless service. Members of the group are are encouraged to do daily activities such as making lunch, sweeping or working in the garden to progress in spiritual life.

Soon after it was time for Hannah to go. "I feel like I'm leaving you at kids camp", she remarked.
"Don't leave me here with all these people", I responded to her, mostly serious.
"It's good to be pushed out of your comfort zone".

Yoga, Indian spiritual practice, meditation, Vipanssana... I am both drawn to it and repelled by it. Either because I was still experiencing jet lag or a need to hibernate from the baggy pants, smiling faces, gentle voices and "oms" of salutation, I fell asleep for several hours, with rays of sunshine gushing through the window. I slept through dinner, and when I awoke, someone had left me cold tofu soup.

It's easy to be cynical of alternative therapies, but at the same time, Western traditions do not have a monopoly on knowledge. It is also true that the Western approach is not very holistic, or doesn't appreciate the connection between mind and body.

In my private session, Swami Karma Karuna had told me the most important practice for me was yoga nidra. From California originally, she started the centre from scratch 28 years ago, and she specialises in treating people with chronic fatigue. It's easy with an ongoing condition to ignore it, to do as much as you can with it, to carry it with you everywhere, to be slowed by it, but never to focus on it.

Yoga nidra or "yogi sleep" is a sleep-like state which yogis report to experience during their meditations. Yoga nidra, or lucid sleeping, is among the deepest possible states of relaxation while still maintaining full consciousness. Only through this deep relaxation can you develop your prana or energy. Prana is the sanskrit word for "life force".

The first Yoga Nidra group session did not go well. I lay down, trying to concentrate where the teacher was guiding our minds, but my jumper itched, my leggings were too tight, I got a twitchy leg, and the impulse to wriggle and shuffle was irresistible. I took this to mean that I was not yet ready for the yogic zone, unable to keep still from London life, and that maybe this practice would be good after all.

The camp practices silence from 8:30 at night until 8:30 in the morning. It is interesting and not unpleasant being in company and completely silent. It was strange to wind down and hear the hum of nothingness as we went to sleep up on this hill in the rich natural surroundings. We were up at 5:00 for the morning session of deep relaxation, following by a much needed active session of hatha yoga.

In the next yoga nidra practice, I already felt a vast improvement. I entirely relaxed and almost fell asleep. I think partly the teacher was a lot better and more experienced. Yoga nidra also incorporates a similar principle to hypnosis. You can get into a deep state of relaxation halfway between wake and sleep. the mind is a lot more receptive to taking in information at this halfway point. This is when you repeat your sankalpa.

Sankalpa (संकल्प) means conception or idea or notion formed in the heart or mind, solemn vow or determination to perform. In practical terms, it means the one-pointed resolve to do or achieve; and both psychologically and philosophically, it is the first practical step by which the sensitivity and potentiality of the mind is increased; it is known as the capacity to harness the will-power and the tool to focus and harmonise the complex body-mind apparatus.

Your sankalpa or aim has to be something focused and realistic, though rather than something specific like "give up smoking", it should be broader and incorporate more, like, "become healthier each day".

I felt more settled by the time I was due to go home. It would take months of yogic practice in that environment to see the full effects of it. But if nothing more, a few days at Anahata provide the chance to think about health- the nutrition in your diet, the products you put on your skin, the surroundings you live in and the connection between mind and body.

Takaka - Golden Bay

Waking up I can hear birds instead of a bustling city and the gentle clatter of rain on the roof of Hannah's art studio where I'm sleeping.

12 years have passed since Hannah, a family friend, came backpacking here and never left. It seems she is not alone, as this town attracts quite a few seeking a more laid back, organic and community led existence. Her choice always represented a kind of freedom away from the humdrum of our overpopulated island of busy workers and must do rules.

Takaka is a one horse hippie town, with whole foods and housing Hannah's art gallery. Hannah and her family live in between the boat that Daniel built and the outskirts of town in their modest abode with big windows, billowing with Hannah's unique artistic taste.

Hannah and Daniel have 3 children with beach blonde hair. Mya stands firm as the oldest, Noah is a sun kissed and curly haired Tarzan, and Tilly squeaks and giggles happily as her 5th birthday approaches tomorrow.

Arrival - Another 3 plane journeys later

Emirates kept it quiet that the plane stopped in Brisbane for a couple of hours on the way into Auckland. I then had to wait 3 hours at Auckland International Airport for my transfer to Nelson. After 30 hours of travelling, I'm finally here. If the world wasn't round, I'd feel I'd reached the end of it.

The luscious greenery from the plane window stood in stark contrast to the dusty streets of Dubai. One of the most treasured moments of travelling is taking those first steps from the airport door and allowing your senses to experience something new. You can taste the recently fallen rain in the air and study the shape of plants you've never seen before- plants that here are a delicious fusion of forrest and the subtropics.

It was a relief to see Hannah finally and her daughter Maya waiting for me as we picked up my bag from the aircraft trolley.

You will all have to visit me here from now on because I don't think I'll get on a plane again.

The Towers and the Tourist

The doorway leading out of Dubai International Airport presents a post-apocalyptic world of extraterretrial 50 story buildings jutting out of dry and dusty earth.

The metro is like a $million glass bullet that guides passengers seamlessly from North to South; however, straying from this route by public transport is near impossible. Despite the well-known multiculturalism, I could feel many eyes on me - wandering and resting eyes.  The fashion is clean and neat, chanelling millennium meets upmarket Ibiza.

Too awake to sleep but needing to relax, and feel less of a moth in a butterfly sanctuary, I visited the nail bar at the bottom of Nibby's apartment. I had the day to myself until he finished work. As I was waiting, a person on a Segway whizzed part.

Dubai was't what I expected. I imagined glass materialism uniting with showy architecture and desert heat. I was surprised by how big and sprawling it is. I had no idea so many 100s of 1000s of humans could live on the 36+ floor. To get from place to place you can cover quite vast distances. It isn't like London where everything gravitates to the city centre like the centre of an atom.

Before meeting Nibby that evening, a friend from SOAS, I visited the famous Dubai Mall. In most ways just a regular but very large Blue Water, it sported the addition of a sky high waterfall and worthwhile touristic water light display over the flashy lake. Distinctive Emiratis in white traditional Bedouin robes were strolling into Cartier amongst ice-cream eating kids and trainer wearing teens.

I met Nibby and his friends in the Palm Beach Hotel before heading out to another complex to a bar. The Dubai night scene is generally a meat market of boob jobs and Gucci handbags, with posing and peacocking... night clubs and bars are only allowed in hotels which allows for little variation. Expatriate women teeter around in heels and little else within the complexes, but it's advised to cover up outside, and similarly drinking in these venues is fine, but you can get arrested outside for being drunk. The country carries these antithetical realities of East and West, debauchery and decency, liberalism and conservative Islam. Amongst the varied demographic, as described by a local, is a fairly defined hierarchy of race with local Emirates (15%) at the top, followed by other Arabs from Iran, Iraq and recently Syrians who have fled the trouble, with Westerners close behind, then Egyptians and then other expatriates from Asia and so on.

The next day we again met at the Palm Beach by the pool and began the unwind into the calming setting of privilege and sunbathers with green Arabic coffee and locally grown dates. Nibby's other friends arrived and they got lost at the pool bar for a while. Sadik doesn't drink, so we lounged on the beach, with hot sand underfoot and the backdrop of the world's most exclusive hotel.

At about 3pm we headed to Deira, the old part of the city, with one purpose: to visit the fish market and purchase dinner.  As we weaved in and out of the busy tables of fresh crabs, wiggling lobsters, carved king clip and piles of prawns, I was grateful to not be there as a lone tourist. You take your bag of fish to be cleaned in another section, before moving on to another joint where it is spiced and grilled. We then took our trappings to a further venue to be eaten. The grimy popular eatery spotted with plastic tables, together with our delicious locally caught fresh food, brought humble relief from the ostentation beyond.

                                     

"Let's go to the market", Sadik announced.
"What's at the market?"
"I need to get my mum some oppressive clothing".

Never having shopped for abayas, hijabs or niquabs before personally, this promised a new experience. Amongst the stalls we were met with spice shops and sacks overflowing with frankincense, sumac, zaatar, cinnamon, cloves, and other aromatic spices, and shelves lined with everything from henna shampoo to tiny boxes of saffron. Inside the small tailors, routing through variant designs of black abayas (long black robes without the hijab neck scarf or niqab which covers all but the eyes), I asked Saddik, "why doesn't your mum get these in the UK" where they live? "You can't easily get them there", he explained, and "my mum has classy taste. Her friends always comment on her excellent abayas chosen by her son in Dubai". The abaya is traditionally completely black but today, you might see some with colorful embroideries around the collar, buttons or on the sleeves. Furthermore, these days, the younger generations of Emiratis like to wear fitted abayas when these were originally designed to hide or prevent from revealing physical shape.

I had an early night, having to get up for my flight the next day. Again met by the experience of antithesis, the dual sensation of being quite ready to leave and wanting to stay and have more fun, I departed for New Zealand.

Thanks Nibby and Sadik - I am grateful to you for showing me the city as you experience it - and for your humour along the way.