1. 7h10 am - Não dormi quase nada no autocarro. Ao trocar de metro, oiço um clarinete a tocar parte da OST do Lord of the Rings... Até fiquei com pele de galinha. Instante de felicidade...
2. Me encanta Malassaña: O Sol da manhã nos telhados, reflectindo-se nos edifícios amarelos e cor-de-tijolo.
3. Almoço - Sopa de abóbora com sementes de sésamo, sumo de cenoura e creme de yogurt com mel, amêndoas e canela. E ainda há quem ache os restaurantes vegetarianos aborrecidos??
4. Passo na Pelu de Ivan - Madrid oblige e o estado dos meus apêndices capilares também. Inconfundível no seu penteado Mohawk e braços completamente tatuados (correcção, os cotovelos não). Desta vez, não houve momentos de ironia, devia estar distraído com as obras no salão/loja. Após as saudações iniciais, disse-lhe que já estava à espera de sermão. "Porquê?" "Usei trancinhas à africana mais de 2 meses, tenho o cabelo todo a cair..." "Problema teu." Capisce?
5. A música indiana do CD Casa do Castelo dançada no 1º dia do Tantra... Para quem pensa que Yoga é só cantar Om sentado em posição de Lótus :) A dança chama-se Bangara (e hei-de aprender!).
6. Horror - banda de rock no metro, purposeful and not bad mas, depois de 3h de estiramentos, asanas e mantras, é como se me estivessem a dar com uma panela na cabeça.
7. Deliciosos crepes! Espinafres e bechamel e de sobremesa, um de mel e amêndoas. E eu nem gosto muito de mel...
Showing posts with label White Tantra. Show all posts
Showing posts with label White Tantra. Show all posts
May 13, 2006
March 17, 2006
No man's land - March 9
I still haven’t checked the new airplane rates with Vueling (thanks anyway, Madalena) so last Friday, at 9.30pm, I took the bus to go to the White Tantric Yoga seminar in Madrid.
The good thing about the bus is I can get in in Setúbal and come back directly home too. This time I even had a bit of VIP treatment as the bus came to Setúbal only to pick me up and same thing on the way back.
The bad thing is you can never sleep properly even if it's the night bus as on each stop everybody must leave the bus "for security reasons" (ok, there are only 2 per trip. Still...).
And so it was that I arrived to...
Location: No man's land, somewhere just after (or just before depending on which direction you’re going) the border between Portugal and Spain, 25kms from Badajoz.
Time: Just when I had finally managed to fall asleep, ie round 1 o’clock.
The bus stops at the usual place, a gas station/truck night stop/restaurant-cafeteria. I’ve been there… a dozen times…? And I still don’t know the name of the place.
The management has changed, I think, no more paintings on the wall and the maids have changed, these are even more unpleasant than the others…
I can’t stand the smoke and don't really feel like asking anything. By the look on their faces, most of my travel companions are in the same state of mind.
We'd rather be sleeping but we force a smile and ask for a tea, a coffee, a latte... And we repeat the request, of course, as they never understand your accent. It's normal, the border is more than 30kms away...
Back on the bus, the lights are still on, a mobile starts ringing and rings and rings... After more than 40 secs (or so it seemed, even 10 secs it's an awful lot with some of these politones), my brain cells are all yelling: "Will you answer that or shut it off, please??!!"
The driver answers. Oh, it's ok, he even smiled when I got in so I excuse him and cover myself with my coat , trying to go back to sleep.
Next month, I'll make sure to check the Vueling site...
The good thing about the bus is I can get in in Setúbal and come back directly home too. This time I even had a bit of VIP treatment as the bus came to Setúbal only to pick me up and same thing on the way back.
The bad thing is you can never sleep properly even if it's the night bus as on each stop everybody must leave the bus "for security reasons" (ok, there are only 2 per trip. Still...).
And so it was that I arrived to...
Location: No man's land, somewhere just after (or just before depending on which direction you’re going) the border between Portugal and Spain, 25kms from Badajoz.
Time: Just when I had finally managed to fall asleep, ie round 1 o’clock.
The bus stops at the usual place, a gas station/truck night stop/restaurant-cafeteria. I’ve been there… a dozen times…? And I still don’t know the name of the place.
The management has changed, I think, no more paintings on the wall and the maids have changed, these are even more unpleasant than the others…
I can’t stand the smoke and don't really feel like asking anything. By the look on their faces, most of my travel companions are in the same state of mind.
We'd rather be sleeping but we force a smile and ask for a tea, a coffee, a latte... And we repeat the request, of course, as they never understand your accent. It's normal, the border is more than 30kms away...
Back on the bus, the lights are still on, a mobile starts ringing and rings and rings... After more than 40 secs (or so it seemed, even 10 secs it's an awful lot with some of these politones), my brain cells are all yelling: "Will you answer that or shut it off, please??!!"
The driver answers. Oh, it's ok, he even smiled when I got in so I excuse him and cover myself with my coat , trying to go back to sleep.
Next month, I'll make sure to check the Vueling site...
March 06, 2006
Avisos à Navegação
- Quinta vou para Madrid. Tenho um seminário de Tantra Yoga. Antes que comecem com ideias, vejam o que é.
- Comecei a tirar as minhas trancinhas. :( 'Tou triste, gostava mesmo delas.
a) Quem não as viu, terá que contentar-se com as fotos.
b) Meto medo ao susto, por isso, não esperem ver-me antes de regressar de Madrid, depois de uma visita ao meu espantoso e sempre espirituoso cabeleireiro Ivan.
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