No one can create an image of a faraway place for you, as a substitute for the visceral experience. I struggled with the decision of attending yoga school in the U.S. versus India or another foreign country. Since I'm an avid traveller, but also didn't have thousands of dollars to spend, I chose India. I wanted to experience my training in an authentic environment, culturally immersed.
The decision was made to attend Rishikesh Yog Peeth for its location, residence and meals onsite, and expedient responses to my numerous enquires via email. The school offers to coordinate a taxi from the Delhi airport up to Rishikesh for a discounted price and piece of mind that the driver is reputable.
Sophie and I had emailed before leaving the U.S., as we were paired up by the school to share a taxi. I waited for her at the designated spot outside the airport, and we soon found our driver, Mr Tayal. He held a sign with our names written on it, hopefully evidencing the VIP treatment.
After loading the white sedan with our luggage, we set off on our 6-8 hour tour of the Indian countryside. We soon realized that it might take 6-8 hours to exit the Delhi city limits. Honking is a form of the driving culture here, as a warning to your fellow drivers, not as an insult or reproach as in the U.S.
Mr Tayal was courteous and asked whether we needed food or a restroom break. We were both apprehensive about eating at a roadside restaurant, for fear of getting sick. The school had advised us to only eat food from the dining hall for the first few days, to allow time for our systems to acclimate. I had the feeling Mr Tayal was simply trying to provide a cultural experience. He stopped for "sugar juice" and asked if we wanted a glass. I glanced to the left and saw a cane press, reminiscent of the rum distillery I visited in the Amazon. Sophie and I observed as the vendor got up from his plastic patio chair, grabbed a few stalks of sugar cane, and squeezed them through the press. The liquid was plentifully extracted straight into a glass and handed to Mr Tayal. The men chatted as Mr Tayal enjoyed his refreshment. I envied a taste, but watching the process was satisfying enough.
We continued on our way, naturally clogged up in another traffic jam. This time, Mr Tayal impressed both us and our fellow travellers by off roading on the shoulder to bypass the cars ahead of us, honking the entire time. No one seemed to mind. Mr Tayal again provided the VIP treatment as he bounded over the median and passed in the oncoming traffic lanes. Why not? Instead of merging back into the traffic, which was impossible, we stopped in our tracks. Thankfully, the oncoming traffic did the same. We were now stuck in traffic on the opposite side of the median, creating even more of a blockade. Mr Tayal had obviously performed these maneuvers before and wasn't content to wait his turn to merge. He had VIPs with him, after all! He worked his way to the shoulder of the oncoming traffic, now making good time bypassing everyone. An opportunity arose again to work our way to the proper lane on the proper side of the road, so we stuck our nose over the median hoping to sneak in this time. Some frustrated traffic officers approached in the distance. They were carrying sticks that measured about five feet long and might have been a bamboo material. I wondered what they were used for. My question was answered when the officers began slapping the hoods of cars that were blocking traffic! I just imagined the lawsuits that would ensue should the LAPD slap cars with sticks. Mr Tayal seemed concerned and frantically inched forward as the slapping officers approached. I slunk low in the backseat as the inevitable slapping drew closer. Miraculously, the officer shouted at Mr Tayal, giving the hood a gentle tap, as Mr Tayal was forced to turn around, backtracking for a while until we found a spot to merge.
We arrived at our destination, grabbed our jostled bags, and Mr Tayal walked us to the main office to check in. Sophie and I had discussed how to pay our fearless driver, since the cost was $70 and we only had $20s. We agreed that Mr Tayal deserved a $10 tip for ensuring our safe arrival. We each handed him two $20 bills. By the time we looked up from stashing our wallets, Mr Tayal had vanished.
We were shown to our rooms by the lovely and helpful Amit and Ankit. Exhausted, but eager for the start of the course, we ate dinner and retired to our respective rooms for the evening.
