This post is nearly a week late by now, but on Wednesday night we had our "graduation" ceremony (I'm officially a yoga teacher!), and on Thursday morning, we all said our goodbyes and dispersed--some bound for home in North America, some to continue traveling (or even living) in other parts of Nicaragua. In the next post, I'll start tackling tales of my onward adventures. First, the final days of Yatra Yoga and NicaYoga....
We learned a bit about Thai massage, the best part being practicing on each other. Here, my classmate R is pounding my feet in the Thai tradition, which felt WAY better than you'd expect.
We also had an evening of Kirtan (call-and-response chanting/singing) with a visiting guest, the friend of one of our instructors.
The next day--our third and last day off during the training--some of us struck out south to another of the amazing beaches outside of San Juan del Sur. This time we went to Hermosa Beach, which I loved even more than Maderas because of its ample shade, hammocks, and less-pounding music coming from the speakers at the little beachside lunch area. I had a blissful, perfect day, though two of the people from my group ate some bad fish for lunch and probably don't have as lovely a memory of the excursion, in hindsight.
As we had four, and then two, and then just one meal left at the retreat center, we were feeling highly nostalgic about the amazing meals prepared for us by Maria and her husband Sasha, Russian orthodox immigrants who had no idea what they were getting themselves into when they were hired to make vegan meals for our group for the whole month. They did an amazing job and I almost cried when I dished up my last plate and had to face the fact that my next meal would not be magically served to me when I walked a few feet from the yoga practice space to the dining area.
Okay. Time to say goodbye to yoga training. Just one other story before I go:
On one of the last nights of the program, my two roommates had already turned out the lights for the night when I got back to the room. So, in the dark, I quietly grabbed my bath towel from where I'd hung in on a window frame to dry and headed to the bathroom for a shower before bed. I'd finished and toweled off most of my body when I noticed a dark splotch on the towel and looked closer to find a small-ish scorpion clinging to it. I don't know what guardian angel saved me from being stung when I obliviously carried the towel to the bathroom and then rubbed it, along with the scorpion, all over myself. But I am grateful. Word on the street is that Nicaraguan scorpions are not deadly and the sting isn't too much worse than a wasp's. But still. Yeesh.
