Mysore, India Day 3
9 am in the morning and the city is slowly awaking with each minute. The fruit , vegetable, milk, textile sellers are making their way down the street yelling out their merchandise. Since I cant understand Kannada, the local language of Kanataka , to me it sounds something like “haray haray , ganday, anday, aray aray , araaaaaaayyyy” in a pretty high pitched voice. I think it might be eggs. The horns are honking, scooter engines are roaring and the bike bells are ringing. Out of my window I see clothes drying on a line and a gentle breeze blows the sweet smell of incense into my room. The people of this town have certainly mastered the art of finding peace amongst the chaos. I came here to practice yoga and every moment I am here is a part of that practice, a true practice beyond just the physical. Time to get out there and learn from them.
