Today was Arombol. A small town north of Ashvem, where I'm staying, which is where, it would appear, all of the westerners are in this area. Sarah and I walked along the shoreline for over an hour to get there and whilst it was a nice (hate that word) thing to do, I'm not sure it was worth the walk. I say that of course with the wisdom of hindsight as I now know it is only a 250 rupee taxi ride away (about £4). It reminded me of the floating markets in Bangkok. Lots of tourist toot, which all looks wonderful in the sunshine when you're wearing your holiday goggles, but in the stark, grey reality of the English day light it's a very different story. I managed to resist buying a bongo drum and Tibetan singing bowl, both of which I've been after for some time now. This might sound very austere and disciplined for me, but the reality is that Wednesday is market day in Anjuna, a town further south and I think they might have a bigger choice.

Yoga today was less about floating into the postures and more about creaking. Those tight side stretches yesterday certainly made themselves known to me today and the afternoon session opened my hips in places I didn't even know were possible. The relaxation sessions are out of this world. I can practically feel myself floating. My fingers and toes tingle as soon as I'm in Sarvasana. Its lush. In the world according to Guruji Ravi, my energy vibrates at a higher level than other people. This isn't something new to me. I've known this for sometime, but nonetheless it was good to hear right now.

As well as being the day of Arombol, it's been the day of some very interesting conversations. With both Sarah and Pam. Both ladies have led very interesting lives and continue to do so. In a very short space of time, valuable life lessons have been shared.

And it's only Monday...