Island Nights

Once again the vultures are hungry.  But alas, one has to get through the optional 90 minute yoga class and/or evening massage before dinner is served - plate-by-plate.  Kimberly sits waiting for her yoga students in a beautiful studio.  Overlooking the ocean, the studio will soon be illuminated solely by the sky that is bursting at the seams with stars.  One-by-one exhausted, hungry yogis take a seat on their mats, following the instruction to close their eyes and being turning their attention inside, class begins.  90 minutes later the same yogis emerge, completely serene and with a hint of a smile on their faces - a familiar look for anyone that has had the luck of studying with Kimberly.  One of the English gals who had been studying Iyengar yoga for the past three years and who has suffered debilitating wrist and neck pain, slides into her seat next to me at dinner with palpable excitement - "I did my first handstand!" she exclaims much in the same manner my 4 year-old nephew relays a story of one of his latest conquests!   Kimberly might be one of the most talented yoga teachers I have had the privilege to study with to date.  An encyclopedic knowledge of anatomy, a steady but firm voice, and a healthy sense of humor Kim is able to elicit things from you that you either didn't know you were capable of or that you didn't even know you knew.

"It's official SHER-lee and I are dating!" Kristina, Kimberly's childhood friend comments as she slides into the seat on my other side.  SHER-lee (actually Shirley but pronounced with a Brazilian accent it morphs into SER-lee for the international guests) is the resident masseuse that speaks no English and has a reputation that precedes her.  After beckoning Kristina into the massage room, where two ladies are already mid-massage, SHER-lee uses sign language to inform Kristina that it is time to 'drop trou' here in the middle of a room with five other people.  Hesitant but more in need of a massage Kristina disrobes and takes her place on the table.   From here, Kristina face contorted in a look of total befuddlement, relays how SHER-lee used a rather unique assortment of massage techniques that fell somewhere between feeling like 1000 tiny ants were crawling over your body, to great sweeping strokes, to feeling her blow on your palms, neck and bottom!  "If nothing else" Kristina exclaims, "she is thorough, she didn't miss a spot!  What do you suspect blowing on one's bottom is suppose to do?"  By this point I have tears streaming down my face as the English girl whose initial glee at her first yoga inversion,  is rapidly replaced by utter horror...her massage is next!

Dinner today is another classic Brazilian dish - Moqueca or seafood stew.  Adriana has adapted the stew to make it 'more fitting' for our present needs (dietary detoxification!), she has substituted water for the fatty coconut milk and is using a lighter oil than the one that dish typically calls for.  Despite the modifications or maybe in spite of them, it is delicious!  And even though the portions are still smaller than most would like, and there is no dessert to follow, everyone seems happy.

After dinner there are optional activities for those who can fight off the sleep that comes calling after such an active day for a little longer.  One night there is a capoeira lesson ( a Afro-Brazilian art form that combines elements of martial arts, dance and music) followed by a professional demonstration.  Other nights there are demonstrations of typical Brazilian dances including the Samba, and Forro, which causes one guest to begin a running commentary.  "Oooooh my! Look at her little bum.  Look at how they move their hips!  It's quite saucey isn't it?  Bit like foreplay!  I am embarrassed to watch but I absolutely can't stop watching them...how come we can't move like that?"  Again tears begin streaming down my cheeks - not just for her commentary which does strike me as funny but more because she is English and after having lived in London for many years, I am all to aware of the way the Brits try and move it on the dance floor.  This image strikes me as even funnier and now it is all I can do to contain myself.

When I am finally able to regain control of myself, it is time to make the starlit trek back to our seaside bungalows.  Crawling under my mosquito net, which Cece has decided makes our beds fit for princesses, I slip into a deep sleep as I begin dreaming about my return to the island...