In complete contrast with my sincere desire to scale-down my life, live with less, reduce my consumption and essentially follow a commune-living-mung-bean-eating lifestyle is my passion for excess. More make-up, big hair, false eye-lashes, manicured nails, Swarovski crystals, fish net stockings, high-heels and satin dressing gowns.

I’m kind of Darryl Hannah meets Dita Von Teese! I’m more confused than you, trust me.

Fiona and I departed for foreign shores indefinitely three weeks ago and are currently residing in Kerala, India. Due to my insistence that I pack my tiara and matching diamante stilettos (among my other non-negotiable travel accessories), our baggage allowance was 19 kilos overweight. I bought every pair of cufflinks we own (I didn’t count, but let’s say 30+ pairs), and essentially my entire jewellery collection, which includes the cutest diamante tie necklace (times two, I packed Fiona’s as well, just in case…).

Fiona insisted we mail some non-essential items home yesterday, so I diligently cut my underwear supply in half, agreed to share a mobile phone recharger and take my music folders as carry on. The tiara and the heels stay.

And I kid myself that I’m learning to detach. Hmmm.

So, prior to leaving home to live on under $10 a day, we decided to have one last hoorah with our good mate, Keirah and doll ourselves up for a photo shoot at the Boudoir Boutique. God only knows what I’ll look like by the time I get home, so best we capture our collective beauty now!

I have long been a fan of Dita Von Teese’s inimitable classic style, bringing the sophistication (and naughtiness!) of the past into contemporary society. Anyone who upholds the superiority of seamed stockings gets a tick in my book any day. So when the opportunity to have a vintage make over at the Boudoir Boutique came my way, the three of us jumped at the chance.

My gal pal Elise Gow opened the Boudoir Boutique as a secondary to an already thriving wedding and portrait business, Elise Gow Photography. Elise created the most magical wedding photos for us in January, so when she approached us to come in for a make-over, we were only too happy to oblige, of course!

Prior to the day of the shoot, Elise told us to gather pictures as suggestions for looks and poses that we wanted to recreate. I pulled out my Dita Von Teese guide book, my oriental deep emerald robe, fishnets and heels and was ready to go!

On the day of the shoot, Keirah, Fiona and I brought enough clothes to dress a vaudeville chorus. Feather boas, peacock feathers and corsets abounded! Despite my penchant for over packing, I was fairly certain on the look I wanted to create. I had already discussed with Elise how much flesh I was willing to reveal and with a glass of champagne under my belt, I was happy to bare mostly all in front of the team.

Hair and make up created quite a wonderful and unexpected transformation. Given my current contemporary hair style, I was concerned that they wouldn’t be able to create much of a vintage look with what there was to work with. But my concerns were well allayed by a curling wand, some teasing, plenty of spray and a scarf. Jade was miraculously transformed into ‘Betty’!

We chose a photographic angle that highlighted my better features, namely my legs, and smoothed out (or hid altogether) the areas of my body I’m more self-conscious about, mainly my tummy and upper arms. Although at times I felt a little too revealed in my position, I was comforted by Elise’s keen eye for angles that all of my self-conscious requests would be seen to. And they were.

The day was akin to a dress up play-date at Anton’s (my all time favourite man and shop, but he’s too cool for a website, you’ll just have to find him yourself), in and out of corsets, tutu’s, negligees, short satin gloves, long satin gloves. You get the picture! It was a wonderful girls day out – so many laughs. I felt like a true super star, Ava Gardner style, lounging around in my robe with a champagne while the other girls had their shots done.

Before leaving the studio for the day, Verity (Elise’s right hand woman) showed us some preliminary shots. And, wow! We couldn’t wait to see our final copies. In fact, Fiona and I were so enamored with ourselves we kept our ridiculously outrageous photographic make up on for our evening dinner party!

While I have had the privilege of having many self portraits taken for my work, I have never had any ‘glamour’ photography taken of myself, for myself. I now have some of the most beautiful photographs to cherish when there are more happy wrinkles than photo shop can erase. As one of two, Fiona and I promptly swapped photos and I also have the most stunning vintage shots of my wife to keep forever.

But alas, after all that primping and preening, I now sit facing the ocean from our $6.40 per night, second story beach front apartment, my hair now dried crispy with salt water from my swim earlier. I am comfortable in my fisherman’s pants and ‘Powered by Tofu’ t-shirt, knowing that my diamante stilettos are always within my reach.

Over looking the waves and rocks at Kovalam beach (Kerala, India), I have thought a lot about our short, four and a half day stay at Sivananda Yoga Ashram. Leaving much earlier than our month or two intentions.

We enjoyed the asana classes immensely. The food, though repetitive, was very tasty. The accommodation was spartan but adequate for our needs. We really struggled with the satsang. Chanting I don’t mind, but four hours every day was pushing my limits of respectful observation. By day two, we were being strongly encouraged to participate in worship which neither Fiona or I felt comfortable with.

One of the teachers showed an overt display of frustration and annoyance at several students leaving a satsang early, yelling out to the students that their actions were disrespectful, eventually running out of the hall to retrieve some of them. I’m not condoning anyone’s behaviour in this scenario, the movie we were shown was tremendously boring – a poorly crafted, too-long visual homage to Sivananda, who grew in size, wealth and popularity in each clip. Leaving satsang at any point is a sign of disrespect, though this information is inferred and not made explicit. This event caused no further open discussion the following day from our teachers. This was not the first example of lack of open communication.

Fiona and I talked intensely for two days about whether to stick it out or leave, whether we felt our ego’s were to blame for our inner rebellion towards satsang, whether we could endure satsang for the sake of the wonderful asana classes. In the end, we decided that Sivananda just wasn’t for us, so with some sadness we left on the Friday after having only arrived on the Sunday prior.

We have now been in Kovalam for just over one week and although, at first, we thought it too touristy and western catering, we are now learning from locals and long term residents about all of the little hidden gems of this little coastal town. It is likely we will plant ourselves here for quite a few weeks more.

With so few westerners, it is easy to strike conversation in the street or at a chai stall with the other foreigners. We me Mikey, from the US, while swimming in the beach two afternoons ago. He told me of a lady taking yoga classes in one of the closed restaurants which I attended that same afternoon. Evangeline, from the UK, is offering yoga classes as selfless service and just asked us to put in 20 rupees (less than $1AUD) each to give to the restaurant owner as a sign of our appreciation for use of the space.

Evangeline has been living in Kovalam for the past six months while studying yoga and yoga teaching and has been a wealth of information regarding local eating and shopping haunts. She is a really wonderful yoga instructor and my daily 4pm yoga class followed by a swim at 6pm has become somewhat of a ritual.

There are more and more connections and conversations every day, a type of lifestyle we just don’t cultivate on peak hour trains to and from work in Melbourne. I have always been struck by the silence. It seems a shame, for you never know who you could be sitting next to and how they might help colour the rich tapestry of your life, or how you could impact the direction of theirs.

Written June 2nd 2009

Lying on the red concrete floor under our room fan is the coolest place I can find at eleven A.M. to sit and write my first blog from Sivananda Yoga Ashram, Neyyar Dam. It is monsoon season in India, but we haven’t seen rain yet. The weather has been hot and humid, though not unbearable.

So, Fiona and I are now half way through Day Two of the two week beginners yoga course. First impressions?

The volunteers, staff and teachers are kind but not as outwardly joyous as the teachers we have had in our meditation classes with the Brahma Kumaris in Melbourne. Although we came without any expectations, it is difficult to avoid comparisons with past experiences.

Our room is very simple: two single wooden beds with thin mattresses (surprisingly supportive!), a small balcony over looking the town of Neyyar Dam, a standard Indian bathroom with cold water only and a western toilet – a welcome luxury!

After the first evening satsang (group meditation, chanting, reading and lecture) we were both a little concerned we had walked into some sort of religious transformation! The meditation is very traditional – no guided visualisations, just our teachers opening directions to mind our posture, breathing and thoughts and to repeat an Om, or similar, mantra. We then sit silently for half an hour. This is certainly a manageable amount of time, after my experiences at a Vipassana meditation retreat – ten days in silence, eight hours meditation every day. Extreme meditation!

All satsang classes are predominantly filled with Sanskrit chanting which is foreign to us both. The chants are repetitive and the mantras are sung on only two or three notes. This style of worship is sombre and meditative, literally worlds away from the gospel choirs we experienced in Harlem, New York.

I have found it difficult to be spiritually and emotionally uplifted by the chanting, having joined in with my best attempt at Sanskrit yesterday and today. With my eyes open, I observe our teachers (both of whom are Western) with what I perceive to be expressionless, almost grim, faces. We sing “I am bliss, I am bliss, I am bliss absolute, bliss am I” with most people in the room totally devoid of any outward expression, save some swaying and knee tapping. I now find sitting cross legged on the floor not conducive to concentration once my legs start going numb.

Worship is a very personal and individual pursuit and what works for some will not work for all. However, my feeling is this – few people would be unmoved by the unrestrained outpouring of devotion at the gospel service we attended in Harlem. Even if one is without any spiritual or religious inclination, there is something that is stirred in every person in a room so utterly filled with love – the exuberant singing and music making, dancing and general jubilation.

At this stage, I cannot say I am moved deeply, spiritually, by my experience here. But my guess is that our teachers would suggest that it is not their intention to stir an emotional response in worship, unlike gospel worship. There is a reverence held towards having an indifferent attitude towards stimulus. Yoga and Gospel are two very different types of worships and I am aware that I am comparing oranges and apples to some extent, but both groups of people are devotional and share a similar purpose: union with ‘God’. I am happy to observe my perceptions of both experiences and share them with you!

I am not a particularly pious person, though I have always had an interest in religion from a social perspective. I have my own beliefs and am always happy to share in others practice to achieve happiness, peace, enlightenment, contentment and connection with their ‘God’. It helps me define my own understanding of self and all else.

If I had to choose, had to convert, right now, I’d choose Harlem any day. Tears well in my eyes just remembering the sound of their voices.