I EXPLODE into action, enthusiastically getting my preparations underway.
One week before my departure, the princess has a request. Would I be prepared to stay on in Cape Town for an extra month to take a yoga course so that I can give her lessons? Although a request, I cannot say no. Anyhow, I am secretly delighted as it affords me an extra month in Cape Town. I re-rent my garden cottage for a month.
The hunt for a yoga studio begins. My body has not seen exercise in a while, so, with great trepidation, I enrol. I give them brief details of what is needed and they work out a schedule for me. What I know about yoga is sketchy so on my first day, my instructor hands me some books on the subject and a very large manual to work through. I’m excited but uncertain I can do it. I decide to, quite literally, go with the flow.
My first class, Vinyāsa, takes me by surprise it is so enjoyable. My body feels light and supple the rest of the day. The next day my second class, Bikram – hot yoga – is sheer hell. The heat is unbearable. Sweat pours down my face and drips off my chin. I come out drenched, wrenched and seeing stars. Apparently I am cleansed from the inside out. My glowing skin encourages me.
A month down the line, I’m a lot more agile, and wiser in the ways of the yogi. The manual had seemed insurmountable but I’ve worked through it from cover to cover. My test is to present a 15-minute class to the teachers while they critique me. I’m given the all clear. I’m good to go!
Between the many send-off parties with different groups of friends and the more sobering requirements for my visa – medicals, inoculations and police clearance – time blurs.
At the very last moment, I remove my belly ring, with its delicate cross, and replace it with a little ruby. We‘ve come a long way and I feel quite naked without it. The princess has made it clear: Bibles and crosses are banned in the Magic Kingdom.