Purple Valley

Retreat is a suitable word: you barely need to step inside the gate and trip down the path into the landscaped garden, and you leave India way, way behind. Purple Valley Yoga is quite the most sublime place I've ever had the pleasure of staying in - and after nearly two months of intense India, very welcome. I didn't set foot outside the gate again for five days and when I did, the noise, the dust, the colour jangled my nerves and saturated my senses all over again. And that was just sleepy Goa. I'd been de-India'd in a jiffy.

Our days went like this: Ashtanga yoga from 7am til 8.30am, which left my hamstrings screaming, sweat dripping off parts of body I didn't even know produced sweat, and my body wiped out, at least for a few days. Our teachers were Jeff and Harmony Lichty, a gorgeous, inspiring Canadian couple with eye-poppingly bendy bodies and a deep knowledge of yoga in its widest sense: as a way of life with many other branches aside from the postures, or asanas, you do on your mat. So as well as getting my stiff body moving again, the classes provided spiritual lessons on how to live a better life. Jeff, a former paramedic, is a natural comedian and if ever he sensed anyone was taking the yoga too seriously, he would throw out a silly joke and make us all giggle.

They studied in Mysore under Mr Ashtanga himself, Sri K Pattabhi Jois. Now in his mid nineties, Pattabhi Jois (aka, Guruji) turned millenia-old asanas into a flowing system of moves - the Ashtanga yoga of today. He has taught hundreds of people like Jeff and Harmony, who can call themselves certified teachers, and seems an inspiring man - quite the looker in his day.

Back to the daily schedule. Yoga was followed by a breakfast of fresh porridge, pineapple, papaya and watermelon. There followed intense periods of chat, sunbathing, swimming in the pool and biding time until the gong went for lunch. And what lunch! Saori, the resident Japanese chef - five foot tall and cute as a button - produced meal after meal of sumptuous vegan food. A team of Indians made scrumptious dinner. Every day we vowed to eat less, and every day we were beaten.

We often had classes at 4:30, but these were Q&A sessions, gentle stretches and, more often than not, silliness. When we did start to venture out into the real world, it involved taxi trips to markets and the odd restaurant, or a wander to the cafe down the road run by a German lady who was already baking her Christmas Stollen.

But really, what made Purple Valley even more special were the people there with me: interesting, independent, well-travelled and utterly fabulous. Barely an hour would go by before we were hysterical and wiping tears from our cheeks about something. The only downside was my photography went from attempts at artistry to cheesy, self-taken holiday snaps (see above). But I'm not complaining.