egos and icons

i've received a lot of love and supportive emails recently in responce to my second last post. when my mother's message said i sounded depressed and sick, i was a little embarassed at revealing my emotions so openly. while i was writing that post, i was speaking directly from my head and heart, trying to sort some things out. i was also having a bad day.
after taking some time to ponder my my thoughts and feelings, i came to a few realizations. as i've stated previously, this trip was me seeking yogic education and guidance on my spiritual path. the time i spent in the teacher training course in c.m was everything i was seeking and fabulously rewarding. when i continued on to india, i somehow thought that just by being in this country, the birthing ground of yoga, i would magically and effortlessly be transported to enlightenment. after attending several yoga classes in mysore, it's apparent that yoga is a big money business and the passion of yoga is coming from the students who have travelled around the world to be here, not from the rich teachers. i've also found it difficult to go from one style of teaching to something completely contradictory and its created a feeling of unrest in me.
another big realization was the suffering my ego was creating in me. i had built this image of myself of what i would be like at this point in my life. i thought that after all the yogic teaching i had received, i would have been transformed into the perfect yoga goddess; effortlessly maintaining deep, calm breathing....while in a handstand..with 5% body fat. when my body began to break down and lose its strength, i felt angry and resentful towards myself for not living up to be as good as i thought i should be. what kind of yoga teacher was i going to be if i wasn't able to perform 'perfectasana'?
today while in the city circle waiting outside an atm booth, an elderly indian man asked me how i felt about india and how my spirit felt about india. i told him i was torn between love and frustration. when he pressed me for thoughts, i told him how a typical conversation will go with an indian person.

me: 'do the chillies come on the naan bread or are they on the side?'
indian: 'yes, madam.'
me: 'so they are on the bread?'
indian: 'thats right.'
me: 'do they come on the side?'
indian: 'you are correct, madam!'

this conversation can go on for hours but i usually give up and hope the best. whats been hardest for me to deal with is the disrespect from the indian men, unless i'm wearing my dollar signs halo. i've been poked, fondled and pushed out of a waiting line like i wasn't even there, which can all be excruciatingly frustrating. yet then something will happen that causes me to smile again, like the man in the bookstore today. i went to pick up a book i had ordered (rumi's poetry - amazing!) and found that i didn't have enough money to pay for the book and catch a rickshaw home. 'take the book and pay me when you when you come back', the shop owner said. he then invited me to take part in the families friday evening puja, allowed me to pass my hands through the flames for good luck and gave me a banana and a book on tantra. i was stunned. the contrasts of this vast country is what makes up the beauty around and i am blessed to be part of it.