Yoga Stresses Me Out
I never took a yoga class in the US. I brought some yoga tapes with me which I followed half-heartedly. But no matter how great the tape, it’s just not the same as having a real living breathing instructor. So I was excited that there was a yoga class offered twice a week at the international school.
I hoped that it would not be populated by skinny French ex-ballerinas who had infested the African dance class I'd taken last year. Alas, it was. Complemented by suspiciously flexible young men. The instructors (who rotated on a schedule I was never able to figure out) spoke calm, meditative French. At least, it would be calm and meditative if I wasn’t trying to figure out what body part they were referring to. I might have been determined “advanced” by the Alliance Française but then the AF never asked me to curl my toes or flare my nostrils. The whole exercise reminded me of the aerobics class I took at the University of Montreal where I was always two steps behind everyone else because I couldn’t process the language and the movement at the same time. So phooey on yoga, despite those Incredible India! ads on CNN.
International School of Ouagadougou
Alliance Française in San Francisco
Université de Montréal
Incredible India! yoga
On February 2nd, 2006 08:00 am (UTC), (Anonymous) commented:
I love those ads, and they do make Yoga look veeeery sexy - I love the last shot in front of the Taj Mahal. Alas, all the Yoga in the world won't help me look like that woman. :-). And I have to say - at least you have a language-barrier excuse on not being able to keep up with the exercise class. I once went to a step-aerobics class in Seattle with my friend (her gym, she went daily, so she knew all the moves) and it was like a cheerleading competition. EVERYONE in that damn class knew every move and was bouncing happily away to instructions in my mother tongue. I couldn't keep up (and it wasn't cause I was out of shape, cause I wasn't!) and was getting embarrassed and frustrated, then I ended up tripping over my step...and then running from the room because I (inexplicably) started to freaking CRY. I went in the other room and ran 4.5 miles on the treadmill to punish myself. Nice.