Tag Archives: instructor

Yoga Anyone?

A few posts ago, I mentioned that my husband had lost some weight and that he started yoga. As if moving across the world wasn’t enough, he wanted me to try yoga too. I can now check “yoga” off my list of things I want to try – and just to be clear, it was never on the list. But this is an adventure, so sign me up. I have now participated in survived 3 classes.

We were doing classes first thing in the morning – that proved to be a little too hectic – and a little too early – I fail to see why being awake before the sun is a good approach to anything – so yesterday, we began doing classes at night. It was much better. And I really believe it helped me sleep better. Sleep has not been coming easy to me in India.

I prepared for our class by eating 4 pieces of chocolate. The Hersheys milk chocolate chunks with almonds and toffee. My own little slice of nirvana. Hey, you say yoga – I say chocolate. It’s all good.

Our instructor walks in and we sit down on the ground. And we start breathing – is this new age? People have been breathing for centuries. Okay.  I’ll be quiet. I am officially breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I think I am done here. I can breathe. In. Out.

Oh no, that is not all my little yoga friend. Stand up.

It appears that Number One Hubby and I are not exactly ready for “real” yoga because we aren’t what you would call flexible. So we are in yoga preschool and we are basically only allowed to do stretching at this point. Baby steps.

So we start off with some good old fashioned arm wind mills. One at a time. Big Circles. It is sadly not as easy as I remember it being in PE. Then we do both arms together. Then that damn instructor says the words I dread the most in yoga.

Reverse.

Bastard.

Let me just tell you that it’s not really that easy to move forward for us – yes we are out of shape – but reverse. That is a whole can of yoga kick ass.

We survived the wind mills and then do a few other standing up things.

Instructor: Lay down. Relax. Focus on your breathing.
Me:  Oh, this is my favorite part.
Instructor: Oh?
Me: Yes, relaxing.
Hubby: You are going to get us kicked out of class. SHHHHH.
Instructor: Ha Ha funny lady – you will pay for that later.

I am frankly a little nervous about upsetting him. God forbid he has a blog and writes about his “problem” students. Or even worse, he gets us in some strange position, relaxes us, and then walks out the door – leaving us to untangle ourselves. So I decide to behave as best I can.

We relax for a minute – but then the yoga game is back on. More stretching. I heard a lot of cracking and popping. I thought the kids were asleep – but who is making microwave popcorn. Silly me – that is my husband’s bones. Crack. Pop.

Seriously, it was crazy. He is a very athletic guy but apparently he has never been flexible. At all. He cannot reach past his knees when trying to touch his toes. Yoga is painful for him. But he does already feel a difference. I am constantly entertained. Yes, he surely loves that about me.

Now it’s time for the one-legged bicycle. One leg. Now the other Leg. Together. Now both legs in tandem together – knees locked together.

Reverse.

Bastard.

I know you are laughing. But get down on the floor and try it. The reverse bicycle with your legs together is not easy.

So, then we roll over on our tummys. Now I can see just how dirty the floor is. And I start wondering if the instructor would mind if I took a few notes – I am so blogging about this and I don’t want to forget anything. And I need to write a note to self – no potato chips in the family room after Ravi has swept for the day. Marble floors are not a friend to potato chip crumbs. And there is a lot of cat hair. I guess the cats are shedding. Yippee.

While still on our tummys, we are to hold our arms and legs straight out -lifted as high as we can get them and put our heads straight back. Oh, and I have another favorite word – Hold. This word can make time stand still. It has magical powers. A minute instantly becomes 5 hours. Be careful how you use it.

Then we have to hold one leg up while turning our head to the opposite side.

Instructor:  Right leg.
Instructor: Right leg.
Instructor: No really, start with your right leg.
Instructor: Your other left, please.

Okay, the whole premise behind yoga is being flexible – I say in body and in spirit – if number one hubby and I are both yoga retarded and start with our left leg, just go with it. No need to make us feel stupid – we’re just in preschool, remember? You are going to say switch in just a minute and then we’ll be busy with our right leg. During this little diddy, we put our head to the opposite side (near our armpit) and stretch. Now I find out that maybe it wasn’t just the driver who smelled a little ripe today. Hmmmm.

We do a few more stretches – some of which are hilarious but I lack the skills to adequately describe them. After I clear note taking with our instructor, I will ask if photography is allowed. And then I will get back to you. Until then, just think circus performer.

Now it is time to sit up. I have Meniere’s – I will surely bore you with the details of that little adventure in another post – but suffice it to say that my inner ear is out of whack. I get a mad headache when I sit up from these laying on the ground stretches and I feel very nauseous.

Luckily we are almost done. A few more breathing exercises and we can go to bed. So for our last breathing exercise, we hold our fingers over one side of our nose and breath in. Then we close off that side and breath out the other side. Then Reverse. And Repeat. Reverse. Repeat. Reverse. Repeat. Yes, “repeat” is important with breathing. See I am learning something.

This is either preparing us for some serious drug use – or clearing our minds and souls. I am sure it is the latter – but I have never snorted anything through my nose but nasal sprays  – so it seems a little strange to me.

I think I might start my own form of yoga – how does this sound –

You lay in a lounge chair – perhaps with a pillow
You close your eyes so you do not see dirt or cat hair
You let your lungs and nose do what they were meant to do – all on their own
You stretch to the right – or left – and you pick up a frozen drink
You slowly bring the straw to your lips
Repeat
No need to reverse
Just repeat, repeat, repeat.
If you must have something spinning – twirl that pretty umbrella that comes in the drink.

Yoga did help me get a better night’s sleep – it has helped me realize how sadly out of shape I am – it makes my muscles quiver – and it makes me nauseous. So I will be doing it again on Thursday.

Could you spell that please?

I am no stranger to people not understanding me. I was born in South Carolina and lived in the somewhat deep south until 4th grade. We moved to Germany for 5th grade and sometimes people did not understand what I was saying – I had me a twang. For 7th grade we moved to Georgia – minus some of the twang – I had lost most of it – and some of my words seemed odd and, strangely, less accented.

Six years in Georgia fixed that quite nicely. Pass me a mint julep. Pretty please. And then off to college I went. Up North.  Well (just barely) south of the Mason Dixon line. But North is in the eye of the beholder.  It was in a very diverse area but an area with no real accent of its own. Enter my southern drawl. Could you spell that please – I heard that more than once and it seemed so insulting. Doesn’t everyone say PEEEEEEnuhhhhts, puh leeeeees?

Then there was the time I went to visit my cousin in Wyoming. Play me some mountain music, Hillbilly. The friends of my cousin laughed so hard at my accent that their sody pop came right out of them their noses. I cried for over an hour. They were not tears of joy.

So moving to India and hearing the different accents hasn’t been too hard for me. I can sympathize. I just slow down my ears and listen up real good. It is really amazing, even the Americans here are from all over the world. It is the United Nations of Accents.

Last week, I started taking Hindi lessons. Okay, I have had one (ek) lesson. But I have been trying out some of my new words.

It turns out I still have me a funny little accent. The three Indian men in my daily life, Raju, Ravi, and Kahn all have a hard time understanding just exactly what it is I am trying to say. When they slow down their ears – they can understand most of it. It is a lesson in slow for all of us.

I was leaving to go to the market the other day and Raju and Ravi taught me how to say goodbye – ta ta. Sounds like Tigger – hey, I can remember that. I can even spell it.

Then they tried to teach me how to say “take me to” Defence (this is not misspelled – remember the British influence here) Colony market. I don’t even remember the words they tried to teach me because I am blocking this from recent memory. They told me – I practiced – they laughed – I made them pinky swear they weren’t teaching me to call our driver a jerk – and I practiced again.

Then I got in the car

Me: Kahn and then “what (I thought) they taught me to say”
Kahn: Ma’am?
Me: Doesn’t that mean “I want to go to Defence Colony Market”?
Kahn: Ma’am?
Me: What did I just say?
Kahn: Defence Colony Ma’am?
Me: Okay. Defence Colony Market it is. Can we go there?
Kahn: Yes Ma’am.

Then our driver explains the market to me. He’ll park here and wait for me here. There are two sides. You go down the right and then come back up the right. He’ll wait here. Here is where he will be. Waiting for me. Ma’am.

Okay, it is not lost on me that he could not understand “I want to go to the market” but he could completely explain the market to me. Maybe I am just language retarded. Maybe falling out of a swing when I was little and hitting my head on cement really was something to be a wee bit more concerned about.

My teacher is coming back on Monday and you can be sure, my first lesson will be – I want to go to…….

Ta Ta.