17 November 2009

A French Yoga Class, Rain, and Brussel Sprouts

I haven’t done any more traveling lately since I’ve finally started teaching in some of my classes. My adventures have been more of the poking-around-town kind. I have confirmed my suspicions that Vesoul, which has only one nightclub, has at least 12 different establishments for getting a haircut, as well as at least 5 driving schools. There is one music shop, several stores selling art supplies, and one amazing patisserie with the most incredible chocolate cakes I have ever seen.

I finally got up the nerve to call (in French, of course!) and ask about yoga classes. They are located on the very far side of town, so Monday morning I managed to catch the bus down there. I was very nervous—I’m not sure why exactly, but I had the first-day-of-school jitters. I think I just wasn’t sure what to expect and I was afraid of some kind of public embarrassment involving me toppling face-first into my yoga mat or something. I was very much looking forward to some good exercise, and I was nervous that this class was to last for and hour and a half—-I’ve only ever taken hour-long classes before and I was afraid of being really sore or not following the instructions in French.

As it turned out, the yoga class was held in a basketball court with about 40 to 50 very old people. I mean like 70s and 80s old. I came in just before the class was to start and shucked off my shoes and jacket before looking around. As I hastily unrolled my towel I noticed that the other practitioners were still wearing their socks….and turtlenecks and skirts and jewelry…several of them had sleeping bags or blankets. “This is different,” I thought, as I found a spot in the back of the room.

The instructor started us out with breathing, as you might expect, but then we kept breathing for about 15 minutes…she was giving detailed and varying descriptions about different types of breaths, a sort of guided meditation breathing exercise, I think, but I didn’t follow a whole lot of it in French. I kept looking around, but no one seemed to be breathing any differently than me, so I figured I was all right. No one did the typical “Pranayama” yoga breath, either, which I was expecting.

Next the instructor showed us a very long series of simple stretching movements, which included one downward dog and one child’s pose-type thing. We proceeded to do this series three times altogether. “Okay, not too shabby,” I thought.

We then laid down again and breathed for another 5 minutes or so and did a mental inventory of our bodies, noticing if anything had changed, if we had any pain. “How could I feel pain?” I wondered, “We’ve barely done anything!” I started to feel the chill of the large, unheated room. It occurred to me that this cold space with the rows of white-haired folks all laid out with eyes closed was uncannily like being in a morgue. I tried repeatedly to banish this thought.

The instructor then demonstrated a very simple sitting twist, which we all did 6 times on each side, while breathing. Guess what we did next? YES! Laid down and breathed, noticing any differences, any pain. I reached for my socks and put them back on, feeling goosebumps on my arms, I was thinking that at this rate we would never go past a warm up stage!

Next we gently bent backwards, followed by more lying down and more breathing. I kept waiting for the actual class to start, but this seemed to be the thick of it. We had a sitting meditation, and then lay down and breathed some more. I was feeling distinctly cold.

Finally, we had a laying-down guided meditation for about 25 minutes. I noticed a lot of people crawling into their sleeping bags or covering themselves with their blankets, kind of like me of nap time in kindergarten. “Oh shit,” I thought, staring longingly at my coat and scarf on the far side of the room.

The instructor gradually led us on a guided tour of our bodies. My favorite phrases were “feel your nostrils move in…. and out as you breath… feel the blood circulate in your pubis…notice the arteries in your legs…” And then we were finished. I did feel more relaxed, though a bit disappointed. I think this instructor was basing her class off of one of the slower, more contemplative styles of yoga, which was certainly gentle and appropriate for the other participants. I am thinking of going to one of her evening classes to see if it's any different, but otherwise I might try to practice on my own…does anyone know of some good yoga dvds?

In other news, I had some fresh, market-bought brussel sprouts that I steamed for dinner tonight and they were heavenly. I am not sure that I had ever eaten brussel sprouts before coming to France this time, but I had them at the restaurant we went to on the day I hung out with the French family and I was quite taken with their light, buttery flavor. As a still-novice cook, I was thrilled to find that they were delicious with just a little salt and pepper added. I also had a cheese feast with Saint Marceline, comté, morbier, AND a new, very strong soft cheese that comes in a round orange patty with a brain-like texture (yum!). I don’t know the name, but I think it's typically from the Champagne region and the cheese-lady recommended it to me.

Weather still rainy. Not too cold, which is nice.

I have discovered a cultural center located not too far from me in a beautiful big old building. They give fairly cheap community music lessons and art lessons. Tomorrow evening I am going to sit in on a beginner’s art lesson and see how I like it. Kathrin wants to start learning the saxophone, which I am all for.

We are also thinking of taking jazz dance lessons at the gymnasium right behind the school. I never in my life would have thought this would be appealing, but after being indoors so much I am ready to try pretty much anything!

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