After a year and a half of home yoga practice, I ventured in a public class, hoping this would help me with the correct alignment of the poses. Well, that didn’t work out. The class was however hugely humorous, so it helped me at least with mood boost. Not to be confused with zen boost, as I’m strictly a zen-o-phobe.
Generally speaking, in a first-world yoga class, I would expect the instructor to take rounds and advise the students on what they’re doing wrong, to the accompaniment of instrumental music and burning candles. In a second-world yoga class, I was unsure what to expect, and while I hate surprises, this surprise was fun.
The yoga studio (yoga den, rather) was in an outbuilding in the yard of another building, which was entered through a garage door. It consisted of a small anteroom and the main room. No changing room, no showers, but one restroom, which I neither needed nor dared to check out. Well, whatever, I arrived first, so I changed into my yoga set while no one was around.
Hardly did I pull my leggings up when a guy materialised behind my back. I didn’t expect there would be guys. Because yoga. I was wondering for a while if I accidentally wandered in a tantric sex class. Well, I didn’t. It was an intermediate yoga class, which was about the right level. It wasn’t the poses that confused me as much as the fact that the instructor spoke in Czech, while I practise with English language yoga videos.
I didn’t particularly like the instructor, which doesn’t mean anything, as I don’t like people. I was mildly puzzled by her choice to say Warrior One when she means High Lunge. Maybe she doesn’t know how to say high lunge in Czech. Neither do I. It’s impossible. I manifested the good sense not to argue with the instructor.
After the fun class, I had some more fun because I chose public humiliation rather than changing clothes in public—really I just didn’t feel like putting on clean clothes when sweaty—so I walked home wearing spandex, which should never be worn outside of gym. No one cared, of course. I’ll probably just leave the house straight in my workout clothes next time. Whatever.