Stinking sinking ship

Although not technically part of Passport to Prana, I did have an opportunity to sample the Yoga offered at the Yorkville Club Uptown. For all the hype, I have been thoroughly unimpressed with the gym. I was excited by the number of classes offered there, but after a spin class which was attended by me and one other person, and the bootcamp class - again, me and one person, I started thinking this place was a joke! A fancy expensive joke, but a joke.

What caught my attention was that the Yoga was presented by a well known Yoga studio. Today, I gave the Hot Ashatanga class a try. First, the gym has been experiencing a sewer issue all week, so the place has been stinky. Hardly a serene feeling for practicing yoga.

The studio itself was small, had a basement/spacecave feel to it. It reminded me of the boozecans I used to frequent after clubs - minus the cocaine and prostitutes.

I was generally impressed with the class. Johnny was a good instructor - offering five minutes of explanation before we started the exercises. He answered questions in my mind like...why? what's the point? etc.....He went into the benefits of breathing into different postures and why he follows the traditional Ashtanga series, as it is taught in India. Johnny was great in assisting classmates. Those who were close to perfect headstands and binding with opposite elbows. Those who were 95% in the pose and just needed that extra push. It wasn't a surprise that he skipped right over me. I wasn't offended, we know I suck at yoga.

Although definitely challenging, the class moved quickly and was interesting. The good Yoga just may save this gym, but I doubt it.

"You still suck at yoga...Namaste!"

My search for Prana continues. This time I rode the rocket to the Yonge and St. Clair area to visit Moksha Yoga Uptown. This studio is nestled besides the Delisle Court, famous for Brunos Fine Foods and Xococava - home of the chorizo chocolate truffle. It's amazing how I start talking about yoga and I invariably lead to chocolate. Every time.

So back to yoga. I arrived at the studio, removed my shoes - as Yoga Studio etiquette dictates. I detected a bit of 'tude from the lady at the front desk and wondered if she learned her customer service skills at the Delisle Club gym across the street.

Oh boy, I thought...here we start. The change room was small and cramped with no lockers. Again. The thing that really caught my eye was a sign posted on the wall by the showers:

"Showers are intended for a quick rinse only. Please leave the lengthy beauty routines for home. Thank you. Namaste."

Now I don't know about you, but I think that was inappropriate usage of Namaste. It's like when people say "No offence but..." before they're about to say something really hurtful. If you want to write your bitchy sign, go ahead but leave Namaste out of it. I should put up a sign in the bathroom at work "If you piss on the seat, wipe it up. God Bless." Sometimes just ending with a period will suffice.

So the front desk girl and the sign in the shower was giving me tone. Then I entered the hot studio itself. It was quite lovely. The sunlight was streaming through the ceiling high windows. Either I'm getting used to heated yoga studios or it wasn't as hot as previous studios because I felt it quite comfortable. I could see Xococava from my Yoga Mat. Being a new student of yoga studio ettiquete, I have learned that it is customary to enter the room silently and to lay on your mat and meditate while you wait for the class to begin.

I guess I meditated well in the sunny heated room...because I fell asleep. And not just shut my eyes...I mean a deep, REM sleep. I don't know how long I was out. Roz, the instructor woke me up as she walked in. Not only was I groggy and confused, now I had to excercise too. Crap.

I must say once I got my barings I really did enjoy the class. Roz had a very soothing voice and she explained things well. She did draw the blinds though (bye bye Xococava). The one thing that was terrific about this studio was the abundance of yoga props. Stumpy yogis like me rely on props.

The class did seem to move quickly, and was over before I knew it. I didn't seem to be the most worst in the class, but I'm also not ready to pose for the cover of Yoga journal...I know...I know...there's no comparing or competing in yoga...but still.

More and more I am seeing the restorative benefits of hot yoga. It does help me sleep ;-)

Something's cookin' at the St. Lawrence Market...I think it may be me!

Can a squat, matzo-ball shaped girl become a Yogi? Well, I'm gonna die trying. Today I got my first official stamp on my Passport to Prana. My Passport card came in the mail last week and I have been excited to try it, despite my having thrown in the yoga mat previously.

With Passport to Prana, I have the privilege of sampling yoga studios all over the GTA for the price of $30. After years of attempting yoga in a gym, I realized that trying to practice yoga in a gym is like trying to have a fine dining experience in a foodcourt. It's just not the right vibe. I'm excited to explore the city as a short unflexible yogi.

The first stop on my quest for Serenity was the Bikram Yoga Centre near the St. Lawrence Market. It was as good a place to start as any and it was 5 minutes away from work. I would go from desk jockey into sweaty cow position in no time! As I sauntered round the butt of the King Eddie Hotel, I had a bit of trouble locating the studio. Suddenly a guy whizzed by me on his bike. No doubt a bicycle courier - and he asked me if I'm looking for Yoga. He ditched his bike and took me up a lenghty flight of stairs to a studio. Then he took off his helmet and bike shoes. I guess this is what bike couriers do in their spare time.

The studio itself was on the dingier side. The reception area was a cross between a Dr's office and Daycare, with the owner of the studio breastfeeding her little 'un in the corner. Holistic.

Hilary, the instructor was very friendly when I mentioned I was a beginner. I neglected to mention that I've been a beginner for the past year and a half. (They're nicer when I say I'm a beginner than when I say I suck at yoga!) Hilary directed me to the changeroom, which was very awkwardly small, with random toilet stalls squished into a cramped space. The changeroom was clean and sufficient although horrendously cramped after the class with over 10 women vying for a space to get their stuff together.

Why don't yoga studios have lockers? Is the threat of Karma biting you on the ass powerful enough to ensure you stay out of other people's purses.....

Hilary informed me that the Bikram class was 90 minutes long. I told her I could only stay for the 60 minutes. "Oh, do you have plans after...' I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I couldn't physically and mentally muster up the strengh, stamina or attention span to stay for an hour and a half! (that's like yoga-ing through 3 episodes of Family Guy!)Hilary had me cornered. Right then and there, I committed to staying for the duration.

It's a good thing she was likable, cuz I was sweating by minute 3. And that was just from rolling out my yoga mat. We started with some bizzarro frog-like chant breathing. I was glad I didn't know anyone there and even more glad that nobody knew me. Surprisingly, the class flowed well. There was not one downward dog (yay) and not one sun salutation (double yay) . I guess those aren't part of the traditional Bikram sequence. There was no clock in the room, which was both a blessing and a curse.

And not to mention I had Yoga Rockstar in front of me all class. This guy was amazing - kept his cool throughout 90 mins of 110 degrees. The intense look of concentration in his eyes as he wiggled and contorted and flexed the perfect abs. Wow.

The class ended quickly enough, and after some pushing and shoving in the changeroom among a lot of sweat-soaked Lulu shorts Leaving the studio, bike courier guy told me I did well for my first time. I sheepishly thanked him - I do rock - for a 'beginner'. Yoga Rock Star left the studio - as cooly as he walked in - ripped jeans, tight white t, shades, jumped on his vespa and rode into the sunset. Wow.

My experience at Bikram was a good one. I still can't touch my toes, or clasp opposite elbows to my knees, but I lasted 90 mins. I'll call that a small victory.

I am a yoga dropout.

again.

I don't have an answer for this, so I'll just put it out there into cyberspace and see what happens. I have yoga guilt.

I don't love yoga, and I seem to be terrible at it due to my very short arms and non-existant torso, but I feel like I should be doing it because it's healthy and it's supposed to clear your mind or whatever. But every time I go, I get frustrated at how much I suck at it and how boring it is to actually clear you mind. So I feel guilty.

Is yoga guilt a Jewish thing? Lord knows we have a monopoly on guilt.

So I've spent the past week doing Bikram Yoga, which is yoga in a room that's heated to 37 degrees celsius. My body does not tolerate heat well, so I thought this would be a nice challenge. Suprisingly, I enjoyed the heat and find it did help me relax and stretch.

The thing about yoga is it supposed to help you cultivate patience. But so is trying to move a pen across the table with your mind. Just because they say it's supposed to happen, doesn't mean it will....sigh....

I think it's time I bind my downward dog and take it for a hike!