Yoga en France

After waiting for my cold to go away, come home from vacation, and get paid, I was finally ready to take on a yoga class in Chasse.

Without an idea of where exactly the class would be held, what I would need to bring, or even if the instructor would let me participate without paying, I walked through the silent alley next to the schoolyard to the building where I was told the classes would be held. Not a thing stirred in Chasse. It seemed as though everyone was asleep.

Wandering around the building, I found a door, walked in, and followed noise and light upstairs. People were waiting outside the door to a large room. Inside the dim lit room was a circle of red mats, mirrors and a sparkly mural of Paris scenery, Eiffel Tower and all.

The first thing I noticed is that everyone had blankets or towels that they put over the mats. Did they think the mats were dirty?

After introducing myself "je suis nouvelle", the instructor let me participate and hoped I'd be able to understand everything.

How hard could it be? If I couldn't understand, then I could just look at everyone else and copy their moves. This proved to be more difficult when lying down on your back or being face-down on the mat. Also, not being familiar with French yoga lingo, I could barely relax, while trying to concentrate on what things meant.

Did this disturb me? No. I went to yoga not only to relax, but to better my listening comprehension in French. Also, it was a great workout. Afterwards, I couldn't even lift my shaking arms. And although the instructor had to help me a lot, I felt like a part of the class within no time. The class consisted of two girls who looked about my age, two older couples, and another older woman. It's the first time I've ever seen men in a yoga class.

The move that made my arms shake was something another woman described as a "cauchemar" or nightmare. While I did struggle with the moves and the language, I came home feeling great that I'd accomplished something. Then completely sore the next day.