Strike a painful pose
Not just painful because I think I'm quoting a Madonna song. Thankfully, I'm not sure.
Here in Vancouver things are much, much different. And it isn't just the dogs being walked in antique prams, nor the need to have a starbucks within a 1 minute walking distance from one's house, no matter which direction one chooses to walk in. I now believe that every Vancouverite was born with a lululemon hoodie adorning their little red icky baby form. The doctor probably gently cleaned them and their designer hoodie off before tenderly wrapping them in a small sticky yoga mat and placing them in their mother's waiting arms. The mother, in turn, probably delivered said child while performing sun salutations, and now holds them while in meditative child's pose herself. In short, Vancouverites are Yoga freaks.
I went to my first yoga class here yesterday. I've been to yoga classes in Calgary, and have a beginner's yoga video, so I am not a total yoga virgin. But these people are definitely the sluts of the yoga world (did that metaphor wander. . . it feels like it did.)
The teachers back in cow town would slowly demonstrate and discuss how to get in and out of each pose, and then would go around the room correcting us all. Not so in the city of the naturally gifted yoga savants. Here, the teacher lists off a series of poses, then everyone does them. They actually know all the names. And there is no correcting, so the only hint I have that I might be doing something wrong is the occasional searing pain. Is that a good stretch? Or permanent damage? Only time will tell.
Here in Vancouver things are much, much different. And it isn't just the dogs being walked in antique prams, nor the need to have a starbucks within a 1 minute walking distance from one's house, no matter which direction one chooses to walk in. I now believe that every Vancouverite was born with a lululemon hoodie adorning their little red icky baby form. The doctor probably gently cleaned them and their designer hoodie off before tenderly wrapping them in a small sticky yoga mat and placing them in their mother's waiting arms. The mother, in turn, probably delivered said child while performing sun salutations, and now holds them while in meditative child's pose herself. In short, Vancouverites are Yoga freaks.
I went to my first yoga class here yesterday. I've been to yoga classes in Calgary, and have a beginner's yoga video, so I am not a total yoga virgin. But these people are definitely the sluts of the yoga world (did that metaphor wander. . . it feels like it did.)
The teachers back in cow town would slowly demonstrate and discuss how to get in and out of each pose, and then would go around the room correcting us all. Not so in the city of the naturally gifted yoga savants. Here, the teacher lists off a series of poses, then everyone does them. They actually know all the names. And there is no correcting, so the only hint I have that I might be doing something wrong is the occasional searing pain. Is that a good stretch? Or permanent damage? Only time will tell.
posted by mudget at 6:41 PM
4 Comments:
but...the best part of yoga class is the teacher feeling you up in the dark, sweaty room when you're not in the right position. I also have a cheapometer that prevents any lululemon purchasing. This "Vancouver" you speak of seems strange and scary...
Indeed it does, indeed it does.
You point out one of the reasons Alberta used the heritage fund to commission the Rocky Mountains (I know a thing or two about economics).
First because mountains are pretty, second because we like Chinooks and third (as you pointed out) because Don Getty felt we needed a permanent barrier to keep out the Yoga and antique Dog prams.
I don't know if you know this, but dog prams lack the horsepower to make it over the Rogers pass, and yoga sluts have trouble with the high altitude, their bodies contort and they become unable to walk.
You certainly are a fountain of information. Glad to see that degree isn't going to go to waste!!
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