One Downward Dog Short of a Yoga Class

-->

I better write this all down while I'm still giggling. This morning I visited a gym near our place, a big chain gym kinda place hoping I could attend their yoga class to relax and get over my frustrations with pretty much everything happening or not happening here in Brazil.

Now, I'm not a yoga expert, but maybe it's because I come from Vancouver, a yoga mecca where you can't throw a loonie without hitting someone in yoga pants, that this Hatha Yoga class seemed a bit weird.

Upstairs, 50 people were powering though a spinning class while a very hot, muscular dj was yelling at them to keep going while downstairs, 5 ladies and I set up our mats in the Zen room. This an obvious first hint that yoga hasn't quite caught on yet, except... wait.... what's this I see? One lady is showing off her Lullulemon yoga bag to our instructor, a smiley guy with a soft voice, while I'm thinking, "Argghhh, Lullu is spreading like a disease!" Although, I think Lullulemon would have to make a much sexier line of gym wear to compete in the Brazilian market. About half the ladies there were wearing one piece lycra body suits with bare backs and very low decolletage. One elastic belt and headband away from the aerobic suits of the 80's, if you ask me.

An Enya tune started looping, and Smiley got his bells out. Okay, I've seen instructors start and finish the class with a soft ting of some Buddhist chimes, but he exuberantly called us in like cows coming in from the field for dinner. Okay. I guess class is starting.

So, to be honest I have no idea what a Hatha yoga class is supposed to contain, but 15 minutes in and I didn't recognize one yoga move; not one downward dog, not one child's pose, no cobra, warrior, nothing. Lots of arm waving, breathing as if we were snakes, some punching in the air while yelling loudly and spritzing of some unknown "essential oil" which I suspect was just air freshener. I started giggling. I couldn't stop. Forget relaxing and zoning out. Luckily the room was dark. 

Enya was still looping and we started doing exercises that suspiciously looked like your normal stuff you see on gym posters except we were holding yoga blocks in our hands. About 30 minutes into our hour long class, we ended up on the floor, and Smiley is telling us to relax. Already? We lay there for about 15 minutes listening to Enya going around and around mixed in with the faint sound of the bass pounding above us. Suddenly a hear a fast  "squeak, squeak, squeak." What is that? How can we relax now? Smiley was going around to each lady, energetically rubbing their backs with a squeaky massage tool with wooden balls. Pushing hard across their spines. Argh! Get away from me! No obrigado, I said when it was my turn.

We lay there for another 10 minutes and then Smiley took out his bells. Bing! Bing! Bing! Bing! Namaste- the end.  As I mentioned, I can't say for sure that it was a bad yoga class, and Smiley seemed really into teaching it and making it special with his bell and his spritzer, but I didn't feel stretched or relaxed; more amused and confused.