Yoga is almost like music, in a way. There is no end to it.”
-Sting
“Yoga class is great. You can close your eyes and imagine yourself in a relaxing place. Like on your sofa, not doing yoga.”
-Grant Tucker
I had promised my readers that I would give them an update on our adventures in southern Spain. At the risk of providing TMI, here it goes.
Our new furniture has been delivered. All our legal immigration papers are in order. I have been to the Málaga Medical Society (It is really a doctor´s union) headquarters to start the process to get myself a license to practice, in case I find out that I can help. We have developed strong preferences as to where to buy our food and what we want to eat.
One, and only one thing is missing. We have no regular exercise plan.
I used to play tennis. We had a gym in our building that was well-equipped. I used the treadmill and some weights. We enjoyed long walks at the Arch and in Forest Park. I employed a trainer for a few months. We were in decent cardiovascular shape considering our age.
We are not in sync when it comes to exercise preferences. I am more into light weights and vigorous walking. Phyllis does a lot of stretches that involve zero motion, and she doesn´t walk with me because she says I go too fast. I decided it would be easier to sign up for something like yoga, which has aerobic and stretching benefits. I went on Google and found a yoga gym nearby.
It has a spectacular web site. Big pictures showing many lean, appealing people crowding a large exercise floor. They offer eight different kinds of yoga: hot; cold; advanced; beginner… Even a class for older people. I was excited.
My enthusiasm was a tiny bit marred because no phone number was listed. There were no fees published. Readers were told to only use the email address given for comments. How were we supposed to sign up?
I went to the place. It is on the way home from Pilar´s restaurant. It was locked, right in the middle of the workday. Only a tiny office is visible from the street level. I went again, and again, and again. Locked every time.
I gave up on that studio. Last week I needed to buy something at the electricity store. This is where you buy lightbulbs and extension cords. You can also get a TV set, a toaster, and some home appliances there. No rhyme or reason: you have to know what they have. I was shocked to find the door to the yoga studio open. I walked in.
There was a tall, slender, slightly lethargic man sitting at the desk. He was thumbing through some papers. A middle-aged expat lady was patiently waiting for him to find what he was looking for. Even though it was clear that another person had entered the room, he ignored my presence.
The thumbing through the papers went on for another minute, spent in total silence. He looked up to address the lady.
“I cannot find it.”
“I have the receipt here. Twenty classes. I paid eight months ago, but I went to Finland for the summer. Here it is: look at it.”
The sitting gentleman did not extend a hand to grab the piece of paper. Instead, he nodded. He went back to his thumbing of papers, this time on a different stash. The lady looked at me and smiled. Another two minutes of thumbing ensued.
“I have it. Here it is.”
He pointed to a pile of papers on his desk. He made no effort to pull one specific paper out. Clearly, he did not have “it.” He had given up.
The lady walked out, clearly satisfied with her triumph. The sitting gentleman looked at me.
“Can I help you?”
I could not tell if he had an accent or not. Things go faster when I can converse in Spanish with people who were raised speaking Spanish.
My wife and I are looking for a yoga class. We are nowhere near an advanced level. Even beginner status may be difficult, because we would have trouble standing on one leg while bending the other one and extending our arms to the ceiling. We do not want to slow down the rest of the class.
He nodded.
“You are looking for a class for people with limited mobility. We are starting one this week. One person has signed up already.”
I kind of nodded, but not enthusiastically.
How limited is limited mobility?
“The lady in question has a motorized wheelchair. They bring her in through the back door. It is much wider. She enjoyed her last class.”
I do not think we are that limited…
“I had a cerebral haemorrhage three years ago. There is nothing wrong with allowing people like me to take yoga classes.”
I was in a bind. Of course, I strongly encourage everyone, no matter how mobile, to pursue some form of exercise. But the first thing that came to my mind when he mentioned the motorized wheelchair and the stroke was that SNL episode from years ago, the one where they had ballet performances for the blind. One could not help but laugh at the awful ballet dancers, but the blind spectators seemed pleased with their performance. It is a sick piece of humour, but it made me think (between my laughs). Maybe there are blind people that would like to be taken out to the theatre occasionally.
I clearly did not want to participate in the new class. But I wanted even less to hurt anyone´s feelings. I did what every caring husband should do when he wants to avoid embarrassment. I enrolled Phyllis.
The gentleman said he would call her as soon as they had a time.
I came home, placed my newspapers on the dining room table, and went to hug Phyllis.
I got you a present.
“Really? So nice of you! What is it?”
I enrolled you in a yoga class. I found the studio doors open. It is a special class for people who cannot stand on one leg.
“Are you going?”
I can stand on one leg. See?
I stood on one leg for five seconds.
I do not want to make the other participants feel inferior. You can go to a class and let me know if you think if it is appropriate for my level.
“Which other participants?”
Well, as of now, they only have one. They will call us if someone else signs up.
“How limited is this other person?”
Motorized wheelchair.
I muttered this in a barely audible tone.
But don´t be judgmental. The appointments person just had a stroke.
“Is he leading the class?”
I did not ask. I guess you just must go and find out.
She looked at me with THE LOOK. I turned my eyes down. She began to laugh hysterically.
“This is going to be just like that SNL episode…”
This is the thing about us. We laugh together so much; we have seen so much comedy; we know what the other has found funny in the past.
I know. Do not worry. The way it seems they run that studio, they will never call you back.
It has been a week. No calls yet. We have started the search for another yoga class location.
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