Yoga

Last week, LouieLouie was back in Nairobi to get the twins checked out.

Lex Luthor, The Wolf, LouieLouie, and myself went out for dinner.

We went to Tamarind downtown and had a lovely meal.  I had Szechwan duck sachets and some of LouieLouie’s oysters to start and pili pili prawns as an entree and we all had irish coffees for desert.  We departed to a particular club later on and the wolf departed early.  I pretended to be from norht ontreal and only speak french to avoid the hookers.  Lex Luthor and LouieLouie found this most amusing, but promptly headed for the dancefloor leaving not much of an exit strategy without blowing my cover.

In planning for the following day Lex Luthor said he wouldn’t be able to join us.  He was gonna go to Yoga.  I proceeded to take the piss.  It was all I could do.   I mean he was doing frickin yoga.  Lex Luthor proceeded to defend himself and the art saying it was quite a workout.  I countered by saying, “bullsh.  I could kick your ass at yoga.”

“Try it,” snorted Lex.

“No way,” I replied.

“Pansy,” said Lex, or something to that effect

I bet him the fee for the private session.  After I arrived home that night I realized the absurdity of it all; defending my masculinity by agreeing to yoga was like have a duel to settle an argument about gun violence.

I must admit I was somewhat nervous about trying it out, but a bet was a bet.  I had an ace up my sleeve, though.  I had told Lex that I did martial arts for a number of years.  He thought I was bluffing.

All in all, I didn’t really get it.  it was a lot of stretching, and it wasn’t at all relaxing.  I’m leaning on my forearms well under my back, my head arched back and my legs stretched out trying to keep my feet flat on the floor.

While juggling.

The swami walks over.

Am I doing it wrong?” I grunt

He shakes his head and steps gingerly on the top of my metatarsals pushing the balls of my feet to the mat.

“Dude,” I say from back of my mouth.  “Are you familiar with the term schadenfreude?”

“Relaaaaaahx,” he hissed.

“For the love of buddha, man!  How am I supposed to relax when my entire frame is contorted unnaturally?” Barked the InMo

The other that got me was the seriousness.  Doing martial arts, it made sense to be serious.  How could one not be serious learning to kill people?  But Yoga by it’s nature seemed silly.  It was a kind of goofy thing: “One foot here, arm here.  Now, straighten your knee.  OK.  Move your leg over here, pulverizing your genitals.  Good.”

Rolling around the floor in ridiculous positions abusing gonads, grunting and groaning, stretching and contorting I came to a conclusion:  yoga is frickin weird.

Needless to say, between sun salutation and ‘ommmms’ and all sorts of weird breathing techniques I won.   I nailed a full bridge first attempt and got my toes on the floor in on a half shoulderstand.

Then I roundhouse kicked something

It’s been a good little stay in Nairobi.  But come Monday, I’ll be chnepring from The ‘Dan.

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One Response to Yoga

  1. Izzy says:

    Hey, don’t diss yoga – good for martial arts too. And I bet Jen could kick your ass at yoga!

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