Yoga

I wanted to like the idea of taking my meals cross-legged on the floor. I had romantic thoughts of gazing out at a sea of side dishes appearing all the more endless from an eye-level vantage point. Formal, and yet relaxed (no doubt aided by the absence of shoes), I longed to plunge my chopsticks family style into every tiny plate within reach and help myself to the sweet and spicy, savory flavors of Korea. Unfortunately, sitting cross-legged for more than five minutes is a pain in the ass.

When a Koren sits with his or her legs crossed, their knees come in contact with the floor effortlessly. Mine are up at 45 degree angles. During every group dinner, my teachers comment on how mysterious my legs are, and laugh as they watch me attempt to drag myself out of the establishment after loss of blood has rendered a leg asleep and useless. More than once I have had to crawl out on my elbows like a soldier in the trenches of WWI. Only instead of having lost a limb from a lobbed grenade, my only injury is a sleepy, tingly bun.

So when Sami found out about a free yoga class in Seoul, I decided to tag along. Why not try and get those 45 degree angles down to 30s? Plus, she said we could get lunch afterward.

The class in Seoul is nice. The instructors use Korean and English, a rare treat, and the moves are simple. The main focus of the session is breathing and relaxation. It is not uncommon to hear one or more participants snoring loudly near the end.

More than anything, the free Saturday class has helped me fall asleep quicker at night. Breathe in for 4 seconds, out for 8. Relax. Sami liked the yoga studio so much that she signed up for another couple of sessions and goes up to five times a week, even though it is an hour each way on the subway. When she gets home, she regales me with stories from the subway (she got shushed for speaking in English too loudly, or some man got up and walked away from her when she sat down next to him), or about how somebody farted in class (apparently there is one position that really pushes them outta folks).

I even found out about a free yoga class every Friday at my school. Unfortunately, only one teacher and myself go regularly and one time I was the only one besides the instructor. Since she doesn't speak in English, our one on one session was particularly awkward. I am always worried that I am going to pass gas in this small class, but I have taught myself a way to relax my lower half and release the dirty gas in such a way that it emits a puff rather than a rice crispy (snap, crackle pop). I have yet to teach myself how to mask the smell other than to stop eating so much kimchi.

Unlike the fancy studio Sami goes to, my school yoga is done in the conference room which has a hard, tiled floor. You can hear kids running in the hallway and gawking at the long limbed white person inside. One time a group of about four teachers were preparing the room for a meeting- not the most serene environment.

What it lacks in peacefulness, it more than makes up for in intensity. Some of the maneuvers have left me whipped, and the instructor never fails to add in serious core and muscle strengthening exercises. So while I may not be able to sit cross legged at a meal for a respectable amount of time, I am able to stand on my head or shoulder, bring my feet to my head, and hold in a fart.