What do you do when you are feeling stressed? I have discovered Bikram (hot) yoga. My brother has been going on about it for a while, and I thought, why not! It is called hot yoga because it is done in a room temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit (over 40 degrees Celsius). Apparently the heat is good for relaxing your muscles. It is all the rage in the trendy parts of London but I guess you could do it anywhere in Cyprus in the summer and just close the windows and leave off the air con.
Bikram yoga consists of 26 postures and two breathing exercises completed in 90 minutes. You only get the real benefits if you stay in the room for the whole 90 minutes. They call it “kick ass yoga” because it is so physically and mentally demanding. I cannot say I am really one for exercise in general but the thought of acquiring a ‘focussed and still mind’ is quite appealing. However, not being overly optimistic about my ability to last the course of one 90-minute session, let alone take it up on a regular basis, I decided to give it a go with a drop-in class yesterday.
Having read my Bikram bible, I thought I was fully prepared. Or at least as prepared as I could be, given my general level of fitness. I made the fatal error of not removing my shoes before I walked into the reception area of the Soho yoga studio. I failed to notice the studio etiquette written all over the walls. What was I thinking? A rather fierce-looking woman, who probably would have been wearing lots of ethnic jewellery if she had been wearing anything at all, gently reprimanded me. I exaggerate slightly; she was wearing a towel and a swimming costume. After all it was hot in there.
But when I entered the changing rooms and noticed the large expanse of naked flesh and communal showers, I was really quite unnerved. I had been hoping that being Soho, it would attract a different kind of yoga-going person. It was all a tad too Greenham Common for my liking. I was determined to do it anyway. Why, I don’t know; I really am not keen on yoga and hate the heat. I must have had some subliminal Catholic guilt about something and wanted to punish myself.
The thing about yoga is, I am sure it is brilliant for you if you can actually do it. There was a woman in front of me who was irritatingly good at contorting her limbs and balancing on one leg. But it really isn’t easy. I spent far too much time fidgeting and watching others, which is apparently not very good for the ‘group energy’. I was pleased to see that I was not the only one. There were about 20 women, many of whom were not much better than me. And the three men in the class were pretty useless, so I was not alone.
Apart from the headache and the de-hydration after, I felt much better! My face was so flushed; it felt like I had had a very cheap but slightly uncomfortable facial if nothing else. My brother was impressed I lasted the 90 minutes. And the yoga teacher, Cindy, congratulated me, which obviously means she noticed me sitting out most of the 26 postures and wanted to encourage me. My hairdresser later told me she does it four times a week. Mad or what! But she does look good on it, so maybe if someone decides to start a class in Cyprus, I may give it another go….
