Yoga and the art of telling someone to shut up
For the last two months I have been taking two exercise classes at Friskis och Svettis, which I guess you could say is the Swedish equivalent of the YMCA/YWCA. The classes, Ki-Balans and Ki-Yoga, concentrate on improving balance, flexibility and giving you a sense of well-being--I know it sounds New Age-y and very unKim-like but I hurt my hip a few months ago and my naprapat (or manual medicine/sports injury specialist) advised me to start training again now that my injury had finally healed. She recommended these classes to me, stressing they'd keep my hip, thigh and lower back from becoming too stiff and they'd help improve my core.
Well, I figured Ki-Yoga/Ki-Balans twice a week was okay. My work schedule is weird but I have enough holes in it to accomodate two days a week at the gym. I really like attending both classes--though I sometimes have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at some of the goofy supposedly philosophical jargon the instructors come up with. Still, they do a great job of establishing a calm, conducive environment and the stretching exercises we do have really helped--no more pain and stiffness first thing in the morning, no more limping, no more having to sit down every few minutes because I was in too much pain to walk.
Yesterday, I arrived too late to join the early afternoon yoga class at F&S on Sveavägen so I decided I'd wait until 18:00, when another yoga class (with a different instructor) would meet at F&S behind NK. I usually don't go to F&S City--I am not sure why...I think it's because I like Annexet on St. Eriksgatan, F&S Karolinska Institute and F&S Sveavägen so much. All three are convenient and the changing rooms are spacious. F&S City just seems too crowded. Anyway, I managed to get the last ticket to the yoga class and was really looking forward to getting started. I'd felt stressed all day and thought an hour of relaxing music and stretching was just what the doctor ordered!
I grabbed a mat and situated myself near the back--I hate being right in the front. Initially, there were only two of us in the back row. About two minutes before class started, two teenagers arrived and plopped down beside me. I should have known from the giggles and beeping cell phones they'd be pains in the tookas. As soon as the lights were dimmed and the instructor turned on the music, the teeny-boppers began stage-whispering and squealing and giggling and making it difficult for me and the woman to my left to hear what the instructor was saying.
Several times, the instructor reminded all of us (though her comments seemed more directed at the teeny-boppers) to be quiet and listen to our breathing and to what our bodies were telling us as we stretched. This made the teeny-boppers squeal even more. I tried to keep my patience but they were really getting on my nerves. I shushed them twice, they stage-whispered even more. Someone else shushed them--their cell phones beeped in response, triggering yet another fit of squeals and giggles.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. The inner grouch in me emerged and hissed at them to shut up--not in polite Swedish, but in thorny, I-am-in-a-foul-mood-now American English. It did the trick. Their squeals ceased, giggles no longer spilled out of them and clouded the room--and everyone else seemed to let out a sigh of relief--or where they simply practicing their breathing and listening to their bodies? Who knows? All I can tell you is that I could finall hear what the instructor was saying and I was no longer distracted and annoyed by these two girls.
By the way, I never did make it to Umeå. I had too much to do and I kind of figured I wouldn't go. I shall wait for the next Kings of Convenience gig. Hopefully, it will be in Stockholm or someplace I am more interested in visiting. Until then, I will listen to my KoC CDs and dance around my apartment. I'll play a little Maria Mena in between and maybe even throw in a bit of Novastar and Neffa.
And I will wait for a little more sunshine because Stockholm is one rainy place this winter.