From March 29 to April 4 my normal yoga studio was closed for spring cleaning and so it was up to me to figure out how and where I was going to practice this week. This opened up the opportunity for me to do three things.
1. Practice yoga with my friends who have expressed interest in the past but have never tried it
2. Sample different studios and styles of yoga
3. Prove to people who say that yoga is too expensive that you can practice every day in New York City for little to no cost (or conversely, fail miserably and be sad that something that I really enjoy is unaffordable to the masses).
From these, the Yoga on $5 or Less Project was born.
After hours and hours of research I found that there are a lot of affordable options out there. Here's what I found.
Free classes
Lululemon Soho
Vinyasa
Yoga-apparel store that hosts free vinyasa yoga classes almost weekly
http://www.lululemon.com/newyork/soho
Vira Yoga Soho
Anusara
M 7:30-9am and F 8-9:30am
http://www.virayoga.com/home.htm
Donation-based classes (pay as you wish)
Atmananda Noho
Vinyasa
M-F 12:30-1:30; MWF 4-5
www.atmananda.com
Do Yoga Do Pilates
Vinayasa
All classes
www.doyogaandpilates.com
Laughing Lotus Chelsea
Vinyasa
M-F 2:30-3:45
http://nyc.laughinglotus.com/
Om Yoga Factory Hell's Kitchen
Vinyasa
T 4-5 and W 10-11am
www.omfactorynyc.com
Reflections Yoga Times Square
Kundalini/Rasa
Sa 2-3:30; Su 1:30-3
www.reflectionsyoga.com
The Shala Yoga House Union Square
Ashtanga/Vinyasa
M 8:30-10pm and Su 12:15-1:45
www.theshala.com
Shambhala Yoga and Dance Center Prospect Heights
Vinyasa
M 6:30-7:45pm; T 7-8am; T/Th 5:30-6:45; F 12:30-1:45
http://www.shambhalayogadance.com/
Yoga to the People Multiple locations
Vinyasa or Power (depending on the location)
All classes (about 8 are offered M-F; plus Sa & SU)
http://yogatothepeople.com
Reduced price classes
Om Yoga Union Square
Vinyasa
Su and W at 9:30; M at 1:30; $5
www.omyoga.com
Integral Yoga Institute NY (also free first time class) West Village
Hatha
F at 6:15; $5
http://www.iyiny.org/
Yoga Vida Washington Square
All classes are $5 for students
www.yogavidanyc.com
First class free
Sivanda Chelsea
Hatha
www.sivananda.org
Yoga Sutra Midtown East
Ashtanga/Iyengar/Vinyasa
www.yogasutranyc.com/
Yogaworks (first week free!) Multiple locations
Vinyasa/Ashtanga
www.yogaworks.com
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Day 6: When Less is More
EAT:
There are two main ways that people tend to judge the food scene in a place. One method is to go to the best of the best restaurants. The Zagat becomes your bible. You ask for recommendations at every turn. Yelp for four star ratings. And in this method, you certainly learn what it means to eat well in a place.
But the problem is that no one eats at Chez Panisse every night. Le Bec Fin is saved for special occasions. Balthazar isn't going to tell you what families with two children and a dog eat like. And so to get the non-touristy take on food, you gotta go with option number 2.
In this option, you judge the food scene on the low-end options. The holes in the wall. The little eateries on the corner. Hospital food. Now this tells you a bit more of how much people care about what happens on their plate.
So on Monday, I ate where most people choose to avoid: the college cafeteria. I had chatted with some Stanford students and the general consensus was that the food there wasn't that great. Some said it was "good," others said "decent," but no one was wowed by it.
At least no one other than me.
The menu was far more interesting than I would have guessed from the lackluster reviews I had received. They had offerings like mushroom pizza with truffle oil. But just because a description sounds good doesn't mean you're not going to get a plate of reheated frozen vegetables. So as I ordered my sweet potato and sage soup and my latina salad (with black beans, corn, jicama, lime juice and queso), I tried to dampen by expectations.
When I got my soup I braced myself for the worst. The main cause of my nervousness was that the soup was white in color, which is somewhat troubling since sweet potatoes are typically orange. But I took a sip anyway, and it was amazing. The pieces of fresh sage floating int he soup provided a burst of earthy flavor. I suspect it was also heavy on the heavy cream, which created this rich, comforting texture that made me want to go back to the Intercontinetal Hotel and curl up by the fireplace. The salad was also well above average with its light, spicy dressing, although probably not something that I would write home about.
DRINK:
I met a friend for happy hour drinks at Elixir in downtown San Francisco. I asked what wheat beers they had on tap, and the bartender said they didn't have any (which was puzzling as it looked - and tasted - like my friend was having a wheat bear...but hey I'm not a professional so I will trust his word on it). I then asked what was local, and he mumbled something about a Berkeley beer that I didn't catch the name of. I ordered it, and after one sip I wish I had heard the name. The beer tasted a bit like urine and I would love to avoid having that experience again. For my next round, I got the non-wheat wheat-tasting beer, which was a satisfying way to close up my last night in warm weather San Francisco.
YOGA:
So for my last yoga class in San Francisco, I wanted to mix it up by trying a style of yoga that I had never done before. My first thought was to go to a Bhakti flow class with yoga personality Rusty Wells who is rumored to teach these wild, somewhat eclectic classes. However, Rusty doesn't believe in renting yoga mats because he finds it unhygienic (which it usually is), and that made it logistically impossible for me to go there as a yoga tourist on this trip. My second thought was to go to a Dharma Mittra style class at Yoga Loft. Failure. The class was cancelled. So I ended up taking a beginning Hatha class at Yoga Loft instead.
Generally, I really enjoy fundamental classes. Getting back to basics helps me refocus my attention on some alignment issues that I have gotten lazy about. It's a nice check in to make sure my foundation is strong. However, this class was baffling to me. After two sets of lunging sun salutations, the teacher had us turn our mats so that they were parallel to the front of the room to do standing poses. This choice was strange and unusual as we could have just easily moved our bodies to face the right side of the room while leaving our mats where they were. It seemed like an unnecessary addition the class.
Then over the course of the class there were some other inefficiencies. She had us get up on two separate occasions to grab additional props and then had us also leave our mats to return these props before continuing our practice(as it so happened it turned out that keeping these props neatly by our mats would have been better as they would come in handy later in the class). Again, bizarre.
But perhaps the most unsettling part of the class for me was all the chit-chat. The teacher talked and talked and talked about every pose. And as she was waxing on about the importance of minute movements of the thigh bones, I was wondering if any of these newbies had any idea what she was talking about. By the end of the class, we had done no more than 10 poses.
This class made me look forward to my return to New York for my teacher who is less talk and more do. Like his teacher Pattabhi Jois, he teaches with an understanding that yoga is "99% practice, 1% theory."
There are two main ways that people tend to judge the food scene in a place. One method is to go to the best of the best restaurants. The Zagat becomes your bible. You ask for recommendations at every turn. Yelp for four star ratings. And in this method, you certainly learn what it means to eat well in a place.
But the problem is that no one eats at Chez Panisse every night. Le Bec Fin is saved for special occasions. Balthazar isn't going to tell you what families with two children and a dog eat like. And so to get the non-touristy take on food, you gotta go with option number 2.
In this option, you judge the food scene on the low-end options. The holes in the wall. The little eateries on the corner. Hospital food. Now this tells you a bit more of how much people care about what happens on their plate.
So on Monday, I ate where most people choose to avoid: the college cafeteria. I had chatted with some Stanford students and the general consensus was that the food there wasn't that great. Some said it was "good," others said "decent," but no one was wowed by it.
At least no one other than me.
The menu was far more interesting than I would have guessed from the lackluster reviews I had received. They had offerings like mushroom pizza with truffle oil. But just because a description sounds good doesn't mean you're not going to get a plate of reheated frozen vegetables. So as I ordered my sweet potato and sage soup and my latina salad (with black beans, corn, jicama, lime juice and queso), I tried to dampen by expectations.
When I got my soup I braced myself for the worst. The main cause of my nervousness was that the soup was white in color, which is somewhat troubling since sweet potatoes are typically orange. But I took a sip anyway, and it was amazing. The pieces of fresh sage floating int he soup provided a burst of earthy flavor. I suspect it was also heavy on the heavy cream, which created this rich, comforting texture that made me want to go back to the Intercontinetal Hotel and curl up by the fireplace. The salad was also well above average with its light, spicy dressing, although probably not something that I would write home about.
DRINK:
I met a friend for happy hour drinks at Elixir in downtown San Francisco. I asked what wheat beers they had on tap, and the bartender said they didn't have any (which was puzzling as it looked - and tasted - like my friend was having a wheat bear...but hey I'm not a professional so I will trust his word on it). I then asked what was local, and he mumbled something about a Berkeley beer that I didn't catch the name of. I ordered it, and after one sip I wish I had heard the name. The beer tasted a bit like urine and I would love to avoid having that experience again. For my next round, I got the non-wheat wheat-tasting beer, which was a satisfying way to close up my last night in warm weather San Francisco.
YOGA:
So for my last yoga class in San Francisco, I wanted to mix it up by trying a style of yoga that I had never done before. My first thought was to go to a Bhakti flow class with yoga personality Rusty Wells who is rumored to teach these wild, somewhat eclectic classes. However, Rusty doesn't believe in renting yoga mats because he finds it unhygienic (which it usually is), and that made it logistically impossible for me to go there as a yoga tourist on this trip. My second thought was to go to a Dharma Mittra style class at Yoga Loft. Failure. The class was cancelled. So I ended up taking a beginning Hatha class at Yoga Loft instead.
Generally, I really enjoy fundamental classes. Getting back to basics helps me refocus my attention on some alignment issues that I have gotten lazy about. It's a nice check in to make sure my foundation is strong. However, this class was baffling to me. After two sets of lunging sun salutations, the teacher had us turn our mats so that they were parallel to the front of the room to do standing poses. This choice was strange and unusual as we could have just easily moved our bodies to face the right side of the room while leaving our mats where they were. It seemed like an unnecessary addition the class.
Then over the course of the class there were some other inefficiencies. She had us get up on two separate occasions to grab additional props and then had us also leave our mats to return these props before continuing our practice(as it so happened it turned out that keeping these props neatly by our mats would have been better as they would come in handy later in the class). Again, bizarre.
But perhaps the most unsettling part of the class for me was all the chit-chat. The teacher talked and talked and talked about every pose. And as she was waxing on about the importance of minute movements of the thigh bones, I was wondering if any of these newbies had any idea what she was talking about. By the end of the class, we had done no more than 10 poses.
This class made me look forward to my return to New York for my teacher who is less talk and more do. Like his teacher Pattabhi Jois, he teaches with an understanding that yoga is "99% practice, 1% theory."
Day 5: The Intercontinental Hotel
My friend and I escaped the hustle and bustle of San Francisco to spend a night at the luxurious Intercontinetal Hotel in Monterey. We are two people who love hotels. We don't care so much about the sites. We love the opportunity to take a bubble bath, the fluffy bathrobes and slippers, the large screen cable television, the small bottles of skincare products...we love it all. We ate in the hotel. We drank in the hotel. We didn't think about yoga in the hotel. Overall it was an excellent day.
EAT:
When I go out to eat, I like to order items that I can't make at home. Sometimes I choose things that would require too many ingredients or equipment that I don't have. Sometimes I choose things that aren't particularly difficult to make but are incredibly time-consuming. Or sometimes I choose things that should be simple but I have managed to repeatedly fail at making.
So as I skimmed the menu at the C restaurant and lounge at the Intercontinental (trying very hard to ignore the fact that someone thought it was clever to bold all of the letter Cs in the menu), my eyes naturally fell on the diver scallops.
Anyone who has ever had my scallops (and I'd like to take this time to apologize again) knows exactly what failure tastes like. Scallops are absorbent little suckers, so one of my biggest mistakes was to be overzealous with the lemon, creating an entree that forced all of my dinner guests' lips to pucker. Another issue is that scallops have that ambiguous white color which gives little clue to whether you have undercooked them or overcooked them (both of which I have done on separate occasions...and, well honestly, sometimes on the same occasion).
These scallops were delightful. Propped up like islands in a bowl of mushroom and leek stew, they were flavorful, cooked in the middle, and lacking that rubbery texture that comes when they are overdone.
The dessert was equally good. My dinner partner and I shared their upscale version of a banana split. The bananas were wrapped in a shell of crystallized sugar, and instead of your ordinary ice cream flavors, the chef swapped in gelato: pistachio, chocolate and a vanilla with a raspberry sauce. The weakest link was the chocolate gelato, which was far too rich for the dish. Otherwise, it was pleasurable ending to the meal.
DRINK:
I drank something called Absolut Pearadise while sitting by a fire on the hotel's deck listening to the ocean lap up against the beach. 'Nough said.
YOGA:
Couldn't bring myself to practice yoga. Got a (hotel) massage instead.
EAT:
When I go out to eat, I like to order items that I can't make at home. Sometimes I choose things that would require too many ingredients or equipment that I don't have. Sometimes I choose things that aren't particularly difficult to make but are incredibly time-consuming. Or sometimes I choose things that should be simple but I have managed to repeatedly fail at making.
So as I skimmed the menu at the C restaurant and lounge at the Intercontinental (trying very hard to ignore the fact that someone thought it was clever to bold all of the letter Cs in the menu), my eyes naturally fell on the diver scallops.
Anyone who has ever had my scallops (and I'd like to take this time to apologize again) knows exactly what failure tastes like. Scallops are absorbent little suckers, so one of my biggest mistakes was to be overzealous with the lemon, creating an entree that forced all of my dinner guests' lips to pucker. Another issue is that scallops have that ambiguous white color which gives little clue to whether you have undercooked them or overcooked them (both of which I have done on separate occasions...and, well honestly, sometimes on the same occasion).
These scallops were delightful. Propped up like islands in a bowl of mushroom and leek stew, they were flavorful, cooked in the middle, and lacking that rubbery texture that comes when they are overdone.
The dessert was equally good. My dinner partner and I shared their upscale version of a banana split. The bananas were wrapped in a shell of crystallized sugar, and instead of your ordinary ice cream flavors, the chef swapped in gelato: pistachio, chocolate and a vanilla with a raspberry sauce. The weakest link was the chocolate gelato, which was far too rich for the dish. Otherwise, it was pleasurable ending to the meal.
DRINK:
I drank something called Absolut Pearadise while sitting by a fire on the hotel's deck listening to the ocean lap up against the beach. 'Nough said.
YOGA:
Couldn't bring myself to practice yoga. Got a (hotel) massage instead.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Day 4: Hurts so good
EAT:
While I haven't had California sushi before this trip, I just had a feeling that it would be amazing. So I was very excited to I have lunch today at Fuji Japanese Restaurant. Unfortunately, it didn't quite live up to my high expectations. The volcano roll was fantastic, crunchy, flavorful, filling, and I would recommend it for anyone who goes there. But overall, the raw fish in the sushi was good, but not great.
DRINK:
I went to a dive bar called Mervyn's in Mountain View this evening. It was like one those sad bars that I have seen only in dramatic movies set somewhere in the rust belt. It was a small airless room. A wife and husband with their coats still on taking up one of the four booths in the place. A bunch of older solo drinkers were glued to the stools near the bar. One wild-haired woman had a glass of a whiskey and a Bud Light in front of her and muttered to herself all evening. No fancy cocktails could be ordered here. I was vetoed when I asked for a Jack and ginger. But there was a juke box in the corner and the drinks were cheap. Who could ask for anything more?
YOGA:
The thing about being a yoga tourist is that you don't really know what to expect from any class that you go to. Sure you may know what style you're choosing, but there is so much variety within schools of yoga that the title doesn't tell you much. So you try to look around for hints and clues of what is to come. Are students carrying water bottles? How many props do people grab? Is there a harmonium set up in the corner? These things are important signs.
When I arrived at Yoga Tree San Francisco at the Castro location, I noticed that there was a large group of people who showed up incredibly early for the 11 class. It was 1045 and at least 10 to 15 people had already arrived (note: there was on average 15 people total in attendance at all the other yoga classes I have taken this week). First sign: big class.
Then the doors opened to the practice space and the earlier class poured out followed by a gust of warm wind followed them. Heated room. This is another sign.
And as I walked in to set down my mat, I saw a staff member with a mop in hand and towels wrapped around the feet, sashaying across the floor to wipe up the sweat. My neighbors were not only unrolling their mats but had rugs and towels too. And then I knew.
I was about to get my butt kicked.
By 11am about 75 people filled the room. This is the largest class I have been to that wasn't a special workshop. There is something intense about chanting with so many people in one room. It's like the vibrations echo within your body. Like your insides are hollowed out and replaced with an echoing church organ.
And then the class began. Extensive lunging sequences. Quad-burning ukatasana sequences. Leg lifts. Arm balance after arm balance. Ab work. Bind here. Bind there. Midway through the class, one of the assistants brought me a towel because it looked like I was going to slip off my mat. It was the type of challenging yoga class where your mind can't wander, because you need all of your energy and focus just to make it through the hour and a half.
Yes, it was hard and I could already feel my body becoming sore, but boy was that savasana sweet.
While I haven't had California sushi before this trip, I just had a feeling that it would be amazing. So I was very excited to I have lunch today at Fuji Japanese Restaurant. Unfortunately, it didn't quite live up to my high expectations. The volcano roll was fantastic, crunchy, flavorful, filling, and I would recommend it for anyone who goes there. But overall, the raw fish in the sushi was good, but not great.
DRINK:
I went to a dive bar called Mervyn's in Mountain View this evening. It was like one those sad bars that I have seen only in dramatic movies set somewhere in the rust belt. It was a small airless room. A wife and husband with their coats still on taking up one of the four booths in the place. A bunch of older solo drinkers were glued to the stools near the bar. One wild-haired woman had a glass of a whiskey and a Bud Light in front of her and muttered to herself all evening. No fancy cocktails could be ordered here. I was vetoed when I asked for a Jack and ginger. But there was a juke box in the corner and the drinks were cheap. Who could ask for anything more?
YOGA:
The thing about being a yoga tourist is that you don't really know what to expect from any class that you go to. Sure you may know what style you're choosing, but there is so much variety within schools of yoga that the title doesn't tell you much. So you try to look around for hints and clues of what is to come. Are students carrying water bottles? How many props do people grab? Is there a harmonium set up in the corner? These things are important signs.
When I arrived at Yoga Tree San Francisco at the Castro location, I noticed that there was a large group of people who showed up incredibly early for the 11 class. It was 1045 and at least 10 to 15 people had already arrived (note: there was on average 15 people total in attendance at all the other yoga classes I have taken this week). First sign: big class.
Then the doors opened to the practice space and the earlier class poured out followed by a gust of warm wind followed them. Heated room. This is another sign.
And as I walked in to set down my mat, I saw a staff member with a mop in hand and towels wrapped around the feet, sashaying across the floor to wipe up the sweat. My neighbors were not only unrolling their mats but had rugs and towels too. And then I knew.
I was about to get my butt kicked.
By 11am about 75 people filled the room. This is the largest class I have been to that wasn't a special workshop. There is something intense about chanting with so many people in one room. It's like the vibrations echo within your body. Like your insides are hollowed out and replaced with an echoing church organ.
And then the class began. Extensive lunging sequences. Quad-burning ukatasana sequences. Leg lifts. Arm balance after arm balance. Ab work. Bind here. Bind there. Midway through the class, one of the assistants brought me a towel because it looked like I was going to slip off my mat. It was the type of challenging yoga class where your mind can't wander, because you need all of your energy and focus just to make it through the hour and a half.
Yes, it was hard and I could already feel my body becoming sore, but boy was that savasana sweet.
Day 3: And still not a single sun salutation
EAT:
Every time I go to a Thai place, I want to order the pad thai but then force myself to choose something more out of the ordinary. But I'm on vacation now so when I got the
Cafe Osha menu I barely glanced at the other options before deciding that the standard rules would not apply.
My pad thai arrived a little bit faster than it would seem possible to cook a dish. The presentation was exquisite. The portion was generous. All that was left was to taste it.
The bean sprouts were cold and crisp, contrasting with the warm, tangy noodles. The crushed peanuts and well-seasoned tofu added texture and complexity. But the prawns proved to be the weakest link. Not only were they bland, they were cold in a middle.
But not all was lost on eating today. I enjoyed a delicious home-cooked dinner at a college friend's house and brought desserts for us to enjoy from Tartine Bakery. The bananna creme tart was delicate and smooth. The chocolate chip cookies were crisp and buttery with nice chunks of chocolate. And the lone chocolate walnut cookie I treated myself to was moist on the inside and had a satisfying nutty crunch with each bite.
DRINK:
Two wine consultants were in attendance at the dinner party I was at. I drank very well but I can't tell you what it was.
YOGA:
The first yoga class I attended was a lunchtime flow at Satoria Yoga Studio. The teacher was petite, blonde, and had a chipper, high-pitched voice. In what I can only imagine was an attempt to prove that she was more fierce than her appearance otherwise suggested, she had a lion tattoo etched onto her upper arm. Perhaps not the most yogic of choices...
In her one-hour class she created a sweet, non-competitive atmosphere. This was a class designed to help people briefly escape from the tension and stress of the work day. And it nearly succeeded. We got all the way to savasana before someone sent a vase crashing to the wooden floor and cried "oh shit!" so loudly that it jarred us out of our peaceful stillness.
My second class was at Yoga Kula, an anusura-style studio. I have never practiced anusura before and so I didn't know at all what to expect. Did I sign myself for a rigorous, physically intense experience or was I going to sit in a circle with my eyes closed for an hour and half shining my heart to the sky?
Luckily the pendulum swung somewhere in the middle. The teacher started the class relaying a story that he read in the newspaper of a man who started off with a red paper clip and made exchanges with person after person after person - trading up with each interaction - until at the end he got what he was aiming for, a year in a palatial house. The teacher then related this to the yoga practice. How we start on the mat as red paper clips and have the opportunity to make exchanges with ourselves that will get us closer to the physical expression we are looking for.
This was the abstract theme of the class. The physical theme was on finding the internal spiraling of the thigh in various poses. We did a bunch of exercises that seemed like something straight out of a Lamaze class to access this movement. The teacher would check in to see if we were feeling a burning sensation in the thighs. My neighbors would nod knowingly, and I desperately wanted to join them, but after intense moments of concentration I would ultimately have to admit that I just didn't get it.
One of the last poses of the evening was half moon. My inability to balance was inspiring mental images of me falling over and toppling my fellow yogis like dominoes. But then the teacher encouraged us to rotate the inner thigh and suddenly it clicked. I found the subtle adjustment and everything about the pose became easier. There was lightness in one leg and steadiness in the other.
I had traded up.
Every time I go to a Thai place, I want to order the pad thai but then force myself to choose something more out of the ordinary. But I'm on vacation now so when I got the
Cafe Osha menu I barely glanced at the other options before deciding that the standard rules would not apply.
My pad thai arrived a little bit faster than it would seem possible to cook a dish. The presentation was exquisite. The portion was generous. All that was left was to taste it.
The bean sprouts were cold and crisp, contrasting with the warm, tangy noodles. The crushed peanuts and well-seasoned tofu added texture and complexity. But the prawns proved to be the weakest link. Not only were they bland, they were cold in a middle.
But not all was lost on eating today. I enjoyed a delicious home-cooked dinner at a college friend's house and brought desserts for us to enjoy from Tartine Bakery. The bananna creme tart was delicate and smooth. The chocolate chip cookies were crisp and buttery with nice chunks of chocolate. And the lone chocolate walnut cookie I treated myself to was moist on the inside and had a satisfying nutty crunch with each bite.
DRINK:
Two wine consultants were in attendance at the dinner party I was at. I drank very well but I can't tell you what it was.
YOGA:
The first yoga class I attended was a lunchtime flow at Satoria Yoga Studio. The teacher was petite, blonde, and had a chipper, high-pitched voice. In what I can only imagine was an attempt to prove that she was more fierce than her appearance otherwise suggested, she had a lion tattoo etched onto her upper arm. Perhaps not the most yogic of choices...
In her one-hour class she created a sweet, non-competitive atmosphere. This was a class designed to help people briefly escape from the tension and stress of the work day. And it nearly succeeded. We got all the way to savasana before someone sent a vase crashing to the wooden floor and cried "oh shit!" so loudly that it jarred us out of our peaceful stillness.
My second class was at Yoga Kula, an anusura-style studio. I have never practiced anusura before and so I didn't know at all what to expect. Did I sign myself for a rigorous, physically intense experience or was I going to sit in a circle with my eyes closed for an hour and half shining my heart to the sky?
Luckily the pendulum swung somewhere in the middle. The teacher started the class relaying a story that he read in the newspaper of a man who started off with a red paper clip and made exchanges with person after person after person - trading up with each interaction - until at the end he got what he was aiming for, a year in a palatial house. The teacher then related this to the yoga practice. How we start on the mat as red paper clips and have the opportunity to make exchanges with ourselves that will get us closer to the physical expression we are looking for.
This was the abstract theme of the class. The physical theme was on finding the internal spiraling of the thigh in various poses. We did a bunch of exercises that seemed like something straight out of a Lamaze class to access this movement. The teacher would check in to see if we were feeling a burning sensation in the thighs. My neighbors would nod knowingly, and I desperately wanted to join them, but after intense moments of concentration I would ultimately have to admit that I just didn't get it.
One of the last poses of the evening was half moon. My inability to balance was inspiring mental images of me falling over and toppling my fellow yogis like dominoes. But then the teacher encouraged us to rotate the inner thigh and suddenly it clicked. I found the subtle adjustment and everything about the pose became easier. There was lightness in one leg and steadiness in the other.
I had traded up.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Day 2: Donuts and burritos and pears. Oh my!
EAT:
I don't like donuts. I know, I know they are fried and covered with sugar: what's not to like? But I can't help it. The Krispy Kreme phenomenon was lost on me. I only go into Dunkin Donuts to use the bathroom. Give me a cookie, a brownie, ice cream or pie. Just please don't make me eat donuts.
Unless of course they are Dynamo Donuts. This place came highly recommended. I was told stories of people traveling more than an hour to get donuts at the lone location just to be turned away as they were sold out by 10:30am. With this type of recommendation, and the fact that it was conveniently located near the apartment I stayed at my first night, I dutifully looked up the address and put it in my mental filing cabinet.
Like most things that I file away in this manner, I misplaced the information. I was convinced that it was located just a block away from the 24th and mission subway stop. Walking with purpose toward the BART, I caught a whiff of warm sweetness emanating from a coffee shop. I stopped in my tracks and thought to myself that I would abandon my breakfast plans to order something from this unassuming, roadside eatery. As I backtracked, I made out the words on the awning - it was Dynamo Donuts. I accidentally found what I was looking for.
Decisiveness is not my strong point, so I purchased two donuts. The lemon pistachio, which looked interesting and innovative to me, and the spiced chocolate, which I was told was the most popular choice. I had the lemon pistachio first and I thought it was OK. Probably one of the better donuts I have had, but a donut just the same. But then I bit into the spiced chocolate, and it was like a whole new world opened up for me. Dusted with cinnamon, nutmeg, (possibly cloves), it was as comforting as a mug of hot chocolate in the middle of snowstorm.
Lunch had a lot to live up to, and yet, it managed to surpass my expectations. Burritos in the Mission district of San Francisco are famous for their fattiness, heartiness, yummy goodness and, of course, their true Mexican flavor. They are the kinds of places that aren't afraid to cook their beans in lard and slap on sour cream with gusto. But there is also another popular type of burrito in the Bay area that sacrifices some authenticity for a uniquely California twist of fresh, local farmers market ingredients. We went to Picoso Taqueria, which squarely falls in the second camp. On the recommendation of the friendly owner, I ordered the shrimp super burrito (filled with rice, sour cream, black beans and guacamole). I watched as they hand-pressed our flour tortillas, and yet I was still astounded by the light, smooth-textured taste of it.
Following lunch, we got cupcakes from Love at First Bite. It was pitched to me as having the best cupcakes my friend has had (and she's a native New Yorker). I ordered the strawberry cupcake. And I will admit that the first bite was like an explosion of strawberries in my mouth. It tasted as if it were made with buckets and buckets of fresh strawberries. However, in the end, it was a bit on the sweet side for me.
Then we went to the farmer's market were I sampled home-made conserves (not to be confused with jam, which apparently is made with 50% sugar), ripe pears and creamy yogurt. I was on the edge of feeling like I couldn't eat anymore when I purchased an oyster that made me feel like I dived to the depths of the Pacific Ocean (in a good way). The oyster was so good, I might be fated to never eat an oyster outside California ever again.
DRINK:
I ate too much food. No room for drinks.
YOGA:
I almost feel like it is unfair to critique the "vinyasa" class I took at Yoga Mandala tonight. By the time the 6pm class started, I still felt stuffed from lunch and was experiencing severe jet lag. Dark room, 20 minutes of eyes closed meditation, and I was goner. When the teacher did finally have us start moving(choosing to make us hold poses for a long time as opposed to flowing from one posture to another), I started to feel resentful that she was keeping me awake. I fell asleep during savasana (the final resting pose), which left me in a groggy haze afterwards. As I stumbled out, I heard other people in the class thank the teacher for the experience and describe it as "delicious." I was (and am) only hungry for a good night's rest.
I don't like donuts. I know, I know they are fried and covered with sugar: what's not to like? But I can't help it. The Krispy Kreme phenomenon was lost on me. I only go into Dunkin Donuts to use the bathroom. Give me a cookie, a brownie, ice cream or pie. Just please don't make me eat donuts.
Unless of course they are Dynamo Donuts. This place came highly recommended. I was told stories of people traveling more than an hour to get donuts at the lone location just to be turned away as they were sold out by 10:30am. With this type of recommendation, and the fact that it was conveniently located near the apartment I stayed at my first night, I dutifully looked up the address and put it in my mental filing cabinet.
Like most things that I file away in this manner, I misplaced the information. I was convinced that it was located just a block away from the 24th and mission subway stop. Walking with purpose toward the BART, I caught a whiff of warm sweetness emanating from a coffee shop. I stopped in my tracks and thought to myself that I would abandon my breakfast plans to order something from this unassuming, roadside eatery. As I backtracked, I made out the words on the awning - it was Dynamo Donuts. I accidentally found what I was looking for.
Decisiveness is not my strong point, so I purchased two donuts. The lemon pistachio, which looked interesting and innovative to me, and the spiced chocolate, which I was told was the most popular choice. I had the lemon pistachio first and I thought it was OK. Probably one of the better donuts I have had, but a donut just the same. But then I bit into the spiced chocolate, and it was like a whole new world opened up for me. Dusted with cinnamon, nutmeg, (possibly cloves), it was as comforting as a mug of hot chocolate in the middle of snowstorm.
Lunch had a lot to live up to, and yet, it managed to surpass my expectations. Burritos in the Mission district of San Francisco are famous for their fattiness, heartiness, yummy goodness and, of course, their true Mexican flavor. They are the kinds of places that aren't afraid to cook their beans in lard and slap on sour cream with gusto. But there is also another popular type of burrito in the Bay area that sacrifices some authenticity for a uniquely California twist of fresh, local farmers market ingredients. We went to Picoso Taqueria, which squarely falls in the second camp. On the recommendation of the friendly owner, I ordered the shrimp super burrito (filled with rice, sour cream, black beans and guacamole). I watched as they hand-pressed our flour tortillas, and yet I was still astounded by the light, smooth-textured taste of it.
Following lunch, we got cupcakes from Love at First Bite. It was pitched to me as having the best cupcakes my friend has had (and she's a native New Yorker). I ordered the strawberry cupcake. And I will admit that the first bite was like an explosion of strawberries in my mouth. It tasted as if it were made with buckets and buckets of fresh strawberries. However, in the end, it was a bit on the sweet side for me.
Then we went to the farmer's market were I sampled home-made conserves (not to be confused with jam, which apparently is made with 50% sugar), ripe pears and creamy yogurt. I was on the edge of feeling like I couldn't eat anymore when I purchased an oyster that made me feel like I dived to the depths of the Pacific Ocean (in a good way). The oyster was so good, I might be fated to never eat an oyster outside California ever again.
DRINK:
I ate too much food. No room for drinks.
YOGA:
I almost feel like it is unfair to critique the "vinyasa" class I took at Yoga Mandala tonight. By the time the 6pm class started, I still felt stuffed from lunch and was experiencing severe jet lag. Dark room, 20 minutes of eyes closed meditation, and I was goner. When the teacher did finally have us start moving(choosing to make us hold poses for a long time as opposed to flowing from one posture to another), I started to feel resentful that she was keeping me awake. I fell asleep during savasana (the final resting pose), which left me in a groggy haze afterwards. As I stumbled out, I heard other people in the class thank the teacher for the experience and describe it as "delicious." I was (and am) only hungry for a good night's rest.
Day 1: Let the games begin
EAT:
Straight from the San Francisco airport, I headed to Berkeley to meet up with two old friends. When I exited the BART station, I walked right into 60 degree weather (!). Now I know that 60 degrees isn't terribly warm, but when you compare it to the 14 degree New York weather I left, this was cause for a celebration. I made a beeline for a street that looked like it had many cute eateries. And what did I have? Gelato. Nice, cold, creamy chocolate gelato from the Rockridge Market Hall.
I was still licking the chocolate off my fingers as my friends arrived with the expectation that we would be off to lunch. Luckily, since domestic flights have cut costs by stripping away any semblance of a substantial meal (even on an 8 hour flight), I was still a tad bit hungry. We went for Ethiopian. Like every other time I have gone for Ethiopian two things happened. 1) I ordered the veggie combo. 2) I ate myself sick. The food was fantastic (although admittedly, I am probably not the most discerning eater when it comes to Ethiopian). The real highlight was the decor though. We ate off of tables that had glass tops and when you looked into them, there were pulses and beans separated into separate sections to create a little feast for the eyes.
DRINK:
When deciding how to spend the evening, I challenged my friend to come up with a suggestion that was a little bit out of the ordinary. She racked her mind for awhile and came up with Bourbon & Branch. Back during prohibition, this was a speakeasy with 16 different secret entrances and exits (or so they claim). It has stayed true to its roots and operates with an air that something illicit is going on. Reservations must be made in order to get the password for entry. Cell phones are prohibited. Masked doors lead you into different parts of the establishment.
We were in the library, which has a limited drink menu, but shelves and shelves of battered, well-worn books. In other areas of the bar, you can peruse the anthology of labor-intensive drinks that they serve. But only one bartender mans the library and so we were given nine options. I chose the blood and sand - a whiskey-based drink that has enough sweetness to allow for a smooth ride as it wet the throat. Although I must admit, I preferred my friend's gimlet, which embodied everything that you crave on a hot summer day.
YOGA:
No time for yoga. The yoga tourism must wait a day.
Straight from the San Francisco airport, I headed to Berkeley to meet up with two old friends. When I exited the BART station, I walked right into 60 degree weather (!). Now I know that 60 degrees isn't terribly warm, but when you compare it to the 14 degree New York weather I left, this was cause for a celebration. I made a beeline for a street that looked like it had many cute eateries. And what did I have? Gelato. Nice, cold, creamy chocolate gelato from the Rockridge Market Hall.
I was still licking the chocolate off my fingers as my friends arrived with the expectation that we would be off to lunch. Luckily, since domestic flights have cut costs by stripping away any semblance of a substantial meal (even on an 8 hour flight), I was still a tad bit hungry. We went for Ethiopian. Like every other time I have gone for Ethiopian two things happened. 1) I ordered the veggie combo. 2) I ate myself sick. The food was fantastic (although admittedly, I am probably not the most discerning eater when it comes to Ethiopian). The real highlight was the decor though. We ate off of tables that had glass tops and when you looked into them, there were pulses and beans separated into separate sections to create a little feast for the eyes.
DRINK:
When deciding how to spend the evening, I challenged my friend to come up with a suggestion that was a little bit out of the ordinary. She racked her mind for awhile and came up with Bourbon & Branch. Back during prohibition, this was a speakeasy with 16 different secret entrances and exits (or so they claim). It has stayed true to its roots and operates with an air that something illicit is going on. Reservations must be made in order to get the password for entry. Cell phones are prohibited. Masked doors lead you into different parts of the establishment.
We were in the library, which has a limited drink menu, but shelves and shelves of battered, well-worn books. In other areas of the bar, you can peruse the anthology of labor-intensive drinks that they serve. But only one bartender mans the library and so we were given nine options. I chose the blood and sand - a whiskey-based drink that has enough sweetness to allow for a smooth ride as it wet the throat. Although I must admit, I preferred my friend's gimlet, which embodied everything that you crave on a hot summer day.
YOGA:
No time for yoga. The yoga tourism must wait a day.
One week in San Francisco
I arrived in San Francisco yesterday for one week. This is my third time in the Bay area, and so I have hit most of the major sites already. People keep asking me what I intend to do this time around. And I wish I could tell them that I had some grand purpose - I wish I could show them some impressive itinerary. But in reality, I am here simply to have the type of vacation that I rarely allow myself to enjoy. It's a week to eat, drink and practice yoga.
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