I promised an explanation

If you saw my facebook status a few (okay, many) days ago, I bragged a little. I mentioned a little joy and a big one.

First things first, the big one: my friend in Michigan was in a terrible car accident. Her car flipped going over 70 mph and was totaled. The paramedics expected her to be dead. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the cross her mom had pinned to her sunvisor and she walked away, as she told me, without a rip in her tights! Now, this is a girl previously unconvinced, but she posted the photos of her mangled car with the caption "GOD IS GOOD." Saved physically and spiritually-- a miracle without a doubt.

As for my little joy... The other day on my walk back from school, I stopped into the ritzy gym near my house to see if they offer yoga classes. I really miss LILA east end yoga in Portland, ME so I go in and talk to them and find out that yes, therés yoga every Saturday at 11, but you've gotta pay 400 pesos/month membership to take any (and all) classes. That's a great price if you can make it to the gym every day. Knowing me, I won't. But they offer me a free prueba (trial) and give me a little card saying so.

So Saturday comes and I gear up (Katy's floral hand-me-down leggings and tanktop). It's a beautiful, sunny summer day. A day without rain por fin!!
Inside, the gym is cleaner than my toothbrush and it smells like fake lemon. There's even plants and a patch of fake grass to wipe your shoes on. Upstairs, it's open and inviting. There's a spinning class going on and it's full of people in the zone. A few of us wait outside the other classroom for a few minutes before staking out our spots with yoga mats. We chat a bit. I get into child's pose, stretch out some. The instructor hasn't shown up yet. Looking out the window (which stretches the entire length of the building) to my right, I can make out the street I kept coming to on my very first neighborhood walk. I must've come to that intersection 5 times before finally choosing the right combination of rights and lefts to make it home. Funny how a few weeks can feel like a lifetime ago once you ubicarse (recognize, locate) where you are.

The instructor isn't there yet. Someone turns on the factory-size fan hanging from the ceiling. The Argentines are talking to each other and their accent sits nicely in my ears. Feels good to hear Castellano en siguiente (continuously), without any English breaking it up.

The pretty gym worker from downstairs is suddenly in the doorway, her voice choked off by tense shoulders raised halfway up to her ears. Her fingers of her left hand are spread, palm turned up, face botox straight. She's late, she tells us. She holds a cordless landline in her right hand. It rests against her spandex hip. And she's not picking up, she says.

This may be my first time with Argentines looking preoccupied about time. Also, bangs are back in style here. 3 out of 4 of the women have bangs. 3 out of 4 are blonde.

I don't know why they're worried. The instructor will come. That's how Argentines are-- they like to surprise. Just when you give up hope, they arrive with a beso on the cheek.
Maybe not this time.

Either way, the sun's pouring in as if the entire wall is made of pure light.

Some people standing along the edge of the room leave with folded arms.

I'm just happy to have a yoga mat. A few sun salutations in, I hear "ella... ella, sí" (she.. she..) and I check over my shoulder. A handful of people are staring at me, rolled mats poised between their hands. Seems like you could lead the class, one says. Ja-ja, I laugh. I'm not a professor, I say.

You could be, the man says back.

Clearly these are beginners. Still, a flush of adrenaline births in my body.

I go back to a resting pose. When I come out, they're still staring. "Do you mind?" one asks. "Um, no, I say."

And they roll out their mats behind me. When I breathe in, I hear a soft chorus of inhales around me. When I exhale, it amplifies. I swan dive and in the mirror, I see 3 pairs of eyes and then my own. It takes a lot to stop myself from laughing.

I get over it. We're just practicing together, the way it should be. After a few minutes though, I see the gym staff lining the window to my left. The door opens and a few more "students" come in. The slap of mats unrolling.

Aside from a few corrections and many "así"s and "estirá"s ("like this"s and "stretch"s), I don't say much with words. Instead, I try to lead just by example.

Eventually I get out of my head, back into my body and we hit every pose in a sequential, flowing fashion. Our impromptu class lasts an hour and 15 minutes in all, and afterwards the three originals stay to talk. We stay for half an hour or so and it's the happiest I've felt in while, just to have some stranger-social interaction... which is what I miss most about living downtown in the Capital (where you're always getting lost and thus asking randos for directions).

So that's the gist of how I lead an Argentine yoga class by accident! And for the record, I get another prueba, since "hiciste la clase vos!"("you yourself gave the class!").

All in all, a small thing...but good enough for me! :]