Yoga in Peru

Last year, my friend Luzma invited me to join her for a yoga class. I had taken yoga in the US and missed it, so I readily agreed. In addition to a yoga class, it proved to be an excellent Spanish class – left, right, up, down, breath in/out, parts of the body…I felt like I was getting a double bang for my buck. The instructor and other ladies in the class were very nice to me and patient with my limited Spanish skills and lack of cultural knowledge. For example, I learned that even in an exercise class, you greet everyone individually and give them the customary kiss on the cheek (in Peru, always one kiss, and everyone goes to the left). This means that even if you are already sitting on your mat, you get up every time someone enters the room. What a far cry from an exercise class that my friend and and I took for several years in Wisconsin during which we never learned anyone’s name and I am sure the instructor never knew ours! I also learned that the infamous Peruvian tardiness applied to classes as well – often I waited 15 minutes for anyone to arrive and once, because the class was held in a daycare, a father and I waited a half hour for anyone to show up to open the building. He was understandably upset; I just tried to be very “in the moment” and go with the flow, which is not my usual habit. The instructor, Patty, is a wonderfully kind woman and an excellent teacher and taught yoga how I like it: not as a exercise class but as a true yoga class designed to open your mind and body.

 

The class would have been harder with my limited Spanish had I not already practiced  yoga in English. One day Patty talked to the class about mandalas. Everyone seemed very enthusiastic and a date was set on which we would make mandalas. I hoped I was misunderstanding: it sounded like some sort of art project, and I am far from artistic. Ever since getting a mean frown face on my apple drawing on the first day of first grade, any art project fills me with great anxiety, particularly one in a group setting. I went home and googled mandala and discovered that a mandala is (more or less) a circular, cosmic design that represents the universe and is used as a meditation tool. Apparently we were going create our own mandalas in class. I was stressed out just thinking about it, which kind of defeats the purpose of yoga. Adding to my stress was that I had to go buy craft supplies to make my mandala. Here, you cannot just go to Target, browse and then select from an vast array of art supplies; you go to a stationery shop where everything is in a case or back on shelves, which means you need to know what you want and how to ask for it. I had no idea what I wanted apart from possibly skipping yoga class on the appointed day, but managed to come home with colored markers and a large sheet of poster board.

Mandala day arrived. We spread out our mats and our art supplies and began some meditation exercises before being let loose to make our mandalas. We were supposed to let the drawing just happen- meditate, draw, meditate, draw. I did my best to go with the mandala flow and actually was okay with the process. Then, to my horror, Patty began walking around the room and talking with each student about her mandala. More horrifying was that most students cried during the discussion. Apparently, I was missing something. It kind of reminded me of a cassette tape I have from when I was about 5 and I am pounding out a made-up tune on the piano and telling my dad what it meant (it was obviously around Easter as it was all about Jesus being crucified and resurrected, pretty deep for a 5 year old)! Sweet Patty got to me and we chatted about what I thought my mandala meant, but it did not bring me to tears. The final step in the mandala process is to burn it. I actually put mine up on a shelf and forgot about it, but will make sure to burn it soon!

Mandala

Mandala

Patty lost her space early this year and my classes ended. I missed them terribly and was delighted when she contacted me to say she was ready to teach again. Now, I have a private lesson twice a week. So far we have been able to have class outside in her backyard; despite the beginning of the rainy season, the rain usually holds off until the afternoon. I love having class outside despite the noise and occasional neighbor peeping at us!

Reading in a Second Language: A New Empathy for Slow Readers

I am a voracious reader. I have never understood how someone doesn’t get the same thrill from reading that I do. Reading transports you to a different world and introduces you to different people, albeit not usually real ones in my case as I much prefer fiction to non-fiction. I was in a book club for years (and still am an absentee member who greatly appreciates that my club will arrange meetings around my infrequent visits) and more than once my friends and I would comment that we missed the characters when we finished a book that we liked. When I was eating my breakfast as a kid, I would read the cereal box if nothing else was handy. In short, I can’t imagine a world without reading.

Some are old friends, some I was given - who says no to books in English when you live in Peru?

Some are old friends, some I was given – who says no to books in English when you live in Peru?

I am also lucky to be a fast reader. In my case, this skill is inherent and learned: in a “gifted and talented” summer school class when I was in middle school, we learned to speed read, among other things. I don’t recall any of the other things but speed reading aided me considerably while I was an undergraduate English major and, later, a law student. I am a hopeless procrastinator, so being a fast reader was even more necessary to my success. And it assisted my legal career as well – I could quickly read or skim many cases or regulations to locate what I needed. In retrospect this skill probably did not help my billable hour requirements…

So in my ongoing effort to learn Spanish, months ago I bought this:

My first novel in Spanish - don't judge

My first novel in Spanish.

Before you judge my reading choice, hear me out. First, I have been trying to find “To Kill a Mockingbird” in Spanish (“Matar un Ruiseñor”) for months. (See this post about my quest in Argentina: https://kerryedwyer.com/2014/01/27/our-highbrowlowbrow-day/.) It is my favorite book, wonderfully written and I know the text well, but despite stopping at every bookstore I pass in South America, I can’t find it. So instead of starting with an amazing classic, I went to the opposite end of the spectrum. I thought a light, chick-lit read would be perfect because I could get fast gratification when I zipped through it, the language would be easy and repetitive, and it would include always-useful slang. I resolved to read the book carefully – not just for the general gist, which would be relatively easy – but to actually understand the grammar and the words. Months later (okay, several vacations interrupted my task) and I am only on page 250 in a book that in English would take me two days to read.

It’s discouraging. I have come to hate this book. I don’t think I would have loved it had I read it in English, but I would have whipped through it, found it mildly amusing and moved on. Now I find it tedious because I am reading so slowly and never gain any momentum. While I have learned some words and improved my recognition of verb tenses, I probably learn more from the primary readers that I borrowed from the school library and the 3rd grade reader I use with my Spanish tutor.

So now I get it: reading isn’t always fun. Book selection is far more important when you are reading at a slower pace because you are investing more of your time in a book. Continuous stopping and starting ruins the flow of reading, so you need to connect more with the book in order to remember what you read several days prior. I can’t imagine reading as much as I read in English if it took me ten times as long to finish a book. I would simply lose interest unless the book was really great. And this book isn’t.

Pure stubbornness is the only reason I will see this project through to the end.