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Le chien en bas: Downward Dog in French
The Sanskrit word for yoga
The entrance to my yoga studio is a big, weathered-looking wooden door, which opens (via buzzer) onto a cobblestone courtyard. Very Parisian: old and charming, with lovely natural light. The glass doors lead into an entirely different sort of beauty: with white walls, woven floor coverings, and lots of low-slung couches, the atmosphere is zen but welcoming. You’re likely to hear a mix of English and French amongst the practitioners: certain classes are taught in English, albeit with a thick French accent. The front desk staff speaks only French, and I’ve been glad to see my interactions with them becoming more expansive and easy as my French gets smoother.
I started classes at Rasa just about as soon as I got to Paris. Since yoga has been one of the only consistent threads in my time here so far, practicing at this studio has taken on a meaning beyond the yoga itself. At the beginning, when my apartment felt chaotic and cramped (we think New York apartments are small…!) and my social world was still very much in the making, the studio was a place where I knew what to expect. There is a certain ritual to going to morning yoga: waking up early enough to have breakfast, get dressed, hop on the metro toting your mat, transfer, walk to the studio, settle in… as my favorite teacher at Rasa once said, “yoga starts long before class.” In the first few weeks, when every day seemed to bring new challenges (communication complications, getting lost constantly, figuring out my bewildering washing machine), it was soothing to take two hours to return to this calm, airy space full of familiar faces.
There is something equalizing about the yoga studio, as well. No matter where you come from, vinyasa yoga is more or less the same: each class is a long sequence of poses, many of which you’ll recognize, that flow smoothly from one to the next. When I take French classes, I may hear unfamiliar words (I now know how to say “shoulder blades” and “groin” in French…), but the movements are familiar and I can follow easily. It’s pretty profound to be in a setting where, languages and backgrounds aside, we are all just bodies going through the same synchronized motions. I never feel like an outsider, or at any disadvantage because of my foreign status. The other day during handstands, for example, I gave my partner a tip to hold her balance better. Her big smile and “merci!” when she stood back up gave me the warmest feeling: for once, it had been me teaching the Frenchie something, and not the other way around!
