Sometimes You Feel Like A Nut

The first time I visited The Evolution Center, I knew it was a little nutty. I met with the original owner who opened this yoga and tai chi studio in 1973. The place was worn down and the mats were made from dirty black foam. The owner asked me about myself and gave me the okay to start teaching at his place though he was handing the ropes over to Frieda, another teacher. She would be taking over the center so he could retire in the Alpes full-time.

The second time I went was for a teacher’s meeting. My friend Katrijn was going to start teaching there too. She was dressed nicely and looked clean and organized. It was our first interaction with the other teachers. We arrived and the old dirty black mats were on the floor with bolsters on top and a make-shift table in the middle. It was an attempt at “cozy” I imagine.

All the teachers sat barefoot on the bolsters. Since Katrijn and I were the newbies, we had to introduce ourselves but no one else told us who they were. One man with a big honker and a short silver beard tried to talk about India. He later introduced himself as Olivier.

Frieda cut him off. She was the woman in charge. Tall, big-boned and bug-eyed she spoke quickly. She made it clear she was running the show. Frieda began to talk about the process for signing up new students. She gestured to the wall behind her. There was a sort of exposed card catalog that would have made a librarian’s head spin. A metal rack held little cards in alphabetical order. The entire wall was filled. Each card belonged to a student. It was like the Dewey Decimal System and probably created in 1973 when the room opened.

“Now,” Frieda held up a card showing us as if we were children, “when a student comes to your class, you will need to get their card from the wall and stamp it. Then you will need to write their name on the attendance sheet. You need to make sure you fill out the attendance sheet every time you teach or we will have no way of knowing who came to your class.”

Frieda showed us the different cards and repeated the important stamping process at least three times as if this was one of the most important things ever. It sounded like it would take us longer to take attendance then to give a class.

A young pregnant woman who had wavy blonde hair explained how she wouldn’t be able to give massages much longer, she gestured to her stomach. Just then, the door opened and the third new teacher, who was very late, strutted into the room. She wore loose black jeans and a flannel shirt. She had shaggy hair. She climbed onto a pillow and sat with her legs apart. “Sorry I’m late” she smirked with a rough voice. She was sitting close to me. She had a faint blonde mustache and very thin lips.

Frieda stared and then said, “Why don’t you introduce yourself to us?”

“Okay,” she wore a sly grin, “I’m Rhianna and I’ll be teaching a style of gym and stretching that is a mix of yoga and Tai Chi. I created my own routine with traditional Western movements for people who find yoga scary or too hard.”

Frieda stared at her and then at the group. No one said a word. Rhianna’s appearance frightened me. I couldn’t imagine going to her for any class of any sort.

Frieda spoke about the cards and stamps again. She put down her pen and said “Okay, for those of you who want to stay and eat, the meeting is over.”

Each person ruffled in his or her bag and brought out little salads, cheeses, cakes and we passed out plates. Olivier began speaking about India again. “I go every year. It is such a magical place.” He said while scooping some kind of grains onto his plate.

A teacher in her late 40’s with curly reddish hair and huge glasses said, “I just did China and it was such a hard country to visit…the language, getting around, it really was difficult. I prefer India.”

“India is filled with so much culture and history,” he added.

I thought back to my trip in India with my husband. Images of open sewage, a woman lighting cow dung and then waving the vapors into her face, lepers, half-naked skinny children tugging at our clothes…but my favorite image of all is of me hanging out the side of a moving rickshaw and puking.

“Holy Shit,” my husband had commented at the time, “you looked like a fucking alien!” We had laughed but it wasn’t so funny when I puked another ten times, (though my stomach looked damn good for about 24 hours). I made a comment about my dislike for India. I don’t know why I said this in a room full of India lovers. Everyone stared at me.

Luckily, Katrijn piped up and said she had met her boyfriend in India and that is why she is now in Marseille. That was a good transition and Frieda then announced, “Baba Gunji is coming to Marseille. Are any of you going to go see him?”

“Oh, he’s amazing. I’ve heard him before,” said Olivier nibbling on his rice salad mixture.

“So have I! He is so real, no masks, he’s just himself and he makes you feel like you can be real too. He helps you get closer to yourself.” Frieda was always so intense.

“Yes. I don’t know how he does it. Just being in his presence makes you feel like it’s okay to be who you are,” continued Olivier.

“Exactly,” she picked at her bread and cheese, “he helps you accept yourself, know yourself better, get closer to yourself…” she said waving her bread in the air.

I listened to all this feeling like an outsider when Rita covered her mouth and said in my direction, “Get closer to yourself? I wanna get distance from myself. Heh heh heh.”

The voice of reason had spoken. I burst into laughter. She started laughing too, her eyes all squinty like someone who had just smoked a doobie. I liked her.

Two weeks later we had the Open House. Basically this was our biggest chance of the year to attract potential students. It was a sunny September morning. Frieda was going to make Chai that morning.
I say this because it had been decided that Chai would only be served in the morning, not in the afternoon. Also, the tea cup was to be filled to a certain level.

She was really into her Chai and had even printed it on the flyers as part of the Open House. She spoke about it during our meeting: The Chai in the morning, how she would offer Chai to people…in the morning. How people would come to our Open House, and if they came in the morning, they could have their cup of Chai.

Well, I arrived around 9:15am to help set-up the place. Random objects were on the shelves in the entry way, bathroom deodorizer spray, for example, which made no sense and was a total turn off. I mean, the first thing I think of when I see deodorizer spray is, "Cool, if I need to take a fucking shit, no one will know because I can spray this fantastic spray!"

Getting back to the Open House day, a massage therapist, Anne, was also helping set-up. She had short brown hair and was putting out flyers on the table in the entrance. The big yoga room had some tables and flyers too but was mainly empty so that we could give workshops.

“How can I help?” I asked looking around.

“You can help me hang these pictures,” Frieda wanted to hang pictures. I don’t know why it was a priority when so many other things needed to get done. She handed me three brand new canvases still in their plastic wrap.

“Okay, just tell me where.”

She came over and handed me a hammer and nails and then pointed to three spots on the wall that were way above my height. When she realized I couldn’t reach that high, she handed me the nails and I become her nail holder servant. It was a very inefficient way of using an extra set of hands. And then the two of us hung pictures.

“You’re hanging pictures…now?” asked Anne. We were expecting loads of people and it was just the three of us getting the place ready.

“Yes! Yes! Now!” she said as if this made perfect sense.

Soon a horrible burning smell began to enter the hallway. “Oh, no! Is that my Chai?” Frieda shrieked.

“I don’t know. It smells like incense,” I remarked.

Frieda fled to a little room in the back. “Oh, no! Oh, no! My Chai. It’s boiled over onto the wood floor.” She ran to get some towels. I followed and did the same. She started slopping up the mess that had boiled over from the electric kettle. “I forgot this kettle needs to be watched or this happens…” Then she disappeared before cleaning the floor properly to do something inefficient again. I took my time cleaning up the mess and wondered if I was on Chai duty or if she was coming back.

Soon Katrijn and a couple other teachers arrived. Katrijn took a look around and smiled at me. “So,” she asked me, “what are we supposed to do?”

I looked over at Frieda and then back to Katrijn, “Just do what she says.” I said somewhat under my breath. The two of us giggled.

Soon the door rang. It was our first potential student. A thirty-something woman, pale and chubby, stood in the doorway holding a plastic bag and her Open House flyer.

“Come in! Come in!” Frieda said over-enthusiastically with her bug eyes.

“Hello!” everyone chimed in.

“Hello,” she paused and looked at each one of us slowly. “I’m here for the Open House.”

Frieda made her way quickly over to our potential student. The woman held the flyer in her hand. Frieda towered over her, “Okay, which workshop interests you?” Together they studied the flyer in utter concentration.

Frieda left for something else and the lady approached me in slow motion and spoke to me in a monotonous tone, “Can yoga hurt me? I have some problems…” She asked me lots of questions, the same question just worded differently each time. “Will yoga help me?” I tried to comfort her and told her soft yoga would probably be good for her. Nothing I said seemed to soothe her, she just stood there looking lost.

I went back to Chai duty and moved some random objects into the back. Each time a student would arrive, Frieda would monopolize the conversation and none of the other teachers would get in a word.

“I might as well leave,” mentioned Katrijn with wide eyes, “she isn’t letting us talk to anyone.”

As 10am approached, people started gathering around for a Soft Gym class that Rhianna was going to lead, however, she was nowhere to be seen. Frieda’s eyes starting shifting left and right. She kept looking at the round clock on the wall. At least 4 people were waiting for Rhianna. Frieda started thinking out loud. “Where is Rhianna? It’s 10 o’clock. These people want to try Soft Gym. We have to start. What should I do? It’s 10 o’clock…”

Katrijn offered her help, “I teach Soft Yoga so I could give the workshop if you want?”

“No! No! No!” Frieda started pacing the hallway. “I’ll do it. It can’t be just anything. It has to be something similar. I know what she does.” Katrijn looked shocked at her response.

Frieda brought the people into the big yoga room and Katrijn turned to me, “Wow! This woman is really awful. I’m trying to help and she acts like that? She really wants to do everything!”

Then we spied on Frieda who was leading a group in auto-massage. She briskly rubbed her arms up and down, then her legs. She encouraged the workshop students to do as she was doing. The others began to rub their arms too. Katrijn and I looked at each other and started laughing.

“What is she doing?” Katrijn asked me.

“I think it’s Do-In a type of auto-massage…” They were in fact doing something quite legitimate, but it looked ridiculous and Frieda teaching something that is supposed to relax people just made it even more absurd.

About ten minutes later, Rhianna entered. Her hair was matted on one side and sticking out on the other. She must have literally rolled out of bed and thrown on her jacket. Her eyes were tiny and sunken into her head. The sight of her made me start laughing. “Tired?” I asked.

She raised her eyebrows at me, “Why? Do I like tired?”

“Yep.”

“Do I normally look energetic?”

“Nope,” I answered and we both laughed again.

“Frieda started teaching your class, did you want to do part of it now that you are here?” asked Katrijn.

“Nah, let her do it,” She chuckled.

Ten thirty was coming up. It would be time for my workshop, Dynamic Yoga with Suny. Yep they spelled my name wrong on over 15,000 flyers, I was disappointed with that. Frieda was to blame, but what are you going to say to that broad?

As Frieda and her students left the room, she said to the next group, “Now for Dynamic Yoga with Sunny.”

I scanned the crowd of about 8 people. The slow chubby lady was part of my group! She began asking me a bunch of questions again and I noticed a wart on her finger. Not just any wart, a mushy dangly one. Eww. I made a future mental note: Do not adjust her hands.

I entered the yoga room and began to set-up mats, people just kept on pouring in. A tall man in a bright blue construction suit, the kind you have to zip up, was one of my students. A red-eyed man who probably found our flyer in the dumpster he sleeps in was also part of my little posse. He had whiskey breath and was wearing black jeans and a black long sleeved shirt that reeked of nicotine. (Sound like a potential yoga student to you?) A couple women looked dressed for a marathon and a couple others looked like yogis who were just seeing if I was any good which made me nervous.

My class was full so I shut the door, ready to begin. Supposedly, Frieda panicked and repeatedly said in an ugly tone of voice, “What? She closed the door? This is an Open House... The doors stay open in an Open House.”

It was a hot day in Marseille. Our room had no fans and no open windows. I began the class and it heated up a little too quickly. I hadn’t anticipated any sweating during a 30-minute yoga workshop and thus I had put on make-up and worn a normal non-absorbent bra. But soon, sweat was running down my cleavage and my face was dripping. I had to sneak a couple peeks in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look like Alice Cooper with mascara melting down my face. I looked out at all the workshop participants, people whom I’d most likely never see again: slow wart lady, construction man, and drunken dude. One or two people’s yoga practice was almost too good. I felt like they must have been there specifically to investigate me on behalf of some undercover yoga teacher committee. Would I pass their test?

I watched the clock and timed the class perfectly. We were just coming out of our relaxation when Frieda burst open the door and banged on a bronze bowl repeatedly, “Time’s up!” she chimed like one of the evil step-sisters from Cinderella. Could she possibly be any more obnoxious? The truth is, she is an unaware obnoxious person so you kind of feel sorry for her. I do not think she knows she is so awful but…still…I kind of wanted to slap her.

As we exited, steam left our room and drifted into the hallway. The next big group filed into the room for the Tai Chi workshop. Katrijn was standing in the hallway. She told me she was leaving. For a while, I stood alone feeling invisible and uneasy. With the other workshops going on and Frieda talking to everyone, there was little for me to do. Luckily, I had to participate in another Open House on a different side of town. I glanced around the room one final time.

“I have to go,” I said to Frieda while opening the door.

“Oh…you’re leaving already?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said without any explanation, “Good bye,” I closed the door behind me and exited the building. I smiled as I felt the city air and sun on my face. I felt relieved. It was as if I’d managed to escape a different dimension. I was back in my world again. I was safe now. I exhaled a sigh of relief. And I happily walked down the street, leaving the nuts and the squirrels behind.