African Delights, Stuttgart Explorations, and Fascist Yoga

This blog post will be short and sweet since I just started my new teaching job and need to focus all brain power on my lesson plans...

Also, more importantly:  Happy Birthday Father Ira!  Since I was a young bundle of joy, you have taught me valuable life lessons (gambling, deep knee-bend stretches, proper golf etiquette, concocting perfect chocolate milk...) which I can now proudly share with my German students.  

Colorful plates full of fibrous nutrients

We enjoyed a relaxing weekend in our neighborhood and discovered Ebony, a friendly and radiant African dining experience.

Fish in spicy sauce with injera and veggies

After dinner, we met some friends to watch the German equivalent to the Super Bowl, the final match in the Bundesliga (German Soccer League).   Stuttgart played Bayern Munich (The Winners of the Champions League) and it was surprisingly fun to watch since the Germans showed rarely seen intense emotion.

Scoots sporting his Soccer jersey - Go Asheville!

The glorious sun came out the following afternoon so we went on a mission to find a statue that we can see far off on a hill from our apartment windows.

We eventually came across a helpful sign directing us to what resembled the statue:

We climbed up a path along the hill and found the mysterious structure:

The best part about our hike was the view from the top:

 Sunny day led to a gorgeous sunset!

View from our balcony

Our neighborhood has a Bikram Yoga studio so we signed up for the new student trial membership.  This studio is similar to Bikram in the USA (HOT, sweaty, exact same sequence of postures).

However, everything is taught in German by an intense authoritarian Bavarian woman.  Her dictatorial nature was frightening as she glared and demanded "breath out your nose and look straight ahead" (I tend to have ADD so my eyes wander and Scott is a heavy mouth breather).   

Another teacher (hairy German tyrant in tight euro-speedo) grabbed Scott as he was leaving the room, fingers tingling on the verge of passing out, and tried to convince him to "stay and sit still."  

In fact, one day 2 students had to carry a poor girl out of class because she was unconscious.  The totalitarian female instructor yelled at me as I snuck out to use the restroom and even hunted me down after class to insist that I must "urinate" before class begins (seriously? I thought I was supposed to arrive hydrated).  It appears the only acceptable time to leave class is if you can't do so on your own free will.  

This does not mesh with the non-competitive, relaxed, "listen to your body" yogic attitude I have come to love.  Thus, I am not fond of Bikram Yoga Stuttgart and will not hurry back after our 10 day trial expires. 

 Peace Love Namaste