All the right moves...

This week I attended a beginner yoga class!    But to be completely honest I have been to a yoga class or two prior to this one.  It was early in the summer before I headed out on my adventure to Italy.   So I knew what to expect, well sort of.   When I say beginner class…OMG (what’s the level before yoga 101 again?)  Yeah that one!  That’s the one that I attended this week.

Breath lad, breath – remember it’s not competitive…perhaps that’s my problem with yoga?  

Early in the summer in my initial yoga experience the instructor was an indecipherable middle-aged Indian fellow who was a flexible as an elastic band, and with the heart and patience of a saint.  As I recall he smiled non-stop for the entire hour as he glided effortlessly around the hall talking, coaxing and encouraging all of the participants into the right postures.  I remember coming away from the class extremely relaxed and even a little buzzed.

Ashtanga Yoga poses - we did a couple
of these ones...

This week had been a little hectic and so had wanted to find a place a little closer to home, so I asked a friend about yoga classes in my neighbourhood that she could recommend.  Convenience is huge when you’ve got a lot on the go, so when I found out the studio was less than three blocks from my house – it was perfect!   As I strolled over with just minutes to spare before the class was scheduled to start I had high hopes that it was going to be as challenging and relaxing as my last yoga encounter.   “Bring it on,” I thought to myself as I climbed the stairs toward the studio reception.

All I can say was this weeks experience was vastly different…now the unexpected upside to this whole adventure was the people watching aspect – human behavior at its best.  Pure theatre! 

Let me see – where to start…

Our instructor Adam (not his real name) was an affable chap in his late 60’s, a bit of a talker, which was probably a good thing, because even though we only tried about ten moves or poses over the course of the hour he was meticulous in his demonstration and description for each move.  Describing with some detail how and where each muscle was supposed to be positioned, how you body should feel and react to every move, every little movement he charted before we began...and overall an excellent beginner instructor!

The striking thing about Adam was that he was not what I had expected my instructor to look like, especially after my last one.  In fact I’d go so far as to say he was almost the antithesis of what I had expected an instructor to look like.   I know it sounds rather judgmental and even perhaps a little mean (definitely not my intent), but rather wanted to capture the full affect from the moment I walked into the studio.

Adam’s physique was a little unorthodox for starters; my mental model wouldn’t have equated a yoga instructor with a rather large protruding potbelly but there you have it.  I caught myself staring…probably a little too long in terms of good manners.  I looked him up and down and noticed that his rather prominent stomach was attached to two very spindly legs, next a rather rakish (some less charitable might even categorize it as unkempt) and longer than fashionable grey beard.  He reminded me of a slightly underweight Santa, perhaps just a little less rotund if you know what I mean, he didn’t quite have Santa’s full figure.  That being said, he could definitely moonlight over the holiday season, no questions asked!  

My classmates were an eclectic bunch as well, an odd assortment of people, there were four women and two other men plus myself.  One of the guys complained the whole time – with “this really hurts” being his most common refrain, often loud enough to hear outside in the reception area.  I think almost every breath he took was louder than the last…yeah; he was a heavy breather as well.    

Definitely didn't try the Peacock pose!

The other guy (let’s call him Dave) was either introverted or was completely embarrassed about being in the class.   During the entire class he refused to make eye contact with anyone and so looked down at the floor the whole time, except for the odd furtive glance at Adam to see what he had to do next.  He couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.   There were also two women in their mid to late 40’s, one by herself and the other with her niece, then an older woman perhaps closer in age to Adam. 

Now it was a little hard to tell, but I think the older woman was flirting with Adam…rather shamelessly as I recall, with a little too much giggling and nervous chatter with those around her if you know what I mean.  In fact, now that I think back he did tend to spend a lot of time “correcting her posture”.   I wonder?

Easy for me to look around and make up stories about the others in the class, another thing entirely to look at my own foibles and see what I was doing, or in some cases wasn’t doing.  During the class there were moments when I felt I wasn’t making much progress in terms of a stretch, my body just doesn’t move in those ways or so I told myself.  Fortunately for me it didn’t go into cramp or spasm during any of the poses – how embarrassing would that have been?     I guess Adam thought there were others who needed even more help than me, so spent almost zero time checking on my moves to see if they were correct.  

Am I supposed to sweat I thought to myself as I lay there in one of the painful early moves?  Perhaps you “have to work into it” the little voice in my head chided, hhhmmm…yeah, well all I know is that I waited and then waited some more as I stretched but to no avail…not so much as a hint of perspiration.   Although the little voice my head was becoming very annoying!   Enough already!

I guess I should have
studied first!

The true upside for me was how relaxed I felt by the end of the class; in fact it was almost hard for me to keep my eyes open, as I lay prostrate on the mat during my final stretch.  Clearly I had gone too far - beyond relaxed to almost a semi comatose and sleep induced state.  My eyes flicked open when I noticed Andy standing over me peering into my face…holy shit did I do something wrong I thought?   How long had he been standing there?   God, was I asleep?  Is the class still going?

He knelt down and said in a soft voice that he wanted me to come to a level one class next time rather than come back to beginner.   “You’d be wasting your time in this class, you’ve obviously played a lot of sports in your day and have excellent body awareness”, just check with the receptionist on your way out for when those classes are.    Not sure what he meant by “in your day”, and wasn’t sure if I should be happy or upset with his comment so I decided to take it as a compliment and let it go…

The other participants handled the class in varying degrees of enjoyment – Mr. “it hurts” may never attempt yoga again, as he struggled to his knees and then eventually his feet before staggering unsteadily out of the studio.  Ms. Flirty was chatting to Adam as I left the room and the other guy had gone before I had even rolled my mat – yeah, he’s not coming back.   The high school student seemed like she was having fun with her aunty who also struggled with many of the exercises.   

My big lesson from this weeks class is that it takes courage to try something new like this no matter what age, size or shape you’re in especially if you have to try in front of others – so I take my hat off to all of my fellow participants for getting outside their comfort zone and trying something new.   Well done!

Level one here I come…  J

A year less a week...

Soon after arriving back in Darwin following my year backpacking it became pretty obvious that I needed some form of transportation.   Initially I was staying with a mate of mine whom I had taught with at the local high school for some three years prior to me going overseas.  He was also the one who picked me up from the airport with a “slab of green cans” (24 cans of Victoria Bitter beer), which we (yes, more than just two of us) polished off rather too quickly in celebration of my return.   So after making short work of the said ale, we decided that our next stop should be the local casino where we should party all night long…not sure what we were thinking but a young mind with too much alcohol is a dangerous thing…clearly!

The next morning (did I actually sleep or just think I did?) nursing the hangover of the century he somehow had convinced me the previous night to go fishing (which I officially hate…perhaps hate is too strong a term, so how about “dislike with an intense passion second to none”!) with him and some other guys from our touch rugby team.   None of us lasted too long – the swell out on the reef coupled with the tropical and unrelenting heat soon had me over the side of the boat, along with almost everyone else…yeah, fun times indeed!

The first week back I realized I definitely needed wheels of some variety just so I could get around town, get to the various schools for work, the beach and of course all of my sports - rugby, football, windsurfing. 

Mangrove swamps like the ones bordering Dick Ward Drive

Surprisingly it only took me a couple of days to secure some relief teaching roles and fortunately within two weeks I had secured a full time teaching job with the education department at a nearby high school.

Now the next thing I needed was mobility so the next weekend I was out searching the local car yards for something that would get me from point A to point B without fuss.   Not a great selection I remember thinking as I left the third yard for the morning.  Most of the cars had seen better days, however I noticed a Honda motorbike dealership across the road...

Hhhmmm the last time I ridden a bike was on the farm, but I had always enjoyed the feeling of freedom a bike had given me.  Why not I thought as I meandered over the road and into the dealership, where I was surrounded by line after line of new shiny bikes ranging from the big powerful super bikes down to the farm variety.

The sales rep eyed me as I strolled in; he made his way over and casually asked what I was interested in.  Great question I thought because what I was interested in and what I could realistically afford were two very different things.   Sporty but mid range I told him as he walked me toward the smaller bikes.

Less than 30 minutes later I was signing the papers for a new Honda CBX 250.   Once the loan passed they called me to say it would be ready to pick up the following Friday afternoon.  I have to admit I was like a kid in a candy store, excitement coursed through my veins all week knowing that I’d have a cool new bike by the weekend.

TW's pride & joy - my Honda 250
circa 1986

My brother’s workshop was not too far from the dealership so after work I hitched a lift into town to catch up with him (school started at 7:30 am but finished by 2:30 pm cos’ of the unrelenting tropical heat) and pretty convenient to be honest.   Stepping into the dealership at precisely 5:00 pm I could hardly contain my excitement.  The sales rep took me to the back of the store where he had the bike ready to go – wow!   Okay I was in love with a bike (there, not afraid to admit it!)

I have procured the requisite probationary drivers permit and insurance so that I could ride it, but was still required to spend a weekend attending the defensive riding school before gaining my general riders license.  

Two weekends later I found myself atop my bike in a large open asphalt car park early Saturday morning with two days of intense rider training ahead of me.   The mantra that our instructor said over and over again all weekend was “if you last a year without an accident, then you'll have a much greater likelihood that you won't have one - the first year is the killer".   

Strangely I didn’t think that I would have an accident, that was for others in the class to worry about, after all I had been riding bikes for years on the farms I’d worked at and therefore felt supremely confident in my abilities...not me I thought to myself!

The other big things I quickly learned was that riding a bike in the tropics is inherently different from riding in normal four seasons type weather.  Its just too hot to wear leathers, in fact I found it too hot to wear much other than a tank top or t-shirt, shorts and thongs (flip flops in North American) plus helmet of course as that was mandatory.   It was so hot, you’d take your helmet off after riding and your hair would be stuck to your head as if it had been placed in a bucket of water – did I say dripping wet?

My normal motorcycle wear in Darwin
(Roscoe & TW enjoying a beer 1987)

As well, during the wet season you had to be careful of the obligatory afternoon electrical storms.  Water literally bucketed from the sky for anywhere between 15 and 30 min.  At times it rained so heavily that water would accumulate on the roads from anywhere up to 6 – 8 inches and brought the danger of aquaplaning into play.

My bike was great and I loved the feeling of riding it, its maneuverability, its sleek lines…yep I loved everything about it.   As the weeks turned into months my confidence continued to grow and by keeping my wits about me had dodged a couple of potential early mishaps.

In those days my then girlfriend and I lived in a townhouse on Kiranou Place just off Casuarina drive in Nightcliff.  One Saturday we decided to head over to the Parap pool to meet friends and enjoy the waterslides for the afternoon.    Over the months she had learned the intricacies of riding on the back of my bike and as usual we were in our tank tops, shorts/dress (no not me) and thongs (flip flops) as we headed to the pool.  

It was a beautiful afternoon and another gorgeous dry season day with the temperature hovering around the 34C (or 94F) mark and definitely beach or pool weather.  To get to the Parap pool we had to ride along Dick Ward Drive, which was basically a long causeway that straddled the mangrove swamps rising some 12 – 15 feet above the high tide mark.   It was a totally clear day with barely a cloud in the sky and perfect riding weather.   There is only one road that hits Dick Ward drive anywhere along the 2-kilometer causeway and that is the exit from Richardson Park (local rugby field).   It’s completely visible from some distance away and with no obstructions what so ever.

As we approached I had noticed a car waiting at the stop sign, I still remember how strange it was because there was no traffic and they literally had minutes to turn, but strangely the car sat there all the while.  Up until this point I have been traveling at about 100 km per hour, but something made me hesitate and so I began to slow the bike down as I approached the intersection.   Down to about 80 km now but still no movement from the car…   With less than 50 feet between me and the intersection the driver pulled out, the driver saw me but instead of accelerating and hoping to get out of our way she froze and stopped dead in the middle of the road.  

I had no time to think except hit the brakes hard but it was too late - we ploughed directly into the car right at the central door pillar.  The next thing I know I’m lying semi-conscious on the burning hot asphalt road and wondering how I got there.  I was completely disoriented after the impact and being launched over the car (my helmet leaving a rather large Pepi-le-Pew like mark across the roof of the car) before apparently cart wheeling down the road until I came to a stop quite some way away from the impact site.  My girlfriend was launched over both the car and me but miraculously walked away with minor cuts, bruises and a number of large abrasions from the road.

Another magical dry season day in Darwin.  The Arafura Sea
looking toward the distant Indonesia - 1986

The guy traveling a few hundred meters behind us was an off duty fireman who had a emergency dispatch radio in his truck, and literally before I made contact with the road was on the radio getting an ambulance to the scene.  I guess I went into shock and by the time the ambulance arrived he was tending to me and my girlfriend while the driver paced the side of the road both wailing like a banshee - completely distraught.  I distinctly remember coming to in the ambulance and wondering what was going on before fading out once again.

My next recollection was lying in emergency at the Darwin Hospital as they cut off what was left of my tank top and shorts.   The nurse was talking to me as she cut away the shredded clothing, while someone else was checking my vitals and hooking me up to an IV.   Now my body was really starting to hurt by this time, I looked down as she took a rather large pair of industrial sized tweezers from a tray beside the bed and slowly lifted each of my black and swollen testicles – one at a time thank you very much, yes they resembled black oranges and I couldn’t believe that they belonged to me except that when she touched them the pain was excruciating.   She lifted to see if there was any cuts of further visible damage to the scrotum...OMG!

I still remember making eye contact with her as she lifted them, her only comment – “Ooohh you’re going to be sore for some time”.   (Really?   Thank you Sherlock Holmes … no kidding!).  Luckily I had no internal injuries except for my very swollen testicles which the police think I received as I exited the bike believing I snapped the mirror off the bike with my nether-parts (yeah, makes you cringe doesn’t it guys).   As well, I had a fair bit of skin off my knees, elbows (I still have floating bone chips on both elbows since the accident) and a damaged patella (knee cap) again as I clipped the roof of the car, but fortunately no lasting damage.

Afternoon storm approaching from the sea
Darwin, Australia - 1986

The police came to the hospital later that afternoon after surveying the accident scene and taking down the pertinent measurements they also needed to take a statement from each of us.  They explained that they were going to be charging the driver with Reckless Driving.  

They commented on the state of the bike or what was left of it…   My poor bike - the handlebars had been snapped clean in two, right mirror snapped off, fuel tank severely dented, front wheel crushed, the motor in a myriad of parts with some sections actually embedded in the door of the car…yeah a complete mess.

The police were shocked that we both literally walked away from the accident (or in my case hobbled very slowly).   In all their years of experience with this type of accident they said that they never seen anyone walk away from something like that.  Noting that other riders had been killed at much slower speeds and that we had been given the one in a million chance and survived.  They just shook their heads and said you both should be dead – you do realize that right?   

The accident happened a year less a week from the day I got my bike…

Epilogue:  A few weeks after the accident my brother Laurie threw me the keys to his Honda 600cc one afternoon, he looked me in the eye and said that if I didn’t get back on a bike now I likely never would.  Deep down I knew he was right, but I have to admit I was shitting myself as I approach the bike, sat down and turned the key over.  As it sputtered to life the butterflies in my stomach also took flight.  Somehow I toughed it out for about an hour as I rode around town, but it was one slow ride J.

On Broadway!

This past weekend Sami and I spent the weekend in New York City.  It had been planned since early in the summer when I had taken Zach on a “boys weekend” away. 

Quintessential Sami....breakfast at a
neighborhood diner

Sami had decided to spend two months at sleep away camp this past summer (clearly she loves seeing her friends from all over North America, the independence of two months away and the array of cool wilderness activities).   I drove her up to camp (3.5 hour drive north from Toronto into Algonquin National Park) and when I discovered that I she had to be at camp on Thursday afternoon I asked Zach what he wanted to do for the weekend…I think my actual words were “what do you think about a boys weekend away?”.   He jumped at the opportunity, so I said it’s up to you – we can go anywhere in North America.   After a little thinking he came back with Washington DC so we could museum hop.

On finding out the news of our impending trip to Washington DC she was disappointed that I was going to spend a weekend away without her even though she was going to be at camp. I promised that I would take her somewhere by herself in the fall after camp was done and she was back at camp.  

 She is a classic!  I asked her where would you like to go for the weekend?   Before I could offer up a few options she said “Paris” with a beaming smile!  

Nearing the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge
on our way in from the La Guardia

I gulped and said it had to be somewhere in North America otherwise we’d be traveling all weekend and so wouldn’t have time to spend together other than on a plane…quick as a flash (as only Sami can) she said “okay New York!”   Why New York I enquired?   “So I can shop of course” (I’m sure she was thinking…hello, New York…what else would you do but shop...drrrrr)

She’s so sharp, already having a number two location in mind, and of course I’d like to think she was a chip off the old block, but unfortunately she’s significantly sharper than I ever was or will be!  :-)  

Our flight departed on Friday afternoon, luckily with Canadian Thanksgiving falling on Monday her school also had a Professional Development day so she didn’t miss school, not that would have been a limiting factor for Sami.   She’s become quite an accomplished and experienced traveler so she was ready to go (carry on only – yes, I’ve trained her well!) early Friday morning.   

After arriving into New York (La Guardia airport) on a sun filled and rather warmish Friday afternoon we caught a taxi into the city, we were staying at the Marriott Downtown, which is adjacent to the World Trade Center site in Lower Manhattan.  Sami and I are both foodies (I put it down to our high metabolism :-) so as soon as we checked into the hotel we found a place to eat...   Pub food was always good after a trip like this so we decided on a bar in the Financial district a half a block off Wall Street right in the middle of the action, work had just gotten out so it was a loud and packed locale, and perhaps a little eye opening for Sami when she said “dad its so loud in here”.   It was a slice of New York life…and a great introduction to the frenetic pace, noise and action of New York. 

Sami at Dean & Deluca's at Broadway & Prince Street

Saturday morning with a quick on-the-go breakfast before taking the subway (R train) to Union Square, from there walking through the Farmers market which takes over Union Square each Saturday before strolling up 23^rd street to the Flatiron building.   Sami and I both love this building and spent time having an impromptu photo shoot on the sidewalk.   We lazily strolled, browsed and chatted our morning away with a mandatory Starbucks visit thrown in for good measure – so loves the Vanilla Crème. :-) 

One of my goals for the weekend was to find a replacement breakfast bowl from my favorite home ware store in New York – Fish Eddy’s on 19^th street.   I had recently broken one of my breakfast bowls and so was looking for a replacement.   Seriously I could buy the store!  Sami was a great companion, making lots of other suggestions for stuff I should get for my place.   No surprise but we picked up more than just a replacement bowl!

It was gorgeous day so we slowly strolled along Broadway and across into SoHo – what can I say could there have been anything more fun than to stroll, people watch, window-shop and look for photo opportunities with my daughter in NYC?  I doubt it!

Cool photo - fire escapes in SoHo

One of the big items on her wish list was to go to a Broadway show.  She keenly researched the variety of shows before finally deciding on Mary Poppins, which was playing at the New Amsterdam Theatre on 42^nd street.   I’ve got to say it was excellent!   Our seats were up high in the balcony with a commanding view of the stage, both of us merrily tapping our feet to all the well known show tunes, an afternoon well spent!  

After making our way back to our hotel for a quick freshen up after the matinee we had talked about going out for a fancy dinner.   Deciding on the TriBeCa Grill – a ritzy local favorite, we cabbed it there for our 7:00 pm reservation, and enjoyed an amazing dinner nestled amongst some of New York City’s cool and glamorous.   A great way to end a perfect day of exploring!

Sunday dawned a much chillier day, and although a little overcast it didn’t dampen our enthusiasm.  We love going out for breakfast even when we’re in Toronto on the weekend so locating a little neighborhood breakfast place about a mile from the hotel up toward Chelsea was on our list of “to-do’s”.   After breakfast we walked over to Broadway and Prince Street to the Dean & Deluca’s on the corner (one of my favorite places for a coffee, pastry and people watching).   Next it was uptown to 23^rd street and the start of our shopping along 5^th Avenue up to Central Park.   The morning was grey but good walking weather…

Sami had two items on her shopping list (1) was in the mood to buy shoes (OMG!), therefore we stopped at the myriad of shoe stores plus any other “cool stores”; (2) she was interested to go to FAO Schwartz on 57^th street.  This one intrigued me - so why the toy store?

Her reply was “Dad, I’m 11…” – I guess I’m supposed to know what that means.    By this time the weather had turned a little murky and started to shower intermittently so our afternoon adventure consisted of a trip to Dylan’s Candy store at 3^rd Avenue and 60^th street (opposite Bloomingdales) before a walk across Central Park up to the American Natural History Museum at 79^th Street and Central Park West.

Statue of Teddy Roosevelt outside
the American Natural History Museum

The museum (where the movie “A Night at the Museum” was based) was packed but its a great place to go and we both enjoyed it immensely!    A relatively quick subway ride back downtown to the hotel, a freshen up and then a cab ride over to Little Italy for dinner (did I tell you we loved to eat?)

It was New York at its finest as we cabbed it over to Positano’s on Mulberry Street in the heart of Little Italy.  This bustling family run place has been around forever, and always on my list of great places to eat in NY.   It didn’t disappoint!

The weekend was fantastic - filled with lots of playful banter, belly laughs and the occasional serious conversation, we both loved the experience.  Each night we talked about the best thing that we had shared or experienced that day, it only reinforced the wonderful and shared experience. 

I realize that as she enters her teenage years that she likely won’t want to spend as much time with me (its natural who does at that age), so having this time to truly connect and make sure she knows that I’m always there for her was really important...