Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Shaping Your Brazilian Bum Bum
When Kristin mentioned to me she wanted to start working out to some DVDs she owned my ears perked up. You see, for many years in my life, I have worked out to videos in my living room. This dates all the way back to when I was in high school, I'm talking VHS days. To list a few real good ones; Tami Lee Webb's "Buns of Steel," Cindy Crawford's "Shape Your Body," and Elle MacPherson's "Your Personal Best." All circa early 90's. I daresay the hair and outfits have probably come back into style at this point. The Elle MacPherson video tape was passed between me, my sister and my mom so much that it finally bit the dust one day. A rather disappointing day, I might add, as I stood in front of the TV crestfallen that I wouldn't be able to work out with Elle. Although, at that point, I had exercised with that tape so many times I didn't really need to watch it to do it. I could probably even voice all of Elle's commentary while I did my crunches and bicep curls.
Since last week, workouts with Leandro happen almost every second night. One humid and jungle humming night we were sculpting our thighs and posteriors with multiple types of squats and lunges. The bi-nightly workouts had gone from just me and Kristin to several other ladies and that night in particular there were six or seven of us. It's hard to take the Schwarzenegger of Brazil too seriously when he is oohing and aahing his work out team and preaching about the fit boom boom. Think of a dance instructor teaching moves to kindergardeners with the attention spans of squirrels. In between gulps of laughter, I imagine this is what we may have looked like.
The yoga studio where we were working out is on the second floor and all open air. You can see the ocean through the trees on the opposite side of the road. People passing on the road can look up and see you in your downward dog during the day or fine tuning your gluteus maximus at night. I'm not sure if it was because it was a larger group of us upstairs laughing and moving about but several times cars pulled into the little parking lot and peered up at us possibly wondering if some event was going on. The thing about Puerto Viejo is that if you need a party, there is one somewhere. It's what gives this place perhaps the bad rep of being a party town. In my two months here I have come to realize I was drawn to this place more for a resting point on my journey to practice yoga every day and work on my writing. I couldn't be farther removed from partying if I tried. Making dinner with a new friend or staying in and reading and writing sounds far more entertaining to me than copious shots at a local watering hole rendering me useless for the following 24 to 48 hours.
About 20 minutes into our thigh and butt shaping workout, four people on bikes rolled up and started hooting and hollering at us. They parked their bikes and ran upstairs with their beer cans in hand. They were very clearly inebriated. It was 6:30 PM.
"Yeah dance party!" One of them yelled in drunken delight.
"Well, actually, we're working out and this isn't something the yoga studio offers, we are just doing this on our own. And you also can't have your beer up here," Kristin kindly told them. Without asking if they could join, two of them scurried to different parts of the studio and started working out with us. The drunkest and loudest girl there was wearing a sea captain's hat.
"Wooo hooo!! Work it out girls!" She kept yelling as we all squatted and lunged, Leandro's commentary being drowned out by her intoxicated ruckus. The other two stood by the stairs as it slowly dawned on them that this wasn't a dance party in the least, but a bunch of friends doing a work out DVD together.
Sea Captain in the back kept up her jolly yet slightly obnoxious drunken encouragement for less than five minutes while the rest of us basically ignored her. I wondered if she had any sobering moments in those few minutes where she realized that we were not on the same wavelength as her at all and that perhaps she was annoying rather than entertaining us. Eventually, they all caught the drift and filed back down the stairs like little penguins plunging back into the boozy waters of their bike ride.