Cubans, Colonics, and Oxana The Russian Yoga Instructor

Like Waze, Class Pass is usually amazing but can sometimes lead you astray.

Today was one of those days where it led me to a Russian owned yoga studio in North Miami.

Bikram studios are usually pretty gross, with their ultra porous floors almost putting up For Rent signs for bacteria colonies, and this one was no exception. But I thought I could power through the smell for a shortened hour long class just to wiggle the goobers out from my recently overly-roadified body.

I made it half way through before packing my bags up - symphony style - and making for the exits.

Some cultures are more resistant to yoga style New Age universalism than others. Somewhat ironically, the old communist ones seem to be the most recalcitrant - East Germans, Old Skool Chinese - and Russians.

The Russians in particular - with their fondness for militarism and academic rectitude - make for a particularly obstinate bunch when it comes to the natural ebb and flow of vinyasa yoga.

And in fact today, I couldn't help but audibly lol at the drill sergeant-y tone with which our super-Russian-yet-vaguely-trying-to-be-spiritual instructor barked out commands and counted off the steps in her stereotypically broken English. I mean if you're into parodies of Russian Russianness, this place is almost worth a trip in and of itself. It could almost be a Saturday Night Live skit. "Oxana - the Russian Yoga Instructor."

Anyway, the whole thing reminded me of that one time in San Francisco when I went to the Russian colonic place. The "draping" such that it was, was a petite size paper covering, which, even in my skinny days, left little to the imagination. The chubby but earnest "nurse"-like colon hydrotherapist was highly methodical in her approach. "Just like in the book."

(Again, the love for academic certainty, no matter how incorrect or time-dated, is a hallmark of European (and Eastern European) brainwashing culture that will forever leave them in the dark ages as the world becomes increasingly opened up. And so when one meets European New Agers, there is always a weird tension between their desire to be "liberated" and the fierce conditioning petri dish of inherited culture that raised them.)

Despite the weirdness of that colonic experience, ("Good colon. Nice colon. Very good colon. . ." she would repeat reassuringly), it had that other wonderful Russian quality of being really cheap. At least by Bay Area standards.

This trip to Miami has been an interesting cultural re-immersion and awakening of sorts. When Malerie Archer said Miami was "home to 90% of all Mosquitoes and Cubans on earth" I thought she was kidding about the Cubans. But it turns out she was kidding about the mosquitoes. The non-Mexican Latino culture infuses this place like nothing I've ever seen in Texas or California - and certainly not in Arizona or New Mex. And I haven't seen this many menorahs everywhere (or Russians) since I lived in Beverly Hills.

So I'm really glad I made it down this way. It is an astonishing mish mash of cultures that is at once very East Coast and also refreshingly hedonistic in a way that I thought only Southern California could be.

The raw food scene here is remarkable, and I have eaten more acai bowls in the past week than I have in the past 30 years. And yes, there are coconuts absolutely everywhere.

Not sure how long this sojourn will last. I was hoping for SOME taste of winter this year, but it's so hot that I had to hole up in a super redneck RV park to keep my A/C running overnight so I can sleep. But maybe I'll dip back to Atlanta before the season is out to clear the pipes and brace myself for a New Year out west again.

Time will tell. . . Feliz Navidad from Miami.

D