Beauty is Pain

Sometime ago, a good friend of mine swore to me that there was this type of exercise, which would miraculously make all of my wobbly bits disappear. I didn't believe her. This is how the conversation went:

Friend: "Have you heard of the reformer?"

Me: "No, I haven't seen it, but I hear Megan Fox is hot in it."

Friend: "No, not Transformers...the reformer machine, the thing you do pilates on."

Me: "Oh!...no, what is it?"

Friend: "It's a torture machine..."

Me: "Say no more. Going to the gym is painful enough for me as it is. I'm not torturing myself anymore than I already am."

Friend: "Silly girl. It's the good kind of torture. The good kind of pain. You'll love it, you'll see. All of your wobbly bits will disappear."

Me: "Alright, alright. I'll do it. Wanna go have a burger?"

My friend is now a reformer addict. She swears by it. Says it's the only way to exercise. Months later, I finally mustered up the courage to sign up for a free class at Heartcore Pilates in Notting Hill (Kensington & Hampstead).

 Heartcore Pilates, Notting Hill

My friend led the way to the studio, as I dragged my feet, walking snail-slow, not looking forward to an hour on the said torture machine. Heartcore is a bright and airy space, with red bricks, white walls and large windows. The sun shines right in through the glass and warms your face gently. By the time we got there, my friend was already in reformer-mode and she lost me at "It's great, right?" She grinned at me, mouth wide open, sweat trickling down her temples. Meanwhile I was fuming, cursing at every plank, notch, hook and bar on that machine. My feet wouldn't go anywhere, I was so confused by all of it, not knowing what went where. But only minutes after I settled in, and much to my surprise, Keri from Heartcore was already standing right by my side, assuring me that I wasn't going to hurt myself. She told me that I was safe and then before I knew it, I was smooth-sailing on the reformer and enjoying the class. I was grinning and sweating too. Whaddaya know. Pilates is a tough sport. You've gotta know what you're doing if you're gonna be doing it right. The reformer helps you get into place and supports you every step of the way.

You'll be in heaps of pain the next day, and the day after that and the day after that. And the cost is a tad cringe-worthy as well (£25 for a single class, £20 for a 10-class package). But it's worth it. You'll see the results almost immediately. Hey, beauty is pain, right?

A Little Bit of Poetry in My Life

I was an English Major in college, studying everything from Shakespeare, Austen and Faulkner, to Hemingway, Melville and Roth. I loved reading English and American authors back then. And I still do. My first class at my American university, and most detested class at that, was a mandatory requirement taught by this stringent witch-like old lady who made Yeats, Keats and Lord Byron sound like grumpy frumpy mathematicians- taking apart every verse and paragraph like a calculator.

Haha, seriously???

                                                       

Now let me make this clear: I hate maths. Absolutely loathe maths. Never been good at them, and never will. So when the first course I took from my English curriculum made me make a double-take at my class schedule, I started to wonder why I'd ever taken up English as my major, especially when it was, back then, a huge handicap for me language-wise.

John Keats, 1795-1821

                                                

Then after a while, I understood why. These authors enabled me to escape from my American yet Euro-centric college experience. They made me fantasize about what it would have been like to live in these times. 19th Century England with Austen, 16th Century England with Shakes, 20th Century war-times in America, France and Spain with Hemingway...I could go on. They made me love the English language. After a while, I grew more and more curious of American literature and eventually, my love and admiration for English literature ensued.

Now, I am able to say with assurance that my move to London was in big part due to my curiosity for the English Albion and the romanticized and poetic England that I had come to grow so fond of through English literature studies. I was in need of a little poetry in my life I suppose. A little bit of Europeanness without reverting back to my European French roots.

John Keat's House, Hampstead, London

During a "trip" to Hampstead from my little nook in Notting Hill, I was thrilled to discover my favorite poet's house. An Ode to A Nightingale was by far my most cherished literary discovery back in my college years. By gazing at John Keat's house from a hidden street corner and leaning in gently through the tree branches, I was able to see the little garden gem he wrote this poem in. It is such a lovely sight. And not only is the garden a sight to see, but the adorable rooms inside the house also give you a glimpse of his romantic engagement to his lover and wife Fanny Brawne, as well as the tragic ending to his short life in a fight against tuberculosis. All in all, it is a splendid and memorable visit, one you will keep in your hearts, so long as your poetic side allows it.