Stretching My French (and My Hamstrings) in Paris

I snuck away to Paris last month, and of course — true to form — the first thing I did was hunt down a yoga class. No matter where I travel, finding a studio and rolling out my mat feels like the quickest way to feel at home.

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Now, my French is… let’s just say basic. I’ve always leaned toward other languages, and the little vocabulary I do have comes from a mischievous French class (my class mates, not me of course) where the main words that stuck were asseyez-vous (sit down) and écoutez (listen). Not exactly the most useful phrases when stepping into a yoga class full of Parisians!

But here’s the magic: yoga really is a universal language. I didn’t need to catch every word. The teacher’s voice became a kind of rhythm, rising and falling like a tide, guiding the room. Instead of mentally translating, I found myself moving with the current of the class, letting breath and body do the listening.

There was something wonderfully freeing about that — not analysing, not comparing, not overthinking. Just being carried by the practice itself. Yoga isn’t about the perfect instruction or the right words (useful for us teachers to remember). It’s about presence, connection, and the quiet knowing that, wherever we are, the mat brings us home.

See you in class soon. With love, Rosie xo