KERRE MCIVOR

KERRE FINDS HER INNER WARRIOR AT A SOUTH PACIFIC YOGA RETREAT

When the Weekly team sent me off to write about a yoga and wellness retreat in Niue, I wasn’t entirely sure I was the right person for the job.

I have tried yoga in the past – who hasn’t? But I’ve never felt it was for me because I simply don’t bend. It’s like asking a brick to be flexible. I thoroughly enjoy Pilates but yoga not so much. Perhaps it’s also because when I first heard about yoga in the ’70s and ’80s, it was all about spirituality and silence and baggy cotton pants, and girls with unshaven legs and armpits. Some people go for that sort of thing but not me. Especially the silence bit.

But I was dying to visit Niue – I’d heard very good things about the place. Surely I could put up with an hour of yoga every day in return for experiencing the island?

It turns out I wasn’t the only one among our group of 15 who was a little nervous about the yoga. After chatting with the amazing women (and one even more amazing man!) who made up our group, I discovered that while some of the team had been practising yoga for years, most of us were novices. And I wasn’t the only one who’d had friends laugh out loud when I told them I was going on a yoga retreat!

We all bonded very quickly as we travelled from the wee airport to our gorgeous resort and we novices decided that as the experienced girls were so lovely, we’d give the yoga a go. And it was amazing.

Mel, our instructor, was a brilliant walking advertisement for yoga.

Clear of skin and sparkling of eye, with not an errant body hair in sight, she guided us through a few gentle poses to give us a good stretch after the flight. We had the session outside on the deck of the Matavai Resort and it was fabulous to be caressed by warm winds while listening to crashing waves. No need for mood music – it was all provided by nature.

I followed Mel’s actions as best I could and she gently adjusted us to accommodate our abilities – or lack thereof. No way could I place my foot between my hands and rise to my feet. My undercarriage and enormous double-F boobs left my leg no room to get past. But Mel told me it didn’t matter, and once I was up on my feet doing a warrior pose or a sun salutation, it felt fantastic. I felt strong and focused and as though I was giving my body the respect it deserved.

I couldn’t do the tree pose – the one where you stand on one leg with your hands outstretched and your other leg bent at 90 degrees with your foot resting on your inner thigh – but I devised my own pose, the shrub, where I managed to balance while resting my foot on my inner calf. Mel said that was a very good start and I glowed under her approval.

I did think my downwards-facing dog might have caused the villagers to think there’d been an eclipse of the sun as I raised my enormous bum to the sky, but we didn’t stay in that position long enough to startle the locals or our fellow resort guests.

There’ll be more about Niue and the retreat in the Weekly’s travel pages, but I did want to share my newfound love of yoga with you. In fact, I signed up for a yoga class the very day I got home. Namaste, baby.