Lotus Land, Raincouver, Vansterdam – you probably already know all of Vancouver’s nicknames. Recently, while strolling through a few different neighbourhoods, I came up with another one: Vanyoga. I’m sure you’ve noticed them, just as I did: huge storefront yoga studios offering the first month’s classes at a ridiculous price, all those signs posted around the city advertising free classes on the beach or an overly expensive retreat or those ladies biking with a mat on their back.

I felt, rather unpleasantly, that this ancient, demanding and spiritual discipline had become a craze and a cult of the body. I was far away from my yoga room in the suburbs of Paris, hidden away on a secret street, which could only hold 5 people at a time, where my teacher, Kaladhar, would adjust our postures with the precision of a clockmaker.

Yoga had changed my life four years ago, and I will always remember the amazing feeling of well-being I experienced after my first class. I could feel my body like never before, my mind was at peace and I felt as if I were under the influence of a drug. It was like a revelation: yoga was as close to heaven as this world had to offer.

I left the City of Lights for the City of Glass with a certain understanding of yoga in my mind. I had been taught that, rather than just being a physical activity, yoga was meant to be a regular practice, a lifestyle and a deep commitment. Being consistent and attending the same class at the same time, every week – that was Kaladhar’s main message. It was the only way for me to discipline my ego and feel the benefits of yoga.

I made the commitment and every Tuesday evening, whether the day had been good or bad, whether it was raining, or whether I had to turn down a dinner invitation to do it, I would do my utmost to respect my commitment and save that time slot. Honestly, it wasn’t always easy. I defaulted a few times and struggled with my ego but I always stayed focused on how good I felt after class.

But when I arrived in Vancouver, the West Coast yoga world had a very different vibe. I tried to go to one of those popular chain studios in the city, just out of curiosity, but upon seeing the receptionists dressed in black behind their silver-grey counters, I felt like I was in the hall of a cold and prestigious hotel. I left right away. Mass-market yoga was not for me. Understand that in my yoga class in Paris, black was not welcome and my spiritual master encouraged us to wear bright colours.

For me, yoga in Vancouver was off to a bad start. Fortunately, hidden away on a charming street full of trees near Commercial Drive I found the perfect studio – welcoming, low-key, spiritual, personal, independent and relevant to my experience with yoga.

Sue, the beautiful, clear-eyed thirty-year-old who founded the studio seven years ago, sees it as an antidote to the problems with yoga culture in Vancouver.

“I witnessed the expansion of those big studios. They started opening branches all around, turning them into chains. They offered expensive training sessions to become yoga teachers. Everyone wanted to become a yoga teacher,” she says.

Sue never wanted to offer teacher training. For her, being a yoga instructor is not a job, but a practice. A former accountant in a real estate agency, she wanted to create a place where people could meet and share.

“I want people to feel good here. I want it to be like their second home. I want that after a yoga class in which they went through a lot emotionally, they can take the time to gather their thoughts, without being asked to leave in order to let the next class in,” she says.

As we talk, a gorgeous bouquet of pink lilies stands on the coffee table, steam rises from cups of tea and honey and the whole place smells like home. I smile. I’ve found my light in the City of Glass.

Translation Coralie Tripier