Articles by

miya peard

Miya is an ongoing study in the art of integration. A lawyer by day and yoga instructor by night, these two modes of being initially appear to be at odds with one another. However at the heart of each is the desire to be of service to fellow humans (and animals, as the case may be). You can find her at Blacksburg Law or teaching yoga at Union Yoga and Bernal Yoga, depending on the night.

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04/17/12 7:52am

Castro Theater, venue for the San Francisco International Film Festival (Opening Night)

In just a few days, on April 19, 2012, the San Francisco International Film Festival will open for its 55th year. The inaugural “International,” as it’s known on the circuit, took place in 1957 and was the first international film festival in North or South America. For 14 days, films from 12 different countries played all over San Francisco. The International has come a long way, as this year it will be screening 174 films from 45 countries.

The International’s existence was due in large part to Irving M. “Bud”  Levin. Perhaps because Levin grew up with movies (his father Samuel Levin built the Balboa, Coronet, Galaxy, Stonestown, Coliseum, Vogue, Alexandria and El Rey theaters-no, they didn’t start off as Crunch gyms), Levin wanted to expose San Francisco to film as an art form. San Francisco, for its part, needed to stay competitive in the arts world and agreed to give Levin’s film festival some credibility by allowing it to use the Art Commission’s name.

If only it were that easy. No funding came with the use of the Art Commission’s name. To make matters worse, the fledgling International lacked support from Hollywood and other festivals of the day: Cannes, Venice, Berlin and Edinburgh. Specifically, the Venice and Cannes festivals fought the International and did not want their film industries to show any of their films at the new festival. Levin had no money, and the rest of the film world was fighting him.

What Levin did have was San Francisco. Local San Franciscans were enthusiastic and proud to be hosting an international film festival, and many volunteered to stuff envelopes and send press releases.   The foreign consulates wanted to celebrate the films from their homelands. It seems almost every consulate hosted a pre- or post-party of the film from its country.

Finally, on December 4, 1957, before a crowded 1,000+ audience at the Metro Theater on Union Street in Cow Hollow, San Franciscans and foreign dignitaries dressed in ball gowns and tuxedos sat in anticipation as the lights dimmed, and Helmut Kautner’s “The Captain from Kà­ ¶penick”  began to play.

Fifty-five years later, many of us San Franciscans take it for granted that we have a world-renowned international film festival showcasing the art of film from around the world. Some films tell the simple story of human existence-the setting and language mere clothing. In other films, such as “OK, Enough, Goodbye” , the country and culture are silent narrators. Some films will be out and out crowd pleasers, like opening night’s “Farewell, My Queen”  and closing night’s “Twixt” .

The International is venued across several Bay Area theaters. San Francisco venues include the Castro Theater, Sundance Kabuki, SF MOMA and the new San Francisco Film Society Cinema.  (If you’ve never been to the Castro Theatre, you cannot consider yourself a true San Franciscan.)    

I enjoy fictional films with a good story that draws me in and also offers some insight into this thing called Life. From the list of screeners available to the press, I chose “OK, Enough, Goodbye“-a film that promised to offer a new perspective on the mundaneness of Life; and “Summer Games“-a coming of age story set in Italy (who wouldn’t choose this?).   (I also enjoy good documentaries, but my top documentary choices were not available for viewing at the time of this review.)

Scene from “OK, Enough, Goodbye

Lebanon’s “OK, Enough, Goodbye”  premiered in 2010 and won a major prize at the Abu Dabhi fest. The film’s pace and method of storytelling is definitely not for everyone, as it mirrors the pace of our unnamed hero’s   (Daniel Arzrouni) life as he meanders around the sleepy city of Tripoli. Though if you enjoyed “Jeff Who Lives at Home” , chances are you will also enjoy this sweet and thoughtful movie.

The filmmakers, Lebanese Rania Attieh and U.S.-born Daniel Garcia, introduce our hero lying in bed, yelling for his mother for no other reason than to know where she is. In that moment, the entire mother-son relationship is defined. The following scenes simply texturize the relationship as you watch our hero, a baker, bicker with his mother over taking a trip, dye her hair, and call from his bed at night to make sure she has locked all the doors. The only relationship he has in the entire world is with his mother. As a result, when she leaves him alone-taking a bus to Beirut without telling him-he desperately tries to find another woman to fill that void.

Arzrouni does a wonderful job of conveying the nerd-ish and child-like discomfort our hero has with women-with awkward silences and averted gazes. We cringe because he’s a mama’s boy and not a man; however, it’s the mama’s boy in every man that teaches him respect for women. This is perhaps why our hero doesn’t fall in line with the other Lebanese men and let the maid service beat his maid when he tries to return her. Instead he drives her all over town trying to find alternative placements for her, and even takes her to a church where she can be with other Ethiopian women.

The filmmakers incorporate documentary-style clips that provide journalistic coverage of Tripoli, including melancholic and beautiful footage of the rotting International Faire of Tripoli site, along with interviews of the side characters, with a particularly disturbing account by little neighbor boy Walid as he talks about punching his friend in the stomach. This perspective of Tripoli condemns our hero to a life of quiet decay.

Though the protagonist is not particularly pleasant, he manages to evoke sympathy in the viewer as he struggles to create a life for himself at the age of forty-after his mother packs their fridge full of food and takes off for Beirut.

Armando Condolucci plays Nic in “Summer Games

Summer Games”  is another festival award winning film. Written and directed by Rolando Colla, it won Best Fiction Film at the Swiss Film Festival and was selected as the Swiss entry for the Academy Awards’ Foreign Film nomination.

Set at a Tuscan beach, Summer Games tells a timeless coming-of-age story if two adolescents.   Nic, played by Armando Condolucci, is the central character-a barely teen who is mastering the skill of not feeling anything. The films introduces us to Nic, sitting in the car while his younger brother, Agostino, and his father struggle to assemble a family-sized tent at a beach campground. When his father asks for help, Nic walks away lost in his own torment.

Nic and Agostino eventually befriend other youths at the beach: Lee, Patty and Marie. It is Marie, played by Fiorella Campanella, to whom Nic is drawn, and it will be Marie who gives Nic a moment so happy and beautiful that it penetrates the walls he has built.

The parents in this movie are a presence-if for no other reason than because they each so palpably have shaped Nic and Marie. Still, Nic and the rest spend hours on end by themselves playing games reminiscent of that played by the youths in Lord of the Flies.

Condolucci is a talent to watch. His portrayal of Nic is full of depth and complexity. Condolucci more than holds his own in those scenes where Nic must confront with and fight his father, played by Antonio Merone.

The Tuscan setting is not central to the movie; it could be set in any popular family summer getaway. Nonetheless, the scenery is beautiful and the glimpse into another culture feels like taking a little vacation in a different world. That being said, Colla’s camera technique skips the glossy sheen and gives the getaway a gritty feel.

Make no mistake, this film is not an idyllic summer romp about losing one’s virginity. Rather, it is about that point in time when we see and accept the truth for what it is-and call it that. It is about how children are shaped by their experiences in life-experiences that can make some want to not feel anything at all.

Of the two films, “Summer Games” definitely has more popular and broader appeal. It’s a very safe date movie bet and definitely worth the price of an evening show. “OK, Enough, Goodbye” will not appeal to everyone, so make sure you know your friend(s) well before you suggest seeing this. This movie is worth an evening full price ticket, but for me it’s one that I’d rather watch at home and digest.

The SF International Film Festival runs from April 19, 2012 to May 3, 2012. For more information, including all the films that will be showing, visit the festival website.

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03/22/12 2:05pm

When I first quit my 9-to-7 job, I was able to walk everywhere I needed to go, or take Muni. I lived in the middle of the city, nothing was too far and Muni transports were plentiful. But then I moved to Bernal Heights, a seeming “suburb” within the city. Places were far and Muni was scarce. As a result, I’ve been thinking about getting a bike. But what type of bike should I get for this city of hills and Muni track traps?

A few days ago, on our way back from brunch, my boyfriend and I passed by a new bike shop in town, The New Wheel. This was its very first day. We peeked in. The bikes looked cool, but they were far more expensive than the other bikes I had looked at. The starting price was around $2,700 for a simple cruiser. Yowsers! What was so special about these bikes?

That’s when I (over)heard it: “They are electric bikes.” 

In 2011, Brett Thurber, owner of The New Wheel, read an article in The New York Times  on electric bikes. The electric bike struck Thurber as an elegant form of transportation for a metropolitan community like San Francisco.

These electric bicycles are not scooters. You still have to peddle like you do on a regular bicycle; however, unlike a plain bike, the electric bike has an electric motor that kicks in to help power the bike. The “second generation”  of electric bikes, as Thurber likes to refer to them, have smaller batteries than electric bikes from a generation ago.  A computer  helps to integrate the power from manual peddling and the power from the battery. The electric motor is hooked up to the rear wheel. The torque from the rear tire is what the computer uses to determine how much help to give the rider. You can choose how much “assist”  you have while riding-anywhere from 1 to 4 (4 being the most). When you’re going downhill, you can set the computer to use the energy from braking to help charge the battery. (The battery will recharge even if you don’t change the computer setting, but not as much.) The result is a bicycle that can go up hills or carry heavier loads with less human effort than a non-electric bike.

That’s a lot of technology on a bike. Of course, I was tantalized by the prospect of riding a bike up and over some of our big hills without really breaking a sweat. Lucky for me, this new bike shop also rents electric bicycles!   The sunny and warm day beckoned us to the beach.

It being their first day open, my boyfriend and I became rental-process guinea pigs. It took a little while to find us bikes-I consider myself average height, but they needed to find a smaller bike for me to ride. Then they had to find the seat to go with it. Then they needed to figure out how to take the trailer hitch off the back so a day pack could be put on. Then, locks for the lights and front tires needed to be installed. And then we needed to be given instructions on how everything worked. And then”¦.we were off! Two blocks later my seat slipped and we had to return for some tightening.   Through all of this, The New Wheel shopkeeps were nice, helpful, accommodating and generous.

I found my bike-with  27 gears, hydraulic brakes and a computer for the motor-comfortable. I didn’t notice too much aid on the flats, but going uphill I really appreciated the little motor assisting me (especially after kicking the assist all the way up to 4). That being said, my electric bike weighed about 50 pounds-15 pounds or so is directly attributable to the engine and the wiring components-so the engine at least helps with carrying around its extra weight. I still had to downshift when going uphill, especially when we rode up and over Bernal Hill on Folsom. This should tell you something because a) I haven’t ridden a bike in ages; and b) I’ve never ridden a bike as my primary means of transportation. The fact that I could make it over the hill at all speaks to the power of the electric bike.

My boyfriend (who does ride a bike as a primary means of transportation) reported a similar experience. He really noticed the aid of the motor while going uphill. Because the computer-provided assistance is based on how hard you work (the torque on the rear tire), it tends to even-out the playing field. He could work not so hard but not get as much assistance, or work harder and get more assistance. Either way, we were both able to go up and over big hills together-despite the disparity in our bike riding backgrounds. That was pretty groovy.

On the downside, these expensive bikes laden with valuable equipment were kind of bulky. When we finally parked our bikes at the beach, we spent some time trying to get them to fit in the allotted bike racks-I had to remove my seat so that we could lock them properly. Not such a big deal, really, and I’m pretty sure my boyfriend had no qualms with it.

Overall, I loved renting and riding the electric bikes. It made for a perfect Saturday. I’d definitely do that again on a sunny San Francisco day, and I know that the next time I do The New Wheel folk will have streamlined the process. I’m still not sure about about buying an electric bike though. The bottom line for me is the weight. It’s just too heavy for me to carry up and down any stairs, and my life is filled with nothing but stairs right now. If I had a place to stash the bike on the ground level, I would definitely be tempted. (Lord knows I’ve probably paid the DPT $3,000 in parking fines!)

Want to experience for yourself? Stop by on Sunday, April 1 for Grand Opening Festivities, including an all-day bike ride along the Scenic 49-Mile Route and free bike tune-ups-regular or electric.

The New Wheel [Map]
420 Cortland Ave.
San Francisco, CA 94110

Follow Untapped Cities on Twitter and Facebook! Get in touch with the author  @miyapeard.

09/21/11 2:03am

Remember The Metamorphosis? Remember how Gregor Samsa emerged and stretched into his giant bug body and how good it felt? Okay, well maybe Gregor didn’t feel good initially-rather, he felt kind of awkward and clumsy. Imagine that feeling of awkardness, like a bug on its back trying to flip, but surrounded by others as you all find your insect wings. This is Firefly Yoga. A hybrid of aerial silks-think Cirque du Soleil-and yoga, Firefly Yoga doesn’t really require any underlying basic knowledge of yoga or silks, just a sense of experiential adventure and a dash of humor.

Spawned by Marina Luna, Firefly Yoga involves the use of a tangerine-colored nylon hammock secured to a metal beam at two points that hangs about three feet off the floor. (The distance can be adjusted, depending on one’s height and comfort levels.) Luna combines the use of the hammock with traditional yoga in a fun and playful way: “I just want people to have fun with it. I just think it’s such a fun, interesting way to move. And I feel like it brings out the kid in everybody. You know, most of us don’t get to hang upside down since we were little kids”¦ And I feel like, ideally, you feel really good afterwards.”  Some exercises use the hammock as a support while standing, sitting or kneeling, while other exercises involve the participant sitting inside of or wrapped around the hammock. Though the nylon feels like lingerie, fear not for it can hold up to 3,000 pounds-plenty strong to hold you as you flip, twist, turn and hang.   A yoga mat is also used, mostly to orient people but also to prevent people from sliding on the floor.

Luna studied aerial acrobatics for ten years and practiced yoga for thirteen years; she has been teaching both for almost as long.   When she began teaching at Urban Flow, she was encouraged to teach a fusion of the two. Luckily, Luna’s residence could be outfitted with her own private hammock with which she could experiment.

Luna has had to adapt and modify the class because, unlike an aerial acrobat class that might have a maximum of four people and one hammock, she needs to be able to safely instruct and supervise 11 people with eleven hammocks. She has “had to slow it down a bit and, at the same time, make it feel more like a yoga class.” Luna explains, “It’s more experiential than either my regular style of vinyasa class or the circus class. A little movement changes a lot.” 

Despite these modifications, there are aspects of Firefly Yoga that will take some getting used to. As Luna explains, “People think, ”˜Fabric soft. Hammock comfortable.’ But you’re hanging in it, and so there’s often pressure that’s unexpected and odd feeling.”  [Um”¦yes, totally true statement. The fabric might be six feet wide, but then it bunches and squeezes and”¦unexpected and odd feelings abound.]

Another drawback? Motion sickness. “Because it moves, it’s a little like being in a boat,”  Luna sympathetically tells me. To help combat that, acupressure bands and ginger chews are now regularly offered to those in need. It’s also recommended that you come to class with a little something in your stomach-if you eat about 2 hours before class, you should be fine.

Tricks of the trade

Every bug must go through an awkward pupa stage, only we get the benefit of Luna’s instruction! The class is truly an all-levels class: no matter how advanced your yoga practice, you will be moving in totally new and different ways-which equals teenage years all over again. (If she ever went through an awkward larva stage, Luna’s lithe and muscular body betrays nothing as she effortlessly demonstrates the various poses and movements.) Luna begins the class with basic orientation and familiarization with the hammock. Before you know it, you’re sitting in the hammock and then inverted in it. Core work done in a hammock takes on a new dimension as does deepening a stretch. That being said, because different parts of your body are suspended in any given pose, Firefly Yoga is also a good option for people with injuries who need support in particular poses. There’s also plenty of the fun aerial stuff as you find your bug wings to fly, or float, or just unroll.

Before you know it, your little bug tail will be in the air.

Luna demonstrates a core exercise using the hammock.

Flying firefly

Despite any awkward feelings, the experience is simply beautiful. Sitting inside of the hammock, enveloped in an orange cocoon as you float in space, is peaceful and comforting. As Luna describes her experience: “We use the word ”˜float’ a lot and that’s what I love the most about it-it’s that you can really just float, you can really just hang in it, and be safe and held and free, too.”    You emerge feeling renewed, if not completely transformed.

Firefly bugs cocooning

To find your inner bug, check out a Firefly Yoga workshop at Urban Flow studio. It is a completely donation-based class (recommended donation: $20.00). The schedule for workshops can be found on Luna’s website  and  Facebook  page.

07/13/11 8:48pm

Yoga. In San Francisco, yoga means studios with muted white lights and hardwood floors; bodies contorted and glistening with sweat … while some new agey music hums in the background and beautiful yoga teachers, women and men, soothingly encourage you to release and soften. With prices between $17 and $25 per class, it seems that only those with white-collar jobs have the means to cultivate a regular yoga practice.

Enter Yoga Punx. A donation-based yoga class for those people who feel like they stick out like a sore thumb at the other San Francisco yoga studios. Brainchild of Khristine Jones, a homeless youth outreach counselor at Homeless Youth Alliance, Yoga Punx offers weekly classes at a warehouse space in the Mission known as The Koo Koo Faktory. A certified yoga teacher, Jones wanted to create a space for her fellow yoga punk rockers to gather and practice: “It’s yoga that’s accessible to anyone that feels like they don’t want to go to a yoga studio because they feel weird ”¦ I wanted to make a place that people that normally don’t seek out yoga could come ”¦ and anyone else who wanted to just party with us.” 

“It’s yoga that’s  accessible to anyone that feels like they don’t want to go to a yoga studio because they feel weird …”

Welcome to the Koo Koo Faktory. A warehouse residence in the Mission District of San Francisco, The Koo Koo Faktory is located down a little alley between Valencia Street and Mission Street. The first part of the alley is bordered on both sides by fenced in parking lots-leading me to wonder if I had turned down the right alley. But then appeared cute (dare I say, inviting) corrugated metal doors with plants and flowers on the outside, and kooky signs that welcomed me inside. A short walk through a storage hallway and I entered into the inner sanctum-a cozy room filled with furniture odds and ends. Overlapping rugs with varying designs insulated my feet. A solitary barber’s chair stood one corner. Three mismatching couches lined two walls. Reading the titles of the books on the two bookcases contained in the room, I was struck by the breadth of genres covered: textbooks in organic chemistry to mystery thrillers. A blackboard over one of the couches reminded me (not so gently) that “Your ego is not your F—–g Amigo.”  A small stage in the corner of the room created an L-shape of usable yoga practice space. Taking all of this in, I felt like I belonged, perhaps because everything seemed to have found a home here.

A blackboard over one of the couches reminded me (not so gently) that “Your ego is not your F—–g Amigo.” 

Hello. When I arrived, the Faktory owner (introduced to me only as “Pauly” ) and another class participant were vacuuming and cleaning before class. Three other participants were sitting on one of the couches chatting. Now, I have three tattoos-one of them large enough to cause my mother to think I got it just to torment her-but compared to these other five people, I felt as bare-skinned as a babe ”¦ and out of my element. Shoe on the other foot? Of course, I should have expected this, given that Jones is covered in tattoos. Her ink-black dyed hair has swaths that regularly change colors from hot pink to bleach blond and anything in between. She sports a nose piercing and several ear piercings as well. The existence of any additional piercings, though likely, is purely speculative on my part. In short, no one like Jones has ever appeared on the cover of Yoga Journal.

In short, no one like Jones has ever appeared on the cover of Yoga Journal.

Punxing Out. Jones arrives soon after me and is immediately and warmly welcomed by all. She is loved for what she brings-love and healing with authenticity. Jones begins creating her altar on the stage: images of Hindu gods and goddesses, candles and sage. The Yoga Punx donation chair is set up. We’re ready to begin, and then two more people arrive. And then another person. And then another two people. Mats are rearranged, and strangers get a little closer.

Yoga Punx t-shirts and donation bowl

Gimp Yoga. On this particular Sunday, Jones is leading “Gimp Yoga” : yoga for those suffering from wrist, shoulder and neck injuries. This means no downward dogs, no chatarangas and no upward facing dogs-nothing that puts weight on the upper body. This means leg work. After a short seated meditation, some chanting and a breathing practice, we all make our way to standing. Jones leads us through a series of standing poses, including balancing poses such as warrior three and tree poses, before taking us to the mat for seated poses-all the while giving thoughtful and skillful adjustments. At one point, one of the students mistakenly thought Jones had told everyone to go into “Loser”  pose (instead of “Lizard pose” ). From then on, the students playfully called themselves Losers. After a few supine poses, we rest in savasana-every yogi’s favorite pose as it involves just lying on your back, closing your eyes and just not doing anything for at least a few minutes.

A little loving assist from Jones

Students rest in supta baddhakonasana.

Oh, Yeah-Rockin’ It. Though I did hear some “yoga music”  peppered in her mix, the music did rock: Dead Milkmen (remember them?), The Gits, Violent Femmes, Rancid, The Pixies, Nick Cave and The Clash were only a few of the bands that played on her mix. This was definitely not your grandmother’s yoga music mix. Special guest, Melissa Esposito, played the harmonium and chanted to us in savasana-ensuring we all got our daily dose of yoga mantra.

Melissa Esposito chanting to Yoga Punx students during savasana while Jones listens.

The Nitty-Gritty. Jones currently offers donation-based yoga at The Koo Koo Faktory (1449 Stevenson) in The Mission District of San Francisco on Sunday afternoons from 2:00– 3:30 pm. A Tuesday evening class at 6 pm is coming soon to The Koo Koo Faktory, but the Thursday morning classes at 2 Spirit Tattoo (that’s right, yoga in a tattoo parlor) have been put on hold due to the summer upswing in tattooing, but may return come Fall. The suggested donation is $10, but everyone can participate no matter what their means. Jones once accepted a jar of honey as a barter for her class and was totally stoked. Connect with Yoga Punx on Facebook or keep an eye out for fliers posted around San Francisco. Jones promises an all-level vinyasa class “with kick-ass music.” 