5 Yoga Studios To Visit in Sydney (And The One Thing That Sets Them Apart)

It was pouring in Sydney. One way streets and limited parking had forced the Uber to pull over half way up Kent Street, its hazard lights flashing. I ran towards it, opened the door and jumped into the backseat.

“Hi, Mindbodylife, in Bondi, yeah?” I said to the driver, shaking droplets from my hair. 

“Sure thing” he said. 

Fifteen minutes later I was enveloped in 28 degree heat. Thirty more people had unrolled their mats around me within ten minutes. Impressive for 7am on a rainy Saturday morning. Within an hour, the class had pulled itself into Headstand A, and I was looking around, upside down, at the relative levels of ‘Yoga Progressive’ in the room. I’m forever amazed at how different our bodies are.

In the changing rooms, a pint sized woman pointed at me in the mirror with her black eyeliner and said “You know, Yoga’s different everywhere you go, but then it’s not, really.”

Is that what I was about to find out?

Gomukhasana

On Sunday I walked past smelly rubbish trucks on their early morning rounds. Daylights savings had stolen an hour from the night before, which most people had chosen to recoup by sleeping in. They missed out. The instructor at Be One Yoga in Potts Point had adjustments that could seal a membership. 

On Monday morning I tucked my travel mat back under my arm and set out for Surry Hills. I arrived to the smell of patchouli lingering in the entrance way of In Yoga. A tiny Colombian woman with long dark hair gave just the right amount of instruction to carry the class forward with seamless transitions, all the way to savasna.

I left floating, and it was only 8.30 in the morning.

By lunch time I was encased in darkness. Red Fern had disappeared behind the black out curtains at Humming Puppy. The low vibration of the studios signature ‘hum’ reverberated throughout the room, turning it into an Aladdin’s cave for Yogi’s. Our trove that day was a class full of advanced asana.

On Tuesday I stepped through the doors of Egg of The Universe, crunched over the pebbles that lined the back courtyard, and climbed the steps leading to the loft-turned-shala.

Inside, a yogi lay on his mat, bathed in the early morning light coming through the high windows. It highlighted the floating heads of Disneys Pluto the Dog that danced all over his pink pyjama pants.

Next to him, a womans matching Lululemon ensemble camoglagued her into her mat like the frog logo on a Manduka Pro.

The teacher was a precious find. Personal passion topped prescribed sequencing as she led us through a Shiva Rea inspired flow, taught with genuine enthusiasm for the practice.

The whole foods cafe was open after class. Its menu was accomodating. Scrambled eggs or tofu made to order. The cabinet was full of enough raw and cooked treats to cause analysis paralysis, so I went for the go-to and ordered a coffee. As well as one of the Pottery For The Planet keep cups I spied on the shelf behind the counter.

If Humming Puppy was Aladdin’s cave for Yogi’s, Egg of the Universe was like an all inclusive festival.

Forget good or bad eggs, there were eggs of every kind here, come together right now, to practice yoga.

So according to the edges of my own small universe, I crowned it Best Yoga Studio In Sydney.

I thought back to the Canadian woman flipping comments while flicking her eyeliner in the bathroom mirror. Like anything in life, the people make the difference. Yoga being the same but different everywhere you go, comes down to the yogi’s.

It’s a rare studio that caters for all kinds of yogi’s. Practicing non-judgement gets harder the longer the list of milk alternatives grows, but Egg of The Universe has them all. Dairy and almond milk drinkers can drink their coffee of choice in whatever type of activewear feels right for them.

Namaste to that.