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As a Pilates teacher, I’ve practiced in quiet studios, in heated rooms, on wooden decks overlooking the ocean, and barefoot in the sand with salt in my hair. And one thing I’ve learned? Movement feels different everywhere. Not because the exercises change. But because we change.
There is something sacred about a studio space. The familiarity. The mirrors. The heat. The rhythm of breath moving in unison.
In my hot room back home, I know the creases in the floors. I know how the air feels during the first plank. I know when the mental resistance kicks in, and how to breathe through it. The studio builds discipline. It builds consistency. It builds strength rooted in structure. It’s where we refine.
Now take that same body… and place it by the ocean.
Practicing near the water, especially in places like Costa Rica, feels expansive. The breath deepens without trying. The spine lengthens differently. There’s less rush, less proving. You move not to perfect, but to feel. The sound of waves replaces the hum of the heater. The sun replaces the fluorescent lights. Your nervous system softens before you even begin. And suddenly, Pilates becomes less about precision… and more about presence.
Teaching in different places has expanded me. In Canada, there’s structure and routine. In Mexico, there’s warmth and surrender. In Costa Rica, there’s rhythm and connection to earth. Each place brings out a different quality in my cueing, my pacing, my energy. Travel has taught me that Pilates isn’t just a method. It’s a conversation between your body and your surroundings.
The magic isn’t that one place is better than another. It’s that when we change our environment, we often access new layers of ourselves. Sometimes we need the discipline of the studio. Sometimes we need the softness of the sand. Sometimes we need to sweat in the heat. Sometimes we need to move slowly under the sun. Different places awaken different versions of us. And that’s why I’ll never stop traveling. Because every new landscape teaches my body something new, and every new practice deepens how I guide others. Movement isn’t just what we do. It’s where we do it. It’s how we feel while doing it. It’s who we become in the process. And that’s the beauty of taking your practice beyond four walls.