Laughter yoga

To spend any length of time in the German capital is to realize that the local population is more given to a growl than a giggle. Berliners are rather poker-faced about laughter, and are perfectly able to crack and receive jokes without so much as a twitch of the lips.

Against that backdrop, I was amused to hear about the growing number of Lachyoga - or laughter yoga groups sprouting up within the city limits. So I had to check it out.

On a beautiful spring evening, I pedalled across town to a low-rise on the banks of the river Spree. The space was huge and even minutes before the hour-long laughter session was due to get underway, it still looked alarmingly empty. But then, all of a sudden, people started arriving and by the time the instructor, Angela Mecking, kicked off the cursory round of introductions, the room was roundly stocked. There were artists, young businessmen, actors and retirees - and a good mix of men and women.

Put on your red shoes...

Let the laughter begin, I thought. But before the bell was to toll for that brand of gaiety, the instructor suggested we loosen up and get in the mood with a dance. And without further ado, she proceeded to put Opus's "Live is Life" on at full blast.

I thought the joke must be on me, for it has been said that I inherited my dancing feet from my father. And that's only good if you're digging shins with fairies. I fleetingly wondered if word of my dance-floor skills had reached the instructor ahead of time, and she was going to use me as a prop to induce mid-week merriment.

But that was not the case. It was no dance-off, but simply an opportunity for people to shake off the residue of the day. And that, they seemed to do with utter relish.

For the love of a laugh

Once Opus had been safely locked away, we settled down to the more important business of laughing. And to bring that on, we pretended to be elephants and kangaroos, trumpeting and hopping about the room guffawing at each other.

We mixed imaginary laughter cocktails which we not only tipped down our throats but on each other as well, and we made like we were fine English ladies timidly giggling at one another from behind our lace handkerchiefs. And in and between all that chortling, we did breathing and stretching exercises and walked about the room clapping hands and shouting "ho-ho-ha-ha-ha" at one another.

It was hard to tell if I was laughing at the concept or at the fact that there is something intrinsically funny about seeing group of adults acting like children. But as Angela Mecking explained to me, it really doesn't matter what it is that sets you off, the main thing is to join in.

"By laughing, whether you are faking it or it's for real, our bodies release endorphins and our stress hormone levels sink, we see things more positively and give off a more positive vibe," she said.

De-stressing Berlin

Sounds reasonable, especially in a city where people feel quite at liberty to humorlessly chastise their fellow citizens for the most banal - and, let's face it - hilarious of offences (mis-positioning a supermarket shopping trolley while queuing at the cheese counter, walking around the wrong side of a car waiting to park, to name but two).

"After practicing for a while, people start to do things without wondering what the others are thinking about them,"” Mecking said. "And if you get to that stage when you stop thinking what other people, your neighbor, your boss thinks of you, then you become very free."”

Ho, ho, ha, ha, ha to that.

The last laugh

Across town in a lofty old villa, I joined another group of happy gigglers. The exercises were different, the outcome equally funny.

For the last fifteen minutes of that, and I have learned, every session, participants are invited to lay down in a sun formation and let it all out until it hurts. The noise level was out of this world and as I tuned in to the incredible mixture of pitch and tone bouncing off the walls, I realized that I had never before heard such a cacophony of uninterrupted laughter. And it was utterly infectious.

When everybody, including the instructor, had calmed down, she began talking us through the final relaxation exercise. "Feel your bodies sink into your mats," she said in a soothing voice. "Feel your belly button take off..."

At that, rather than the chorus of sighs with which practitioners of regular yoga would respond, the participants burst into a fresh round of laughter.

Berliner laughter groups will be meeting at the Tiergarten park on Sunday May 2 in honor of World Laugher Day.