Close encounters of the gym kind.


So…I joined a gym. First of all, yes, surprisingly they do exist in Paris. Secondly, I joined for a couple of reasons. One being that it wouldn’t be my life if I didn’t get injured and my shin has been bothering me for about two weeks now. It’s probably because I wasn’t allowed to run for 6-8 months, so my body was quite confused when I tried to start running once again. If I have to take time off from running/jumping/jump rope, then what am I left with? Well yesterday I just walked up and down our stairwell. And between the spiral staircase, the automatic lights that turn off every two minutes, and the no ventilation, I realized that I needed to figure something else out. Second reason being that it’s starting to get extremely cold (yes, the second my parents left, it became fall). And last reason, it’s really dark in the mornings when I have been running, which can be somewhat creepy/scary. Moral of the story- I now belong to a french gym.

And today I made some delightful observations about the gyms (or at least my gym) in Paris:

1. Since French people don’t sweat (seriously it just doesn’t happen), the towels that they bring go on the seat of whatever machine they are using. I guess this forms a barrier between their clothes and the machine to prevent germs? Although they have no problem coughing on anyone and everything, so I’m not quite sure about their feelings on germs. Also, I myself happen to be one of the luckier people in the world who sweats when they work out. Therefore I was the only person sweating in the gym today. Everyone leaves the gym looking regular and I leave the gym looking like I wrestled a garden hose.

2. As a woman, it’s not really the “normal” to wear shorts and tank tops around the city, even when it’s hot. But I figured at the gym, I could wear workout shorts and a tank top. However, all the women were wearing pants, sweats, running tights (SERIOUSLY WHY DON’T THEY SWEAT?!). But the men over 50 were wearing the same outfits as me. Except their shorts were shorter.

3. When you walk around Paris, you occasionally get a whiff of bad body odor. Yeah, yeah, you all think everyone in Paris smells gross, but this is untrue, as I have smelled some amazing perfumes. Also, in comparison to Santa Cruz (which gets pretty darn hippy), I am now used to the smell that is eau du body. But at the gym, you encounter much more b.o. and in a much smaller space. Not so wonderful. However since most of the people at the gym were only spending on average 5 minutes on a machine (either they get bored with the concept of working out or they’d rather be eating a baguette), I was able to handle it.

Just a short little post today, it’s gotten really busy this week, I have two tests, I’m going to Barcelona this weekend (which means I’m attempting to do homework ahead of time), our internet connection has not been working very well, and I’m pretty worn down. But hopefully I’ll have some good travel stories about Barcelona!


About kelskraz

I've begun this blog to write about various things while I study abroad in Paris. While I major in film (cheese, let's get real), I'll be studying in Paris for 4 months. I hope that I'm able to keep this updated for family and friends to check out what I'm up to abroad (this is easier than my mother putting a gps on my phone, which almost happened). So with that, bonjour!

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