Our Man in Paris

Exercise!

Having finally conquered a moderate case of inertia on my return to Paris last Sunday by going roller-blading (albeit with questionable success), I thought that I ought to get into the habit of regularly doing something more energetic than shirking the lift to climb the eight stories to my room (having said that, taking the stairs is now recognised as an “Everyday Sport”). I am the sort of person who loves physical activity; indeed, when I’m actually out there, doing something energetic, I feel great. The problem is that accessing good exercise seems to take more motivation and organisation on my part than actually doing it! Take, for example, my efforts to join a table tennis club – when I went to the “Freshers’ Fair” here, it turned out that all the foreign students had been told the wrong time and that we’d missed it. The words “piss-up” and “brewery” sometimes spring to mind in this place. Nevertheless, we were invited to put our names down on a list, and we would be contacted; I heard nothing.

Prior to my return to London, I had decided that I was better off looking further a-field, namely the sumptuously appointed Cité Internationale Universitaire de Paris, where one can obtain an annual pass for three different activities for EUR115. That is, after procuring a medical certificate to the effect that one is fit to practice such sports, and being told that “we don’t do sports passes anymore, you’ll have to go to the Stade Charlety, but they’re not open at the moment”, and finally finding the office at the Stade open. The three activities I chose are swimming, table tennis, and, inspired by my recent experiences, roller blading (for beginners). I was intending to go for "la musculation", which I had understood to mean the sort of bright, airy, welcoming gym with assorted cardio-vascular and weight-lifting machines that those of us who have wasted good money on will rescognise well, until I peeked inside the salle de musculation to find that it was full of guy in vests heaving hunks of metal around, making Arnold Schwarzenegger look like a girl guide. I later found at that musculation translates as "bodybuilding". Hmmm... always read the label, Sam.

I had already become accustomed to the stringent hygiene requirements of French swimming pools (i.e. trunks, rather than boxer shorts, for men, and obligatory caps for all), and purchased the requisite equipment from a sports shop; the two things which struck me most about the pool at the “Cité U.” were how most of the lockers and changing cubicles were broken, and the limited hours that the pool’s available for “free swimming”. Having said all that, I have managed to go today, yesterday and Saturday. Unfortunately, I haven't made it to roller-blading, due to lack of appropriate insurance (more bureacracy!), a pair of roller blades and a helmet. Absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it's on at 9am on Sundays.

posted by Rorkey @ 11:23 AM