Yesterday, I bit the bullet and joined the local gym, fitness.dk. I had several reasons for delaying my membership: One, I thought I could stay in shape by running. Two, I did not want to pay the outrageous startup fee. Third, why would I spend my time on a machine when I could be out exploring? I am abroad after-all. But after three runs outside in below freezing temperatures, I could no longer bribe myself to run outside, and I missed the endorphins. So I joined. Just as I was starting to feel more like a local, being able to use the bus system and no longer requiring a map everywhere I went, I was reminded that I am still definitely an American living in a foreign city:
Point 1: All of the classes, sign in computers, instructions are in Danish. I had to ask how to work the lockers and swipe my card.
Point 2: I know that moms leave their babies in prams outside of stores, but leaving their babies in prams next to the elliptical machine?? Normal.
Point 3: The mens locker room is not the women's locker room. My friend Kayleigh and I were chatting away while unloading out heavy coats into a locker, when a man came up to us and asked (in English, since we obviously were not Danish) "You know this is the men's locker room, right?". Um, no.
Despite the few hiccups, I am happy to report that I like the gym, and its another adventure to conquer, thats for sure.
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