Kat's Japanese Adventure

Recently I’ve been unsatisfied with the workouts I’ve been getting on my own: biking everywhere, walking about, generally not getting enough cardio for my liking. I’ve heard rumors of a cheap/no-frills gym in the area, and yet I’ve never managed to find it, no matter how hard I hunted.

So I bit the bullet and signed up for the “fancy” gym (read: a little less nice than the Queen’s PEC used to be - dungeon status but functional). I figured I could muddle through the registration process by myself easily enough, and so didn’t seek help to join. It worked out- I succeeded in getting a heavily discounted weekend membership to the gym, pool and occasional class. It was a job well done. The next day at work, I was satisfied that I had finally figured out how to do things on my own, when no less than 6 different teachers flagged me down to talk about my new gym membership. ARGH! It’s alright though, I got a bunch of other free things in because of all of this extra influence. Ah, the life of a local celebrity is rough.

  I wanted to try this new dance craze called “Zumba.” It’s a Brazilian aerobics/dance fusion that seems to be quite popular amongst the local men and women alike, despite their inability to shake their hips in any convincing fashion.  I stationed myself at the back of the classroom to temper my inevitable embarrassment, and was given a great view of the whole group - 20 or so middle aged men and women grinding about. They were flawlessly in time, great at executing the dance-moves in a perfect rhythm with the rest of the class, and yet I couldn’t find anyone who even remotely exhibited the slightest ability to move their hips at all.

It was fantastic fun even though I could barely keep up. The instructor was a veritable jumping bean (with excessively functional hips, which I was forced to watch to cling to the moves for dear life for over an hour…), as he bounced from one dance routine to the next, communicating the next moves wordlessly to the scores of agile folk ( myself excluded) behind him. With one flick of his elbow, the whole room would burst into a pre-choreographed routine of spins, thrusts and YMCA’s that would leave me in the dust in an instant. It was fantastic. We did a ton of “snake” moves, spins, jumps, pops  and overall oozed more [s******ty] than I’d ever seen in the inaka (Japanese countryside) yet.

On the way out of the gym, I encountered a dozen or so of the boys from my high school. Like a dog standing on it’s hind legs, they were in awe that I had begun to have a life beyond the school walls. Here’s hoping they don’t sign up for zumba too!

I will be practicing for next week, when I shall return with a vengeance.