I have a new craze, in its infancy, but looking likely to take hold. A five minute walk away from us is the Piscine Jean Taris. I've been feeling fairly sedentary lately and worried that I'll fall into disrepair without some exercise. I've never been keen on swimming, but I went along yesterday to check it out, and see if I could navigate the French pool system. I'd been scared by Richard's tales of militancy in regard to all men in Speedos policies. When at a outdoor public pool a couple of summers ago he'd been bullied into them by some officious poolside guard, and then when he'd had his swim and was preparing to lie by the pool in his swim shorts, the guard marched over again and stood in front of him while he stripped down once more to the hateful things.
The Piscine Jean Taris has a complicated timetable; mostly the pool is given over for school lessons, and the public get slim access - an hour at sometime around dawn, a couple in the evening, and one mid-day. I trundled along then, wearing my contact lenses so as to be alert at all times in and out of the pool. I was nearly put off by the massive queue. If I take the Piscine Jean Taris as a microcosm of all French bathing habits (and mon Dieu, why not?), then the French love to swim. I persevered, paid my €3 and then stood deliberating in front of the vending machine for a while. Cheapest swim suits and the mandatory "bonnet de nager" are €8 and €2.50 respectively - a bargain. I couldn't decide between two sizes of suit but went larger - and thank goodness I did. It is horribly small, and the only way to walk comfortably is to adopt a boomerang-shaped stance. That in combination with the incredible forehead-creasing bonnet gives me the appearance of an aged Klingon.
Ha' lotlhmoq! (Let's swim! in Klingon, kind of.)
All this obligatory Speedos/bonnets stuff is part of a big hygiene drive. In order to get to the pool you have to go through a shower and a foot pool and past stern signs warning you that the hygiene of all of us is down to the individual. Socialists. But it's all worth it to get to the pool which is just lovely, nice and warm and clean. It's very busy, but I stay in the lane with the other subnormals, away from the strong swimmers doing the papillon further along.
Today I went without my lenses, which was nerve-racking until I got into the pool, then I just fell into lane behind other swimmers and bumbled my way up and down in blurry contentment. When I got out I felt empathy with whales and other cetaceany chaps - in the water I felt in my natural state - outside, my legs wobbled from the unaccustomed exercise, I doubled over to fit my swimsuit and not being able to see became more problematic. I needed lots of public minded passersby to come along with sticks and roll me back into the blue. Clearly my natural habitat is the water of the Piscine Jean Taris - why has it taken me so long to work it out?
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2 comments:
Ha Ha! That is a brilliant description of the fear us spectacled people feel when going blindly into a new pool, not to mention a french one! Swimming hats off to you my dear! Do you really have to purchase a new teeny swimming costume every time you go? Seems a bit excessive!
I would be too scared to go...quick tip, if you get goggles and wear them at all times you can safely wear your lenses. And it will make you look and feel more like a sea creature too.
I remember passing the piscine when I went on my adventure to the sticker shop - it's kind of underground isn't it? Good for you for going, I love swimming, but like all exercise, you have to get into the habit of going regularly to remember how much you like it once you're there! And I'm with Joy - goggles will transform the experience for you, I was amazed when I purchased a pair recently how good they are these days! Happy swimming. X
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