Tuesday, September 15, 2009

On Why the French Will Kick My Ass

Today, I marched over to the sports area of campus, signed up for the rock climbing class, and then after class, headed out with my friend Timmy to climb.

And this is where the story goes downhill. So...

1. Timmy and I walk 30 minutes to the climbing wall, and realize we've walked to the wrong gym (the actual gym was on the other side of Nantes.)

2. Timmy and I realize we can take a bus, so we re-walk the 30 minutes, and then rush to catch the bus as it's leaving. Of course, by rushing, we almost get run over by another bus going the opposite direction.

3. Timmy and I laugh about how funny it would be if we were the Americans that got killed by a bus.

4. 15 minutes later, Timmy and I realize we're on the right bus going the wrong direction. The right bus going the right direction? Was the bus that almost ran us over.

5. Finally get on the right bus, some 30 minutes later. Get off at the right place (finally) and follow some random dudes carrying chalk bags.

When we got to the gym, we realized that the French open climb? Is a class designed for training, no matter your level. Immediately, we were doing crunches, planks and pretty much every abdo- workout there is. Then our instructor had us climbing problems he designed, problems we designed, the works. Then: more abdominals.

And as was the theme for the day, Timmy and I were the unfortunate Americans who a.) didn't know where they were b.) weren't necessarily prepared ( I was wearing a skirt and Timmy had never climbed before) and c.) had almost gotten killed on the way to class. I think the instructor felt sorry for us.

I think I've gone soft living in Iowa, where pretty much whenever someone wants to climb, they go up twice and call it good. In Colorado, it's intense, but more relaxed. You climb how you want. But here? Here, I am getting my ass handed to me, left and right.

I am that American that doesn't understand, that isn't as strong, isn't as well dressed, and oh right, almost dies every time she crosses the street.

2 comments:

  1. You mean you were never semi-ok at volleyball???

    ReplyDelete
  2. I mean, if I told the truth and said I was professional at volley-ball, I might hurt some people's feelings. You know?

    ReplyDelete