Part 2

Right, so we have now established that I find aqua-jogging a bit tedious and rather tiresome.  Little did I know that it could get worse...

Since arriving in Germany, I have somehow managed to throw my hip out.  Thank you Poppet.  It's like the Gods are calling me back to the pool for some rehabilitation...aaaaahhhhh!

So I bought myself some pregnancy togs (don't even get me started), checked out the best route to the closest pool, and set out of a Saturday morning adventure.  As I leave the house Flo gives me some words of advice - make sure you dry your hair properly before you leave.  That's kind of him I think.  If I were him, I would have loved watching me come home with my hair frozen to my beany.

Getting to the pool - easy.  Buying a ticket - easy.  Figuring out how to work the doors on the changing room - not so easy.  Finding my way from the changing room to the actual pool - bloody near impossible!

Thankfully a little old Dutch lady - who truth be told had also gotten herself trapped in the revolving doors with the pool in sight and no way to get there - took me under her wing.  Yelling at the German desk assistant, we managed to get an escort to the showers.  Woah Nelly.  My first time in a German shower room where not one stitch of clothing is worn and naked butts greet you as you open the door - we're not in Invercargill now Toto.  So I run the water over me (togs still on) and hear the little Dutch lady calling for me to come on.  She then proceeds to tell me that I haven't washed my body, just my togs, and I need to be naked next time.  Not bloody likely.

Having been told by the desk assistant that aqua-jogging starts in 5 mins - who knew this would be a group endeavour - said Dutch lady and I head to the pools.  The pool attendant points us in the direction of the class and off we go...big mistake.  Aqua-jogging apparently roughly translates into "aqua aerobics", and aqua aerobics translates into "old people's movement class with foam noodle".

Unfortunately the instructor spots Dutchy and I coming into the room and quickly throws us each a noodle.  I look into the pool and realise that not only am I the youngest one there by a good 20 years, I am also at least a foot taller than everyone else.  So much for trying to fit in.  Every time we stand up to stretch, I look like I belong in Gulliver's Travels.  Thankfully it turns out I have come at the end of the class which ends 10 mins after I arrive.  Phew, I think, now to find the aqua-jogging belts and the deep end of the pool.

WRONG!!!!

The pool attendant who thankfully speaks "ein bisschen Englisch", informs me that there is no aqua jogging. Instead, I get handed another noodle, get a brief demonstration in German of how to put it behind my back and get pointed in the direction of the 'olympic pool'.  Now olympic merely refers to the size, not the lay-out of the pool which, when I got closer, resembled a demolition derby.  There are no lanes, no order and definitely no German efficiency.  People are flapping around randomly, fighting for space and creating what can only be described as 'rough waters'.

I slip gingerly into the deep end - noodle in hand - and stake out my space next to a wall.  Then I jog/stumble along in an attempt at some form of exercise.  I would have felt like a complete tool, had it not been for the people around me.  Firstly, I haven't seen so many speedos in one area since the olympics in the 80s.  Secondly, swimming here is completely different to anything I've ever witnessed before.  Again, olympic pool does not mean olympic training.  Well actually, if there was an olympic medal for doggy paddle, there may be some definite contenders at Nordbad.  My favourite was the man I like to refer to as jet-boat man.  I think jet-boat man was trying to do freestyle, and whatever it was, he was working up some serious puffing. But the end result was one-stroke under the water, the next stroke raising his entire front half out of the water much like a jet-boat gaining speed.  Exhausting if you ask me.

After 15 minutes I pack in the towel - well noodle - and head back to the nudey showers.

As I stand in front of the mirror (fully clothed thank you) drying my hair with a barbie sized plastic hair-drier, Flo's words of warning in my head, I can't help but think that this is the start of a very long relationship...with my couch.  Aqua-jogging - hell no!

T