Gendered bathrooms

Paris is notoriously dense. Building footprints and space in the (x,y) plane are coveted and extremely valuable. (Bear with me.) So it is curious and inventive that the city of Paris manages to squeeze a lot of public-accessible spaces in around the private, closed buildings --- a masterful but slow game of tetris to improve the quality of life of all the inhabitants. I had heard that there are many public swimming pools, but the only one I've seen is the Piscine Joséphine Baker, visible because it is floating, exposed, on a barge in the river.

The weather is hot and that swimming pool is currently closed, so I sought out a different one --- Piscine Georges Drigny, which I must have passed every day for several years without noticing. Density. Tetris. It's squeezed in underneath a high school, and the space-saving is extreme: an entry desk, a locker room, showers on the side of the pool. That's it.

One locker room. Just one. There is no gendered separation of spaces, there is hardly any division of spaces at all. The entire facility has only three toilets. There's no space wasted, and space-wastage is not possible.

As with all things, I observed how the locals were behaving and just went along with it. No one was nude in the locker room (there is a handful of private changing stalls in niches in the wall), and post-swim I saw a fair number of people reaching inside their bathing suits to wash what was covered from sight --- everyone washes with soap and shampoo, bathing-suited, out in the public area. The entire thing is a public area.

And it is not a big deal.

No one was creepy in the communal locker room. It was not weird. Everyone just wanted to swim and then go to work, so the entire process was businesslike and smooth. Huge illustrated signs everywhere reminded patrons of the rules (cleanliness, no running, etc.) and the lifeguards were reading newspapers.

This was completely practical and a simple way to ease the space requirements for a public pool. I'm in favor of this being implemented everywhere. I'm also in favor of French manners, politeness, and public rules-conformity being broadly implemented, as this attitude makes for a much more relaxing public experience than the brash, self-interested American style, IMHO.

I'm enjoying the calm rationality while I can, here in a member state of the EU, where civilization, and its concomitant steady supply of fresh bread year-round, still persist.


This post's theme word is parastatal (noun or adjective), "a company or agency owned wholly or partly by the government" or "relating to such an organization." The parastatal pool was packed, but the process ran placidly.

Extremely first-world, privileged problem

Nothing comes out perfectly round in practice; observe, my residence in Paris will not be a number of months divisible by 12. Thus, my gym membership has run out, and I will be here for only ~2 more months. Renewing for a full year is unreasonably expensive when amortized over 2 months; paying per-entry is unreasonably expensive at 25€/day multiplied by my 5-6 day/week gym habit.

What to do?

It's summer, so of course I could just switch to outside/no-equipment exercising, but I find this dissatisfying and it also means zero swimming during the peak heat-relieving swimming months.

On the other hand, I live in a big city and there are many gyms. Most offer a one-time-only free pass (as an incentive to lure people to subscribe), so perhaps I can string together enough free gym visits, interspersed with 25€/day visits and swimming at public pools and running outside, to meet my needs without using up my budget for food and rent.

Problems of privilege --- irritating, but I'm glad that this is the kind of worry my brain has leisure to contemplate.


This post's theme word is sook, "a timid or cowardly person, a crybaby." Ignore that overprivileged sook, visibly-bulging triceps are SO last season.

Paris marathon?

It seems like it is every week with these races in Paris.

They congest the streets, and delay the subways as select stations get paused and skipped for security (?) reasons.

Plus they accent the art on display --- I imagine those in the Louvre comparing the marble statues of human perfection to the sweaty bodies streaming by outside.


This post's theme word is fugleman, "one who leads a group, company, or party." The marathon's fugleman wore short shorts and a bright t-shirt emblazoned with corporate logos.

Running is mental

This morning I went running early, in an attempt to beat the worst of the daytime heat. Unfortunately, no amount of early rising could avoid the humidity. In the course of my run, I nodded hello to several early-morning walkers. Then, about a block away and walking towards me, carrying a flat of water bottles, a man shouted, "WHAT MENTAL INSTITUTION ARE YOU FROM?"

I smiled at the jest but was too distant and winded to reply. So I simply kept running towards him. He, mistakenly thinking that I'd not heard him, or perhaps enjoying his jest enough to repeat it, shouted again "WHAT MENTAL INSTITUTION DID YOU ESCAPE FROM?"

"One quite nearby!" I replied as I ran past him. Because, after all, this was rather unpleasant weather to run in, and I am familiar with the concept that running is a masochistic pastime. So, ha ha, nice joke, buddy.

"SO THE ONE DOWN ON QUEEN STREET THEN!" he turned and shouted at my retreating back. I guess my insanity extended so far as misreporting my own institution.


This post's theme word is funambulatory, "like a tightrope walker." My funambulatory sanity tipped and fell into madness as I ran.

Dragonboat!

I went a-dragonboatin' on the lake. The motion is very strange -- it looks like, but is completely different from, paddling a canoe. It made my back sore. The water was calm, peaceful in a way that I'm not sure is achievable in Toronto, though I will explore my self-propelled water sport options.
The dragonboat looks like it might have done some ramming.


This post's theme word is dizen, "to dress or decorate in a gaudy manner." I bedizened the already-dizened ship with a few more figureheads.

Bad writing (about fitness)

I've been reading a lot of good writing recently, and thinking about what makes it good. I'd like to figure out some lessons and then learn them, to become a better writer myself.

Here, instead, is an anti-lesson, accompanied with a motivating example. (Please forgive my own bad writing; it is late, I am tired, and I have the lingering taste of bad writing in my left brain.)

Good writing shows, it doesn't tell. Numbered lists, foolish quotation marks, and other rhetorical crutches suffuse bad writing, padding it out, easing your mind over the harsh unpleasantness of badly assembled words expressing barely-coherent thoughts.

I just read the article "Everything you know about fitness is a lie" by Daniel Duane. (It's available here, but you shouldn't read it.) The title lured me, and after the first page I, compulsive reader, could not stop. I had to see how far the vapid, vaguely first-person quest could stretch. (Was this guy paid by the word?)

The title was acurate, insofar as Mr. Duane reports that everything I "know" is a lie. Let's start there: there is an assumption of a standard reader with some standard knowledge. I am not a standard reader of Men's Journal. (I think.) Men, even those who read a journal so slimy that merely reading its text on a webpage makes me want to dispose of it in the back corner of a doctor's waiting room and wash my hands thoroughly, do not deserve to be subjected to this level of verbal excrescence.

The standard Men's Journal reader is apparently too slow to understand his own standard knowledge. Throughout the article, Mr. Duane offers reminder of workout-related "facts" that we "know" or "believe." Then he informs us they are false. The tone of the article includes those sarcastic quotes all over the place. Consider the very first paragraph:

I hate the gym. At least, I hate “the gym” as imagined by...

Those quotes serve only to express disdain, and to them I say: I hated this article. At least, I hated this "article" as written by Mr. Duane.

The point of the article, of course, is to debunk "everything I know," mostly by following the author in the riveting tale of his personal journey and life-changing discovery of an amazing, back-to-basics, revolutionary, ancient and time-honored, [buzzword], [buzzword], reviled-by-medical-science-but-actually-SO-good-for-you new workout. Spoiler alert: he likes it.

Even as he denigrates workout systems W, X, and Y for making us obedient, profitable, unfit sheep, Mr. Duane is recruiting us to his new workout system Z. He doesn't address why Z is better than W, X and Y. He just evaluates W, X, and Y in terms of Z. Of course Z is better at achieving Z's objectives, but I bet it sucks at X's objectives.

This is self-unaware writing of the worst sort. Mr. Duane uses the same buzzwords, the same level of excitement and engagement that he mocked in the context of W, X, and Y, to express his total commitment to Z. I suppose it makes sense: if we readers were stupid enough to believe in the workouts he belittles, based on nothing but the recommendations of exercise experts, then we surely will be stupid enough to believe in the workout he expounds based on the recommendations of exercise experts. Again.

It's cheap, it's shallow, and it's a lame marketing tool. I suppose that maybe it earned this guy some money and prestige as a fitness writer. It also gave him an opportunity to publicly brag about the girth of his thigh muscles.

Boo.

I'll keep arranging my thoughts and words on good writing. What are your thoughts? And words? Have you found any good ones lately? What have you been reading? Can you find an article worse than this one? I'm sure it exists; ask, and the vast internet shall supply.


This post's theme word is hagiography, "an uncritical biography, treating its subject with undue reverence," or "a biography of a saint." Mr. Duane's article is a heinous hagiography of Kevin Brown and Rob Shaul.
This post written like H. P. Lovecraft.

Sailing in Toronto harbor

I went sailing. It was nice -- breezy and cool, and we moved by wind power!
This post's theme word: limnology, "the study of bodies of fresh water."

World cup!

Whoooooooo! I've enjoyed watching the world cup games when I can find a television to watch them on. High definition slow-motion sports coverage is amazing. In the slow motion, you can see the players make decisions, react to the game. You can see their muscles contract, pulling their limbs so quickly through the air that the skin ripples. I am in love with slow-motion video of the legs of professional soccer players. It is hypnotic. Were it available, I would be content to watch the entire world cup in that mode. Maybe I can get a blu-ray of the coverage, to peruse in slow motion at my leisure? I hope so.

I mean, just look at the amazing action that happens between seconds:Via The Big Picture.


This post's theme word: semibreve, "whole note." Vuvuzela performances glorify the art of the slurred semibreves.

Snowman scrum

It snowed mightily last night, and when I walked to campus this morning, this was the view on the rugby pitch:Yes, indeed. A scrum of snowmen in the center of the field. The scrum machine is off to the sidelines.

I am amused to think that, for rugby players training during winter, it might be possible to scrum against these snowmen -- as long as they don't flake apart (!), and can take the heat (!) and pressure of a scrum. Wheeee!


This post's theme word: palinode, "apology." Like my response to puns.

Skiing!

Skiing is fantastic. It's like flying that is leg-controlled, favoring my bipedal body. It's amazing, so fast and powerful and thrillingly cold.

Yay!


This post's theme word: inselberg (or monadnock in the US), "an isolated mountain or hill rising abruptly from its surrounding."

Yaktrax

I got some Yaktrax for Christmas. They're like snow tires or chains for footwear.

Awesome. Very good for climbing up packed, ice-slick sledding hill.


This post's theme word: swarf, "metal filings."

[Update, February 26: I lost one of my Yaktrax on campus this morning, the very first time it was snowy enough in Toronto to wear them. It just popped off my shoe, and I didn't notice until I walked onto a cleared street and felt only one foot clicking on the pavement. I retraced my steps and couldn't find it. This is sad. Next time I'll fashion a strap that goes over the top of the shoelaces and prevents this unfortunate occurrence.]

Heraldry

While at the Cory Doctorow reading, a nearby audience member caught my attention and said, "Excuse me. Is that a Radcliffe rugby sweatshirt?" Indeed, it was, and it unfolded that he shared my alma mater and even my concentration, though he graduated before my time. It was nice to have my affiliation recognized, and share a few minutes of common-history-based socializing.


This post's featured word is a bit of a stretch, but I have been waiting for awhile to use it and I just want to take it off the queue. A paraprosdokian (from Greek "παρα-", meaning "beyond" and "προσδοκία", meaning "expectation") is a figure of speech in which the second part of a sentence or phrase is unexpected in a way that causes the audience to reframe the first part. It is frequently used for humorous or dramatic effect, sometimes producing an anticlimax. For this reason, it is extremely popular among comedians and satirists.

Roller derby

I went to see a roller derby match last month with A. and co. It was fun, and reminiscent of rugby -- lots of falling (on pavement! with helmets and pads!) and physicality, girls whipping each other around the corner and elbowing. An unexpectedly large amount of using one's own bottom as a blocking device. I don't think I'd want to play (among other reasons: it involves makeup and decidedly unsporting outfits), but it was fun to watch. The teams' themes and silly names were cute. I rooted for last year's champions, the math/nerd-themed team wearing bright green dresses, but they lost in a close game.


This post is brought to you by the letter G.