"Bam Bam" our bodyguard friend
So, I came here with the hopes of running around the landscape a bit, but during the week the streets are way too crowded to even hope to share the pavement. Loops around the school are basically the only option, and for now, I've been a little hesitant to return to that method of torture. So, when my new friend, Mavis, said she was joining a nearby gym (within walking distance of the school), I was game.
The gym is located on the second floor of an interestingly put together building. The bottom floor contains a pharmacy (which we can get meds without doctor's orders) and a salon of some sort. The gym itself is decorated in bright pink, with a couple of rooms (they invited our husbands to come, but umm...yeah...probably not their kind of place). There are rooms for aerobics or dance, a weight room, and then a spinning room. Now, I had no idea of how to do any of this. I'm not the most coordinated of folks, but I'll work hard. Carlos (the by-day spinning instructor, the by-night stripper as we came to find out) worked us hard at the bikes "spinning" my first day. We tried another spinning instructor later, and then I got to better appreciate Honduran aerobics with the beautiful, curvy pinup instructor--she definitely taught me some new moves. I was laughing the whole 45 minutes.
Why do I speak of this place today? Well, I did the illegal today. Everyday before this I've taken a cab home. But today after walking with a few of the other teachers that came, I decided it was easy (and more thrifty...it's hard for me to pay for something I could do myself) enough to run home (after all it was only 1/2 mile). I arrived rather sheepishly (and winded...the hills around here are no joke) to greet my dear husband. He was none too impressed, but I got a break. He loves me too much to let a little 1/2 mile get in the way of things!
I've invested in capri biking pants in order to exercise. Shorts are just not the norm. And I actually really like them. And down here everyone has curves, so it ain't no big deal to have the pear shape. In fact, I've had a difficult time finding my size here. Apparently, Hondurans wear either super small clothes, or they haven't yet bought into the lie of small sizes should actually be bigger (the girls are with me, right?). So I tried on my size...nope. It's a size 10 for me here. Pretty crazy. But what's in a size, right?
8 comments:
So glad I found your blog! Elisa, you are GORGEOUS! don't ever dis your body.
Okay, so is "illegal" code for "my husband has forbidden me to walk and/or run alone because it's not safe"? Because if it is, YOU BE CAREFUL! You're bringing out the mother in me!
Well, maybe it's a little bit of a code...but only because we're still figuring out our neighborhood. :) I'll be quiedoro (careful), no problem. I got a cab today--Don Miguel--super sweet Honduran old man. He's moving to the States in 3 years (his wife is already in Miami). He'll probably go illegal, as most Hondurans do. Getting a visa is next to impossible.
So where is the picture of Carlos the stripper?
Dianne
Elisa, how do I get my fb profile picture to come up on my comments? I need your techno-saviness, my friend. There is probably a more appropriate place to post this question which only reinforces the notion that I need help!
Okay, I don't know why I'm "Dylan" in the comment above, but it's me! Julie! Help!
Julie (AKA Dylan)...Ok, friend--make sure you put your e-mail address in as you put your comment. If you did that, and there's not a picture, then you need to upload one to your profile. E-mail me or FB and I can give you the techy details.
I love this entry! If you're a size ten in Honduran clothes, remind me not to shop down there without purchasing alcohol to numb the anguish!
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