Lingerie & strobe lights: the Buenos Aires gym

In case you did not know this about me, I like to work out. I know my chubby chipmunk cheeks paint a different picture, but it is true. I mostly like to run, but I also like to try out classes and circuit training workouts.

For the first 11 months of my time in Buenos Aires, I survived without a gym. I did a lot of long runs in the park, used workout videos, and participated in Boot Camp Buenos Aires classes. However, when it got cold, Boot Camp classes were put on hold and I was getting pretty bored of videos, so I finally broke down and purchased a gym membership.

I did not know exactly what to expect, but after a couple months of spending 6 days a week at the gym, I have finally adjusted to all the oddities. I believe that gyms around the world all have their weird characters and specific rules, and the Always Club gym in Buenos Aires is no exception.

This gym smells like pastries.

Most gyms just have the slightly stale smell of sweat and disinfectant, but the Always Club smells strongly of pastries. This is due to the fact that there is a freaking café taking up a sizable amount of space right when you enter the facility. This café serves outrageously unhealthy bakery treats, coffee, carbonated beverages, etc. When I worked at the YMCA I appreciated that no sodas, sugary drinks or unhealthy snacks were sold in the vending machines. Always Club takes it a step further and says, hey, you walked on that treadmill for at least 15 minutes, how about a coffee and a medialuna for a cool down?

Fashion is not checked at the door.

I have always found poorly outfitted people to be amusing at the gym. In the US I would watch men in jeans struggle to pedal properly on the stationary bikes or mercilessly judge girls wearing a face full of make-up. However, the clothing choices in Always Club have surpassed what I had previously seen. Once, I saw a woman wearing a backless shirt with no bra. I stared at her for at least 5 minutes, wondering if she was headed to the club later and just couldn’t be bothered with carrying a change of clothes. I have completely lost count of how many girls I have seen in expensive Nike high tops and on multiple occasions I have seen men and women wearing scarves. I know Argentines love their scarves, but in the gym? Really?

Please don’t speak to me while you are naked.

I have found that Argentines not only make some odd choices for attire, but they also like to show off their bodies just a little bit more. Most gyms in the US require women to wear a shirt on top of their sports bra, but that rule is non-existent in my gym. Unfortunately, it seems only the older, less toned women choose to forgo the shirt.

The locker room is also a constant battle for me. I am a prude little American girl, and after years of perfecting the staring-at-the-locker routine after gym class in school, I tend to get very uncomfortable when a woman tries to chat with me while she is naked. No, Señora, it is not a “Buen día” because you are naked, within 1 foot of me, and it is 8:30 in the morning for the love of God.

There is one girl who I see regularly who blow-dries her hair in her lingerie. Please keep in mind that the area with outlets is right in front of the entrance door which often swings open and allows any passerby to see directly into that part of the locker room. She stands there in her lacy bra and itty-bitty bikini style panties and checks herself out in the mirrors while she blow-dries. No seriously, I have caught her flexing and checking out her abs.

Argentines like to party.

Argentines love to dance, sing and generally enjoy themselves in a clubbing atmosphere. I know this. What I did not know was that this would affect my gym experience. The classes at Always Club are Les Mills certified, so they are actually very good and quite similar to those in the US. The main difference is they turn off the lights, flip on some colored strobes and blast that thumping music. I cannot tell you how strange it is to walk past one of these classes and feel the woofer shaking my ribcage.

So you spray this “hair spray” on your…hair?

I am cheap and refuse to buy my own blow dryer, so I use the piece of crap one at the gym. I expected the blow dryer to suck, but I did not expect my hair styling habits to attract so much attention. Now, I am not a very fashionable girl and I have never been good with my hair. However, my good friend Nina from Sweden used to cut my hair here in BA and also taught me a few tricks. My whole process involves cheap gel, hair spray, and a round brush. It is not super complicated, but at least once or twice a week some older woman will tap me on the shoulder and ask me what I am doing, what is it that I am putting in my hair and why. I cannot tell you how many times I have had to explain the concept of hair spray to an old lady. It is both baffling and sad.

Like many things, the gym experience in Buenos Aires has been a slight adjustment for me. I have come to accept that my spinning instructor will sing along with the songs and possibly flirt with the women in the class, I can now politely mutter “buen día” in the locker room (as I quickly shield my eyes), but I am sorry, Argentina, you will not catch me in my lingerie and I will continue to glare at the employees baking up fresh pastries while I sweat on the treadmill.