Columnist Eleonore af Schaumburg-Lippe writes in her weekly column about life as an expat in Romania. This week she tells about her new hobby,  going to the fitness center and the kinds of people you can find there. 

I have never been a sporty person. Some dancing, and squash and swimming lessons when I was younger, covered my ambitions of getting to the Olympics. So suddenly to find myself going regularly to the fitness center here in Bucharest is quite a difference. The first time I went there I had no idea how the machines worked, but slowly I found out and began to enjoy going, and today I really like it, and even help others adjusting the machines.

But what a cultural and social study it is to go to the fitness center! At times some real 'types' appear at the center, of course there is a lot of what we call normal people who go there for a bit of exercise, but once in a while some people stand out, and it is almost a show to watch them.

One day I saw a quite big man in a white suit with a mobile thing in his ear just standing in the middle of the room. I thought: "why is this big man not training?" Well, while I was riding my stationary bike like it could fly over the swimming pool and get me to Denmark, I saw Mr. Big Guy looking around and checking corners, suddenly I realized; he was a bodyguard. But who would really bring a bodyguard to the fitness center, it seemed like an overkill.

I never found out who he was protecting, I thought if I did a wrong move to see who Mr. VIP was, I could end up getting shot in the fitness center, and I really did not have time for that.

I go to a gym downtown, and the training is mainly in a big room divided into areas that overlooks a huge swimming pool. The macho room, as I call it, is my favorite area to glance at. Here you will see sometimes quite huge men, the size of a tree in a Norwegian forest lifting weights or pumping iron, as they say. The funny thing is to hear the amazing yells and screams that come from them, when as a group they try to pressure each other to lift more and heavier weights. Sometimes it's very jungle-like.

Then in the middle there are more fitness machines, bikes, sliders and the running tracks, where training divas dressed up like they are going out can sometimes be seen. The hair and makeup are perfect, and indeed the old trainers and t-shirt uniform appears be a potentially fashionable training outfit. Sometimes they wear very short skirts, which make the macho men's faces turn red and purple, while teenager-like they try to impress, and ...well... look up the skirts of the divas.

These divas have their own style of training, usually they spend a lot of time checking their mobile phones while they turn the pedals around on a machine like they are going for a small walk, and not a drop of sweat will appear on their faces.

In the back you will find different kind of machines, I haven’t been there so much, this is an area for everybody, but here the men who aspire to be men in the macho will train. It's fun to watch how the men again and again look in the mirrors to see how their muscles have been toned or if they have got any muscles at all, looking again at themselves and sometimes even appearing as though they are sending a prayer to God for muscles.

Then of course there are the very smiley instructors who train the willing. It makes me think of movies set in a military training camp, though hopefully it is more pleasant. The trainers are always very fresh and full of energy, even very early in the morning when I've hardly have woken up myself, they are one big smile and brim-full of energy. Sometimes I feel a little sorry for the poor person who has said yes to private coaching. They can at times have a “have mercy" look on their face while the smiling, but pitiless, coach asks them once more to run back and forth, do a 100 push ups, and lift a 30 kilo weight up and down again and again.

I mainly use the bike, slider or running track, since being on the bike looking down at the swimming pool reminds me of going on my bike along the seaside in Denmark, which I miss sometimes. On my bike, I have noticed some episodes in the pool area, some people dressed in their swimsuit just sit on a chair on the edges of the pool while they read a book, and some must read really good books because they never enter the water but read, gaze around and continue reading.

One of the most interesting things to see happens in the pool: although lanes are marked out, including a 'middle' and a 'fast' lane, there  on the narrow lanes, there is the occasional collision, particularly between men with their heads down, swimming front crawl. This  creates a scene that always makes me laugh. After the bump, the two men stand up and eye each other, like chickens in a cockfight or dogs on a territorial border. They size one another up, then usually the posturing and negotiations, which can take from a few moments to 10 minutes. During the disputes over territory, I swear I sometimes feel like I'm watching a wildlife documentary. I can almost hear the whispery voice over, "The two males must settle their territorial dispute, each tries to signal his dominance, throwing back his shoulders, puffing up his chest and baring his teeth."   At some point they reach an agreement and swim on, and when they meet at one of the ends, either they send each other evil glares or look like best friends.

Still, the pleasure of going there, and the feeling you have when you have finished your training is worth it all, so brush of your training card and shoes and go to the gym, if not to get fit, then to see some of the characters that provide a treasure trove of people watching opportunities.

By Eleonore af Schaumburg-Lippe, columnist

Eleonore is Danish, she holds a BA in Organization and Management and specializes in Corporate Communication & Strategic Development. She is also a Market Economist and a Multimedia Designer. She is currently working in Bucharest as the Executive Director of UAPR the Romanian Advertising Association. As a Danish Viking in Romania, with a great passion for ’covrigi’, she has a burning desire to find out more about Romania especially Bucharest, and enlighten the small differences in the culture between Denmark and Romania.. Her weekly columns will give you insights into an expats life in Bucharest written with humor and a big Danish smile.

(photo source: Photoxpress.com)