An exercise in tolerance.

Today is another holiday in Argentina, although no one I've asked has any idea what it's for. I went about my usual Monday, with plans to go to the gym. However, I had a very domestic morning: sweeping the floors, cleaning the counter, doing laundry, washing and cutting the stems off a kilo of strawberries, making breakfast, and cooking up the remaining squash so I can make some bread this afternoon. By the time I was ready for the gym, it was already 2:30.

Now, being a holiday, I should have assumed that they would have different hours today. Often they close on holidays, but I saw no indication of that last week, and when I arrived they were open, so I set about my workout.

After 20 minutes, when it went silent and the TVs were off, I realized they were indeed closing early. So I ran fast and uphill, slightly bitter at having my workout cut short. Yes, I could have asked last week about a holiday schedule, but for whatever reason I did not. And why should they bother to put a sign on the door when it's much easier to just cut the electricity to the treadmill under your feet at 2:58?

In general, I have enjoyed my gym. They have hours that work for me, I like the class schedule, it's never very busy when I go, etc. I even wrote a post last year about all the things I love about it. But now, with just weeks before leaving Argentina, I know exactly what I will NOT miss:

1. The ever-changing prices. My six-month membership expired last week.  Three days before its expiration, I asked how much a one-month pass would cost. They quoted me a number that was higher than six months ago, which was too high to begin with, but that is to be expected. I went in the day after my pass expired with exactly enough money to buy a new pass, only to be informed that the price had gone up.  No big deal, the woman said, just bring the rest tomorrow.  YES BIG DEAL.  They guy who told me the price knew that it would be rising, and he should have informed me of it.  Grrr.

2. The snootiness. I've met many lovely people in Argentina, including a few at the gym, but I've been going to the same class now, two days every week, since May. Many of the women in there have been doing the same, and even now there are only a couple who will even greet me.  There are only a handful of employees who bother to greet me.

3. Cell phones. It's one thing to talk on the treadmill, which is a personal pet peeve. But far more irritating are the people -- and there are more than one -- who check their phone between every single set in the class I go to.  It's a lifting class with five-minute sets, and when the rest of us are loading or unloading our bars, stretching or grabbing a drink, these girls are sitting cross-legged and round-backed, poking at their screens.

4. The heat. Buenos Aires gets hot in the summer, but so far this spring there have only been a few days that give us a taste of that oppressive heat. And on those days, the gym gets really, really hot. Luckily, the instructor in my class keeps the fans on -- even despite being asked by one woman to turn them off because she didn't like it blowing on her. However, I heard a story of the instructor in a spinning class who, when asked to turn on the fans, informed his participants that they needed to learn to regulate their own body temperature and suck it up.  This in an un-air-conditioned room of 20 sweating cyclists when it's 100 degrees outside.