Belgrade: Soviet Yugoslavians and Sorbet
At some point after arriving in Belgrade my back started hurting, probably from moving and then lugging
60 lbs of bags to and around Europe. So a few days later I went to a gym that had pilates
so I could get some low impact exercise. In my first
class I learned that although Yugoslavian communism was different from
the Soviet style, Serbia still embodies the spirit of the gulag.
In the first ten minutes all we did were lunges - non-stop lunges. There were no water breaks and no modifications. You did exactly what the comrade - I mean instructor - told you to do exactly the way she told you to do it. But I survived and was even able to get my multiple miles of walking in the next day despite the fact that my muscles were not really functioning.
The problem with this gym, however, is that it's right around the corner from a place with excellent dark chocolate sorbet (see photo below of me more excitedly hoisting my sorbet than I would the actual olympic torch). So naturally I reward myself with a small sorbet after every class. But the nice thing about being in such a convenient part of Belgrade so far is that I haven't really felt like I needed to worry so much about what I eat you know with all the walking. Plus the gulag pilates.
Additionally, somewhere during my period of whole body muscle failure I realized that I had learned how to carry out at least basic transactions in Belgrade. Despite the widespread English spoken in the city I still encountered some non-English speakers and even with them I could cobble together a mostly fruitful interaction using the no more than four words I knew and sign language, even successfully finding the correct amount of currency to give them in under five minutes.
It's hard - even with modern technology and a whole program of assistance - to orient yourself in another country so small feats like ordering the right item amount to a feeling of success. In walking all over Belgrade I interact with more people than normal, I use my own God-given form of transportation to get myself around, and I feel real sunshine and air. This experience has definitely helped me enjoy some of the things that my sedentary, repetitive lifestyle had deprived me of.
In the first ten minutes all we did were lunges - non-stop lunges. There were no water breaks and no modifications. You did exactly what the comrade - I mean instructor - told you to do exactly the way she told you to do it. But I survived and was even able to get my multiple miles of walking in the next day despite the fact that my muscles were not really functioning.
The problem with this gym, however, is that it's right around the corner from a place with excellent dark chocolate sorbet (see photo below of me more excitedly hoisting my sorbet than I would the actual olympic torch). So naturally I reward myself with a small sorbet after every class. But the nice thing about being in such a convenient part of Belgrade so far is that I haven't really felt like I needed to worry so much about what I eat you know with all the walking. Plus the gulag pilates.
Additionally, somewhere during my period of whole body muscle failure I realized that I had learned how to carry out at least basic transactions in Belgrade. Despite the widespread English spoken in the city I still encountered some non-English speakers and even with them I could cobble together a mostly fruitful interaction using the no more than four words I knew and sign language, even successfully finding the correct amount of currency to give them in under five minutes.
It's hard - even with modern technology and a whole program of assistance - to orient yourself in another country so small feats like ordering the right item amount to a feeling of success. In walking all over Belgrade I interact with more people than normal, I use my own God-given form of transportation to get myself around, and I feel real sunshine and air. This experience has definitely helped me enjoy some of the things that my sedentary, repetitive lifestyle had deprived me of.
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