Natation et la piscine

Pardon my french but MERDE! I was almost finished with this post before the stupid internet dropped and crazy technology ghosts cursed me... and I lost the post.
I hate technology.

The first time I went to a pool was towards the end of my second month here, an aquatic center on the edge of town with Sara and Ilyess. Sara was the one that suggested it, but I think she regretted it immediately afterward. She doesn't especially like water. Especially if it is cold. Ilyess on the other hand loves the water and was very enthusiastic about the idea. So we took the tram way out to the outskirts of Lyon, took a few wrong busses and finally wound up at the aquatic center. Actually, it was a very nice pool. A very large lap pool in one room with a diving pool behind it that was closed while we were there, in the other room was a shallow pool with a a very tiny lazy river and wave pool inside it, and a jacuzzi, presumably for the parents watching their kids play. We spent quite a lot of time here playing hide and seek and tag. One of their favorite games is competing to see who can hold their breath the longest- it drove Ilyess nuts that I always won and the lifeguard yelled at us for that, and flipping off the side of the pool, and jumping off each others shoulders... I apparently get them into alot of trouble :).
I didn't swim many laps, but being back in the water felt so good, and I have been to the pool 3 days a week ever since.
In the two pools I normally swim at they just have one large (smallish actually in comparison to pools back home) lap pool, half of which is divided into three swim lanes, the other half is for free swim and usually includes lots of little kids learning how to swim.
The first time that I went to the pool I was convinced that the lanes were reserved for a swim club, and tried to swim laps in the free swim area... don't ever try it. I ran into so many squealing kids and old ladies kicking lethargically across the pool for "exercise" and had to stop at least once a lap and tred water for a moment in order to find a way through the crowd. So good if you are looking for more of a water arobics thing, awful if you are going to try to get any real swimming done.
Luckily the next time- okay okay! It was more like the 4th or 5th time that I went to the pool... but the point is that I finally noticed the nice little signs that say the lanes are reserved for swimming... for anyone. It is actually a pretty good idea, the way that they organize the pool. One lane is reserved for swimming with materials (buoys, fins, paddles, ect.), one is for breaststroke, and one is for freestyle and
backstoke.
Great concept. If I weren't the only one that followed the rules. And I promise I am the only one that can swim breaststroke anywhere near fast enough for the freestyle lane. It. Drives. Me. Nuts.
Just to be clear: I don't have anyproblem with slow people, AS LONG AS THEY STAY OUT OF MY WAY! For god's sake, I am in awful swim shape right now, I never swim sprints, and I often have to pass the same person every single lap. Backstrokers are the absolute worst... they could not actually go anywhere while on their backs if their life depended upon it.
Only good thing to come out of all this... my stroke might improve. Anyone that knows my swimming knows that I am pretty awful about not kicking (Mark, you still win this), but I have started kicking really hard whenever I pass someone in hopes that they will try to breath and water will go in their mouth so that they can literally eat my bubbles!
I am not really that mean... I'm kidding.
Kinda.

Other funny things about the pool:

I realized what guarding has done to me when, as I see kids hanging on the lanes as I swim by, I wonder how to say "no hanging on the lane-lines!" in french before I remember that is not my job anymore..

At Garibaldi you have to go up 2 sets of stairs to get to the dressing rooms, then back down another set of stairs to get to the showers, then to the pool. I have been
to this pool every Wednesday for almost two months and I always go down the wrong set of stairs and they have to tell me to go down the other stairs.

That stereotype about French guys and tiny speedos: true. ESPECIALLY for fat old men.

A la prochaine fois!
Bisous!