I saw this image in Central Park and I wasn’t quite sure if I should have been laughing or crying.
I’ve been hopping around a lot lately which made me reflect over what is it about one city or another that truly sticks with me and makes me want to come back.
In Rio, it’s the incredible nature and mix between art, architecture and music.
In NYC, it’s the vibrance of activity and diversity that let you do anything and be anyone you’d like at any time you’d like.
Boston has its intellectual allure and European flare but yet a more laid- back university/American style.
Austin reminds me of those laid back college days and family time (plus great shopping and chilling by the lake).
And finally, San Francisco, for someone who loves walking and people-watching, provides endless streets of Victorian rowhouses, each more charming then the other. Its great blend of hippie and yuppie style just puts me at ease and makes me want to meditate with a cup of Philz mojito iced coffee in my hand.
In Rio (and perhaps in the rest of Brazil), there is a really crazy gym fashion. Women wear super tight and super bright tights to the gym (think 80’s leopard, zebra and fluorescent), accompanied with knee-high soccer socks. Ridiculous. The streets of my neighborhoods are swarming with the jungle animals.
Today I went to the source of the problem, the gym.
To my greatest shame I must admit that the last time I’ve visited such an establishment was about 3 years ago, so just the mere thought of returning put shivers down my spine. However, thanks to a motivated colleague of mine, I made the leap of faith and decided to find out the rates at the local “academia” (this is how they call gym here..).
We were greeted by a local gym beauty (ok, she was not so beautiful but I was very intimidated by the overload of exercise conscience people), who took us around the facilities. The rooms were CROWDED by young and fit people, looking all tanned and motivated. It felt like an episode of Fame or Beverly Hills. They were just too perfect.
Passing by the spinning room, I became oh-so-nostalgic, missing my amazing super-fun-and-super-gay spinning instructor Carl at Crunch in NYC, who made every painful class seem like a disco party. Those were the days..
Drifting between inspiration and anxiety, I got home and stuffed myself with food (cooked by my super-maid) and set myself to make an important decision.
To be continued…