Métro Boulot Dodo

One of my favorite phrases that M. Richardson taught us in High School French was “métro, boulot, dodo.” It basically means, “I take the metro, I go to work, I go to bed.” It’s a way of answering “how’s it going” in the style of “same old, same old.” But with a bit of a nod to the tendency towards banality in our every day living if we aren’t careful.

Anyways, today was our first day back at work since we got here. AKA, the start of our new normal.

Work was pretty much the same, with the added challenge of working from the least ergonomic setup possible and being 6-9 hours offset from a lot of the folks that I work with. I’ve already had my first 9pm meeting, but it honestly wasn’t too bad. I slept in a bit, then I had a nice, long stretch of uninterrupted focus time. I had a few hours of overlap with my coworkers, and then I took off for a lyra class (more on that in a bit), had dinner with my family, and then I took my meeting. I’ll need to be cognizant of not burning my candle at both ends, but I’m not mad at having a day where I was super productive but still time to do the things that I enjoy.

The one big thing I did today was to take a lyra (aerial hoop) class at a studio here. I’ve been doing lyra for about 3 years now, but I have definitely never done it in french! The teacher told me that she speaks english like a “vache espagnole” (spanish cow), but she did an excellent job of demonstrating, so I never felt lost. It definitely helped that I started with an introductory course, so we were working on moves that I already know. We still said hello to the top bar, though!

I’m not going to lie, I was terrified to go! What if they were resentful of having an english speaker in their class? (I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we don’t always have the best reputation around the world these days). What if the French turned out to be aerial super humans and I felt like an American weakling in class? What if they had shitty crash mats?

At one point, while I was standing on the tram platform trying to figure out if I was waiting in the right place, I had fleeting thoughts of saying “eff it, I’m running late… I’ll just pay the no-show fee and go home.” Thankfully, that’s when the tram showed up and I was able to tell myself I was being silly.

Of course, me being me, after I passed the 5th funeral home on the walk from the tram to the studio, I texted Kristian “I hope it’s not a bad sign that I’m apparently walking through the funeral district.” His reply? “People are just dying to get into that class.”

I made it to class just as they were finishing up introductions, so I didn’t have to worry about walking in mid-warmup. Everyone was really kind. The hoops were all hung low, to make it easy for everyone to get up into them (a surefire sign that an entry-level class is aimed at people who are actually entry level). I even learned a few new vocab words! (of course, now I can’t remember any of them). I left class feeling that amazing combination of strong, tired, and bursting with endorphins. I’m so glad that I decided to go.

Oh, and the crash mats were about 4 inches thick and covered the entire surface where the lyras were hung. I’ve had better, but I’ve definitely had worse.

I’m signed up for another class at a different studio on Friday. Wish me luck that it goes just as well!