On most days each week I go to the gym. In London it has been my after-breakfast routine for around ten years; in Tréguennec, my visits only started this summer. Importantly, getting to the gym in London involves a twenty-minute walk, while in Tréguennec each trip is a little shorter as I drive through the countryside to the gym in Plonéour, a town nearby. 

Over the years the exercises have changed as different parts of my body have required particular attention. However, at the moment, the exercises I do in both countries are similar as I concentrate on improving a particularly troublesome left knee. This blog is about my gym visits in the two countries, but rather than addressing mechanical issues such as the exercises I do or the apparatus available in both places, it is about the different feelings and observations that have arisen on my visits each day.

First, what I see on the journeys to and from the two gyms brings feelings that are very different, but equally pleasant. In London, I love my walk as it takes me along the side of Richmond Green where the layout of its trees, houses and lawn has changed little for at least three hundred years with some elements dating from earlier. Added to this pleasure there is the amusement I get from watching the umpteen dogs and their owners – I often try to count them – as they run or walk on the Green itself. 

In France, my London experiences have been replaced by scenes that also give me great pleasure. Oak trees, which I love dearly, grow all over the local countryside, and on one part of my journey, I drive through a wonderful oak ‘tunnel’ formed by the canopy of overarching oak branches. That the road and the trees could well be over two hundred years old gives me added pleasure. 

And in France, the Richmond Green dogs are replaced by the four goats that I see in a field – more a large paddock – that I drive past each day. Their pen has obviously been specially ‘landscaped’ as it includes large rocks and various ‘standing stones’ on which they can climb. Seeing them perched precariously each morning is always amusing. And their owner’s explanation for their behaviour makes me giggle – apparently, his goats climb up on the stones because ‘they don’t like having cold feet’! 

Now to my observations on gym ‘cultures’ which are so very different in France and England. In both countries, people can only use the gym if they are season-ticket holders who, when using the gym, behave ‘hygienically’ and in such a way that respects the needs and wishes of others. The rules, however, make no mention of everyday gym culture and in this the differences are enormous.

In London, gym life seems dominated by silence with very little place for communication. Indeed, if left to their own devices, conversations amongst  participants are rare. I should add that in such an environment, as a chatterer and a sociable one at that, I stand out. In time – albeit years – relationships often develop. 

How different it is in France. While privacy is respected, silence is rare, as  meeting others is without fail accompanied by the equivalent of a ‘Good morning’ or ‘How are you?’, and leaving by a ‘Good bye’ or ‘See you soon’. Then, for those with whom acquaintance has developed, greetings each day are usually accompanied for men by hand shakes or a fist bump (see illustration), and for women a kiss. Here is a real community, and in France touching one another is very much part of the culture. In keeping, when I got my first fist bump I knew that I had been accepted as ‘family’. 

Consistent with French culture generally, where fashion conformity is de rigueur, gym members appear to have adopted a uniform. Almost everyone wears black, which for men takes the form of black shorts and vests and for women, black shorts or leggings and crop tops. Interestingly, for the men anyway, the uniform does not stop at their outer wear. In the changing-room, almost without exception, the men wear black underpants. In London, in keeping with a traditional English disinterest in fashion, there is no such uniformity!

Going to the gym in France has been a fascinating experience. The welcoming warmth that people showed towards one another – and towards me – has been a real pleasure. Interestingly, in the gym in Plonéour, for one group of men in their sixties and seventies the gym clearly acts as a community centre – and why not!

The illustration shows two gym ‘buddies’ in France greeting one another with a traditional ‘fist bump’.

For helping me write this blog, I would like to thank Adrien, Julien, Ondine, Louis, Erwan, Jeni, Rohan and Vivien.