Monday, September 10, 2007


I was a swimmer since I was a kid. When I was about...five I guess...I started taking swimming lessons from an Olympic medalist who, being an un-PC Commie would haul us out of the water and spank us if we didn't follow instructions. This didn't exactly endear us to him but we learned to swim anyway.

My swimming days ended in high school. H.S. was in a small, very orderly town which sandwiched the school between a mental hospital and a cemetery, thus completing the circle of life. One day, a gent who was midway between the school and the cemetery urged me, through unintelligent mumbles, to remain undressed in the locker room and join him (he was also undressed) in the shower. During this encounter his mumbles were joined by more physical, if blessedly uncoordinated overtures. I relayed this to the management and pretty much stopped swimming altogether until about this summer (oh 12 years on- cuz I'm stubborn).

However, back in Budapest I could not resist the lure of Margaret Island and the Hajos Alfred swimming pool. An outdoor pool within sight of the Buda shore, it was populated by fetching pre-geriatrics (some of whom, in a sad testament to undeserved material wealth, bulged wayyy out of their itsy bitsy yellow polka dot bikinis)and served as a reminder of the many many benefits of exercise.

Transition to the Bayou. A beautiful, warm, clean (!) outdoor swimming pool. True, it's almost never actually open, but is sure nice to look at. Yes it is.

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