Public Pool Party

I’m spoiled; I’m from Florida. Just about everyone has their own pool in Florida, or at least in sunny South Florida where I live. I’ve never had a shortage of pool access in my life. In fact, I’ve always had an overabundance of pools to choose from. There was my pool if I wanted convenience, my friend’s pool if I wanted a Jacuzzi, my cousin’s pool if I wanted the best pool toys to play with, and the pool at my aunt’s condo if I wanted to do some lap swimming. But here in Toulon, where I am visiting my father was a few weeks, I don’t have such a luxury. Thankfully, I am in the South of France, so I can still fathom swimming outside even if it is mid-October.

I am signed up for a triathlon in a month, so I really needed to get serious about swimming. Desperate to practice my strokes, I looked up public pools in the area, and found one just around the corner from the marina. Thrilled to get in the water and start training, I headed over one afternoon with my bathing suit, swim cap, and goggles. Now, like I said, in Miami I have access to many private pools, but I must confess that I don’t have much experience in public pools. Well, besides the summer I spent with my cousins on a military base in Maryland where we spent the entirety of our days hanging out at the base pool a short bike ride away from their house. But that’s another story.

I paid my entrance fee to get in (also a weird concept, having to pay for pool time) and made my way down the corridor towards the changing rooms. The first room is a big space with lockers lined up on the walls, and after that it divides into the men and women’s sections. I had a little trouble finding my way down to the pool area from there, because I kept thinking I was walking into private men territory. The thing is, like I said in my last post, the French are quite nonchalant about nudity in general. So even though the area divides into two sections, it’s actually quite difficult to distinguish them at times because there aren’t really doors and signage is poor. Basically, the point is that they don’t really care if you see the other sex naked. Perfect example: you walk through the men’s urinals to get to the woman’s bathroom – confusing for an American used to super sex-segregated bathrooms/changing areas.

Regardless, I finally found my way to the gigantic, Olympic-sized pool and jumped in enthusiastically. The rush of the warm water around my body felt incredible; I let myself drop to the bottom, grazing the floor with my toes and then pushed myself back up to the surface with full force. Once back at the surface is when it hit me – the awful reality of swimming in a public pool. First of all, you have to share it with about a million other people! Completely unaccustomed to this concept, I kicked off the wall and started swimming down the lane. Immediately, I realized this was not going to be the walk in the park that I had envisioned (or the swim in the great, big empty lake?). There were people swimming in all directions, doing all sorts of weird strokes imaginable, at completely different speeds, and with all kinds of aquatic props. I had come with the intention of swimming at least a mile, but I could barely move forward! I had to keep looking out for oncoming swimmers, or avoiding legs kicking out from the sides. It’s a wonder that didn’t get a foot to the face!

With my goggles, I surveyed the madness of the underwater world. People wearing flippers, snorkels and masks made their way across the pool. (Snorkeling in a pool? Obviously they do not live in close proximity to the snorkeling paradise of the Florida Keys, as I do, but still, snorkeling in a pool is just wrong. Plus, they do live on the Mediterranean...) A guy was doing breast stroke – on his back rather than on his stomach. Another lady floated by me frantically paddling to stay afloat as she sat on a kickboard. One woman held onto the side of the pool, kicking her legs into the lane while wearing enormous blue flippers, threatening to kick everyone trying to pass in front of her. Now let me be clear; this wasn’t a water theme park or anything like that. This was a legitimate pool with lane lines and lifeguards and all the rest. So what the heck was going on here?

There was no order to the chaos; people did exactly as they pleased, stopping mid-lap to chat with friends or swimming across lanes completely oblivious to oncoming traffic. Every lap was a struggle, a fight to survive the crush of people all around me. Forget about finding a quiet lane and banging out my 60 laps. My plan to swim hard and train for my triathlon sank to the bottom of the pool like a dead weight. Frustrated, I decided the only thing to do was join in the madness. I plunged forward and pulled past a kickboarder to my right; then, I dodged quickly to the left to avoid an oncoming swimmer wearing a baseball cap (in the water?). It was like being in traffic on a Miami highway, slow people hogging up the left lane, people passing left and right, crazies barreling down the wrong side of the road. All you can do is keep your eyes on the road (lane) in front of you and expect the worst.

As the setting sun sank lower in the sky, the glare reflected off the water and I could barely see what was ahead in front of me. Underwater, I scanned the horizon to see what obstacles lurked in my path as I tried to keep up a good pace. But just as sun had dropped below the walls and the pool began to empty out, just as I was finally enjoying an uninterrupted lap across the pool without somebody’s flippers in my face, a whistle blew- the lifeguard’s signal to the remaining swimmers that it was time to get out. Thoroughly bewildered by the whole experience, I climbed the ladder, grabbed my towel, and walked dejectedly off the pool deck feeling like a soldier emerging from battle. I had no idea how many laps I had done or what my average time had been – but at least I had survived my first day at the public pool!