Acqua Zumba

The rain can fall, the door can stay in the river, the boat can sink I don't care I’m going away for the next couple of weeks if this blog has any entries it will be about the trip to South America not about mud and water and living in the cold.

Firstly I need to get fit.  Urgently.  I’m flying into Ecuador and going for a trek in the Amazon.  Friends tell me I have left my campaign to lose weight and get fit rather late. They could be right.  

So I go to an Aqua Zumba class in Thrapston it consists of a swimming pool full of ladies of varying shapes and sizes, all old enough to know better, standing chest high in chlorinated water waving their arms while trying to keep time to the loud music and an energetic instructor prancing about on the side of the pool. 

I hate exercise classes but have decided that an aqua exercise class might be bearable. Underwater you can’t hear the muscles scream, you can’t see the flab wobble and most importantly nobody can see that your legs aren’t actually pumping up and down. All I need to do is make a few splashes on the surface of the pool and it will appear that my lower limbs are thrashing about energetically. 

The class starts with salsa music: we all thrust our arms high in the air, move to the left, twirl around a bit, bend our knees. My left arm aches where I have had the typhoid injection.  That is one of the problems of travel to out of the way places, the need for a copious amounts of injections. I have signed the form saying I am aware of the side effects of the yellow fever injection the most serious of which is death.

The music changes to an Elvis Presley number, we have to jump up and down and clap our hands above our heads.  I’m not really sure what Zumba is but I had the vague idea it was salsaish and not rock and roll but never mind a bit of jumping up and down is good for me.  I jump and clap and try to make a decision about malaria treatment.  The last time I took anti- malaria tablets they made me feel ill, so much so that I decided that a dose of malaria must be preferable to the preventive side effects of the medicine and I stopped taking it.  I’d avoid those tablets if I could remember what they were but as I can’t I’ll probably take them again and spend most of the holiday feeling nauseous. I’ve got industrious quantities of Deet to spray on clothes, to rub on skin and impregnate mosquito nets with.  I’ve got walking boots and socks and long trousers and shirts that button from wrist to neck all treated with repellent.  I dare any mosquito to get within biting distance of me.

The music is now a song with an Arabic feel.  It seems we have to gyrate in a belly dancerish sort of way while twisting hands and arms skywards.  Hips must be wriggled enthusiastically, that’s OK my hips are under water so the instructor can’t see that my nether regions are less than enthusiastic.  When I leave I’ll go into the pharmacist to see if they have any high factor suntan lotion.  I’m flying into Quito which is 2,800 metres above sea level and I’m told that the UV factor is strong because of the altitude and I’ll need suntan lotion and sunglasses. I’m concerned about altitude sickness, my daughter who suffered from altitude sickness when flying into Bogota recommends coco tea.  I wonder if the Co-op in Thrapston sells coco tea.  I’ll also need warm clothing because I’ve looked at the weather forecast and at the moment Quito has a high of 16 degrees during the day and a low of 6 degrees during the night and it’s raining heavily so I need wet weather gear as well.

The music is back to high tempo salsa, we’re shimmying from left to right, although I’ve got it a bit wrong and I’m shimmying from right to left which is causing confusion amongst the ladies in my line.  I look at the clock, only five minutes to go and then I can escape and continue planning for my holiday. We’re having a mild winter and the temperature in Devon is not much less than the temperature in Quito and at the moment it isn’t raining in Devon.  Maybe I should forget exotic travel and just go to Devon for three weeks.  I wouldn’t need injections that could kill me or tablets that make me sick.  I wouldn’t need suntan lotion, sunglasses, sprays against mosquitos and remedies for diarrhoea and dodgy stomachs and altitude sickness. I wouldn’t be in danger of getting malaria or dengue fever or yellow fever.  I doubt if I need to worry about poisonous snakes or alligators or piranha fish in Torquay. I wouldn’t need expensive health insurance that includes repatriation. And best of all I wouldn’t have to come to this bloody exercise class to try and get fit enough for a trek in the jungle.