Steamin' 'n' Eatin'

After my swimming practice (OK, sinking-'n'-spluttering practice) at the Richmond Recreation Centre this afternoon, I cycled down to the Richmond Fitness First and did my legs workout in the gym. In this way I completely avoided the running of the Melbourne Cup... :) Afterwards, feeling quite tired, and before showering, I sat in the steam room and relaxed - or tried to. It's very hot in there! It went through a period of being a tepidarium, but now the thermostat seems to be permanently high and it's a challenge to stay there for very long. I haven't happened upon any corpses yet, but it remains to be seen if there will be heart attacks.

Because the steam room is in the male changing room (I guess the women have one too) occasionally you get guys using it - shock! horror! - without clothes. This still seems odd, in a western/anglo context, though it shouldn't - after all everyone's getting changed immediately outside and taking their clothes off. But some men still act as if they're at the beach, putting their towel around themselves before gingerly removing their pants, sometimes quite awkwardly and with great difficulty. On the other hand, you don't seem to get any great exhibitionists either (well, at least not when I've been there!). It tends to be quite workaday and busnesslike. Not like the Sydney FF changerooms, if the tabloids are to be trusted...

Today there weren't any nudies, but it did get reasonably full. And that showed up another interesting aspect of steamroom etiquette (it seems): no talking. Maybe it's just the demographic at the Richmond gym, but there seems to be no way of striking up a conversation in the steam room. When I was living in London 3 years ago it seemed to be very easy to get talking in the gym steam room and sauna; though the steam room was perhaps more chatty, perhaps because the steam tends to stop people looking each other in the eye...?

MInd you, two days ago in the FF St Kilda steam room I did get chatted up by a guy, quite unexpectely and unlookedfor. It was very flattering and, in my newly-single state, reassuring. Um, I did though put the thought that possibly he's just a serial sleazebag out of my mind completely. But I can reassure the Sydney tabloids that this is the first time it's happened in 11 years of hanging about in gym changing rooms!

Afterwards I dragged my exhausted body down the road to Pearl, for an early dinner. Lovely (deconstructed gormet "steak sandwich"). But what gives with all the stuff in the bill folder? Not just the receipt and their card, but also: an advert for a fundraising charity dinner ($225 per seat, ouch - but you can get tables of 10 for $2,250 - bargain), an advert for another charity fundraising dinner (only $195 per seat), another bit of flotsam and jetsam that I forget, and, finally and mysteriously, a little envelope containing six colour cards of (signature?) Pearl dishes. ?? At least I know what "scallop custard with marrons, caramelised apple, asparagus puree, kellybrook cider, butter sauce and crab roe salt" looks like now. Perhaps it's the beginning of a trend towards high-end restaurants having point-to-the-picture menus like South-East Asian cafes.