My daughter Rachel loved to make fun of my laid-back teacher summers. Apparently, on the highbrow MTV show Jersey Shore, Snookie and the rest of the gals prioritized their days by using the acronym G.T.L. (for Gym, Tan, Laundry). Rachel dubbed my summer life G.T.W. (for Gym, Trader Joe's, Walk Casey). As my loyal blog readers know, my life here has a definite laid-back rhythm, reminiscent of some of my summer days as a teacher, sans the sun. However, simple errands here like going to the dry cleaner or the grocery store take a lot longer, and do double duty as opportunities to practice my Dutch and feel like a native. In my never-ending quest to integrate into Amsterdam life, I decided that joining a gym was not just a lifestyle enhancement. Rather, it would give me the chance to practice my Dutch and get to know more about what makes Dutch people tick. So, It's actually an intellectual endeavor and for research purposes, Rachel.

Joining a gym also squared with my goal of meeting and making friends (see last week's post). I have quickly realized that fitting in here quite literally meant being fit. I have seen one obese person in my travels. One. This is a nation of fit people, and I wanted to see whether being a gym rat here was any different from gym life in the U.S.

Actually, if you count this really large cat I saw in a restaurant window, that makes two obese "people" I have seen in Amsterdam. — Actually, if you count this really large cat I saw in a restaurant window, that makes two obese "people" I have seen in Amsterdam.

First stop was finding a gym. Since we are carless here (and loving that, by the way), I needed to find a place that was close by. As in next door. Sadly, that wasn't an option. However, I did find a great gym that is a brisk 10-15 minute bike ride away. So this is one clue to the mystery of how the Dutch stay so fit: all of the biking.

Here's the gym's parking lot. I'm all warmed up when I arrive. I have even winnowed down the time it takes me to lock the bike up to a minute or two. Locking up the bike used to be its own daily activity. — Here's the gym's parking lot. I'm all warmed up when I arrive. I have even winnowed down the time it takes me to lock the bike up to a minute or two. Locking up the bike used to be its own daily activity.

Many of you have asked (O.K., my mom has asked) whether I bike now that it's winter. The truth is that I was definitely a fair weather biker until recently. Then I realized that if I confined my biking expeditions to days it wasn't rainy, or windy, or snowing, I wouldn't be using my bike much at all. We recently had a string of extreme weather challenges: gusty winds, hail, even some snow. The Dutch bike through it all. I decided that I should, too. The other day, I had just started to walk with Casey when a hailstorm descended on us. This fierce warrior continued to bike as if it was nothing.

In addition to taking their biking and gym-going seriously, the Dutch are also serious about eating right (hence the many organic - biologisch - markets, and the many posh looking physical therapy - fysiopherapie - shops). Near our apartment there is a sign for Warme Therapie, which I finally googled and found out has something to do with using warm water to cure what ails you. Apparently, here you can do that in an office, rather than in your own bathtub.

It's hard to square this emphasis on health and fitness with the numbers of smokers I see. Starting in 2008, Amsterdam banned cigarette smoking in restaurants. Even in coffeeshops - places where you smoke marijuana, as opposed to cafes, where you drink coffee - you can only smoke cigarettes outside, or in a separate room if one is provided. There are clusters of folks outside of restaurants in any and all weather, puffing away. You can't help but notice the number of teenagers and young adults who smoke here (as they also seem to in other parts of Europe). Maybe that's one health issue which the U.S. leads the Netherlands in conquering.

Despite the smoking, the Dutch are now famous for being the tallest nation. According to a recent article http://www.huffingtonpost.com/randal-olson/why-are-the-dutch-so-tall_b_5544085.html, it may come down to dairy products and wealth. The Dutch weren't always this tall, even when compared to their European neighbors. But as the nation grew wealthier, the people grew taller. Another theory is that they drink a lot of milk and eat a lot of cheese. Whatever the reasons, I actually feel short here, at 5 feet, 7 inches. There is even a club here just for extremely tall people. For men, the minimum entrance height is 190 cm or 6 feet, 3 inches. For ladies, it's 180 cm or 5 feet, 11 inches. Those folks must drink a lot of milk! http://www.klublangemensen.nl/overons/wie-is-klub-lange-mensen

So let's go back inside the gym now where it's warm. And if you hit the sauna there, it's really warm. It's the first time in years, since the days at our slightly hippie-ish summer camp, I am actually stepping foot inside a sauna. I'm not alone. It's packed. I think that's because it's so damp and chilly here in the winter that everyone wants to warm up. The Dutch take their faux-summer activities seriously. There is even a tanning booth in the gym. And no, mom, I am not stepping foot inside it! I do enjoy the smoothie/coffee bar (of course we need coffee after a work out; we're in Amsterdam!). They even serve one of the most beloved Dutch culinary specialities at the bar: erwtensoep, pea soup. It's delicious: thick and filling. Again, is that what we want after a workout? Apparently, we do.

At the smoothie/coffee bar, I can practice my Dutch. In the Yzerboost smoothie, there was a mystery ingredient: tarwegras. I knew that wheat was tarwe, so I figured out that tarwegras must be wheatgrass. Bingo! To celebrate my di… — At the smoothie/coffee bar, I can practice my Dutch. In the *Yzerboost* smoothie, there was a mystery ingredient: *tarwegras.* I knew that wheat was tarwe, so I figured out that *tarwegras* must be wheatgrass. Bingo! To celebrate my discovery, I treated myself to one.

When we decided to move to Amsterdam, I was devastated that I had to give up my beloved spin classes at my N.J. gym. I am exaggerating only a tiny bit. I knew I would especially miss Mike, the best spin instuctor ever, a corporate guy in his day job, with 10.6K Twitter followers. He uses his Twitter account to post the music theme the night before class. For example, last Sunday's theme was "deflated air", which included songs with "air" in the title, or about people feeling deflated. So clever. I knew it would be tough to find a replacement for him. I didn't think that a city that relied on bikes as the primary mode of transportation would even have spinning classes. Little did I know that they are obsessed with spinning here. The daytime spin classes are almost full, and evenly populated by men and women. There is always the lingering question: what do these folks do, or not do, for a living? Is everyone, like me, on sabbatical?

I love that you have a view of Amsterdam as you spin. Sita, like most of the instructors at the gym, plays mostly American pop and rap music, but, sadly, there is no theme. However, like Mike, she is bursting with enthusiasm. And she is really … — I love that you have a view of Amsterdam as you spin. Sita, like most of the instructors at the gym, plays mostly American pop and rap music, but, sadly, there is no theme. However, like Mike, she is bursting with enthusiasm. And she is really helping me with my Dutch. She goes back and forth between English and Dutch as easily as she sprints on the spin bike. I now know how to count backwards from 10 to 1: *tien, negen, acht, zeven, ses, vijf, vier, drie, twee, een!*

This is Sanna, a zumba instructor who also teaches hip-hop in some Amsterdam schools. She, too, is bursting with enthusiasm. Kudos to her for never laughing at me or anyone else. There is something really liberating about dancing in a city where you… — This is Sanna, a zumba instructor who also teaches hip-hop in some Amsterdam schools. She, too, is bursting with enthusiasm. Kudos to her for never laughing at me or anyone else. There is something really liberating about dancing in a city where you know so few people. I don't have to worry that I will lose my job at Seth Boyden over some of the moves she has us doing.

In addition to learning how to count and order food in Dutch, I am also starting to get the hang of the metric system. I clearly remember my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Roberts, reprimanding us for not knowing how many grams in a kilogram, or meters in a kilometer. Before we knew it, she scolded, the U.S. would be using the metric system and we would be lost lambs in a metric world. Little did I know that Mrs. Roberts' words would come true, albeit 40 years later than she predicted, and not until I moved to Europe. When we first arrived, I bought enough plums for an army because I misremembered how many kilograms were close to a pound. The gym has helped. Now I know that when I want a 10 pound weight, I need the 4 kilo one. Or I can cheat and just remember the colors. Maybe to help out the other Americans at the gym, the weights are color-coded. So I can remember two orange weights equals 10 pounds (if I'm feeling lazy about remembering the metric conversion). The best part about the metric system here is that your weight is really low. How nice to weigh in at 66 kilos! It sounds so slim.

What are some of the other ways that a gym is different here? The women instructors at my gym and many of the patrons pair their fit physiques with a full face of makeup. That strikes me as odd: getting dolled up with makeup, only to then sweat it off. Also, you clean off your own spin bike here (cleanser and paper towels provided), which would never fly at my old gym in Millburn, N.J. I'm realizing the little differences I've written about in this post are not just about comparing gyms. There's a bigger theme here. As a foreigner, I am more attuned to differences. I'm on the lookout for ways in which life is different here from life in the U.S. I can't help but pay close attention to the little details that together make up a city's life. I hope I can bring that quality back with me when we return to the U.S. In the meantime, I'll just enjoy prowling for differences. I'll end with two songs I've heard at the gym: one a Dutch rap song, and the other an American pop song. Maybe the instructors at the gym play and replay No Place I'd Rather Be so the Americans will feel that way about Amsterdam, their adopted city. For now, I must say that I agree with them. There is no place I'd rather be, trying to fit in.