Friends at the City Pool

For some reason, the swimming pool seems to make people really friendly.  Of the five or six times that a stranger has spoken to me in English since I've been in Japan, four or five of these times have been in the four visits I've made to the city pool.  Not only this, but the people that we've met at the pool seem very interested in exchanging names, coming to concerts, learning more English.  It may also be my very friendly swimming mate who brings out the best in the Japanese people, but whatever the reason, it's become an added plus to making the 10 minute bike ride to the pool.  Between 6:30 and 8:30, one can swim for a 400 yen admission.  Included in the price are the loan of some classy green plastic slippers (which one may opt to forgo), a free shower and use of the blow dryer, and priceless exchanges in locker rooms and shared lanes.  Perhaps the winner thus far was Aoki's Argentine tango dancing as she dried her hair last Thursday.  She mentioned that she came on Sundays (nichiyoubi) as well and we wondered if we'd see her again.  This evening she happened to be right behind me in my lane and when I came to the end and paused, she stood up next to me with a huge grin, "Andorea!"  I echoed the sentiment, "Aoki!"  She reached out both hands and held mine between them.  It was as though we were best friends, reunited after a long war.

What brings this warmth to some Japanese people?  Their excitement and sincerity is contagious and beautiful.  And I wonder how often it lives in those that don't express it, or if there is a reason that certain places engender that feeling more than others.  Is it the shared water or shared skin?  Or is it just the shared lift in time that a leisurely activity brings, inspiring small talk and pursuant curiosity?

For 400 yen, I'll take it.  Nichiyoubi, mokuyoubi, any youbi.