Just like Jackie

It's a funny lifestyle. Ours is a diet heavy on rice and light on cheese. Peter may have a local beer or two at dinner, but he's drinking less than he did at the pub with his friends after work. In London we spent a sizeable portion of our waking lives sitting at an office desk. Now much of our day is on the move, exploring new places on foot. When we're looking for somewhere to stay, we walk with thirteen kilos on our backs and another few on our fronts. I like feeling independent with a map and compass in a new city and everything we need in our backpacks. But although lugging our belongings around gives us strong calves and shoulders and is pretty hard work when it's hot, it's not exactly an aerobic workout.

A few weeks ago in Malaysia's Penang National Park, we went on a few very sweaty jungle treks. We swam on the Perhentian islands. In Kuala Terengganu, staying with my brother Ezra and his girlfriend Sarah, I participated in a yoga class Sarah taught. (She has cunningly renamed “downward dog” as “downward pose” to be more palatable to her Muslim class.)

But in all honesty, our efforts to exercise are few and far between. We haven't put on weight while we've been away, but I know we've lost a bit of muscle tone. Back in London, Peter and I both belonged to a gym for almost two years. It was easy to drop in on my walk home from work and I used to go about twice a week. Peter's personal trainer Srbo, put him through the wringer on a regular basis. I terminated my membership last summer to help save for this trip. Peter eventually left too and diligently went on long runs along Regent's Canal. For me however, exercising pretty much ended with my last hoola-hoop class.

Then a few days ago in Hong Kong, Jackie Chan promised to give us a much needed workout. Okay, so we didn't meet the man himself. But our muscles are still aching from our two day membership at the Jackie Chan gym in Kowloon.

Inside reception, a sign boasted a lengthy list of his various achievements. For example, in 2003 he was awarded the prestigious prize of “Best Male Butt Kicker”. Work out at his gym and who knows what you too can become.

Ready to be transformed into kung fu super stars, Peter and I slurped down freshly blended fruit juice from the gym drinks stand and marched upstairs to begin. And up and up...My goodness there were a lot of stairs. It was an unusual layout for a gym to be on seven floors. But with everyone there to exercise, no one is going to complain about stairs. Six flights of stairs? Excellent. Bring it on.

Peter and I got changed and split off to different areas. I selected “random hill” on a bike and Peter started running on a treadmill. It was hard going on that hill and I was appreciative for a bit of distraction from the Korean soap opera on one of the TVs. We first discovered these soaps in Hanoi and love the fun stories and expressive actors. This particular story was about a spirited young woman who became pregnant and sneaked extra portions of rice, not wanting her parents to find out. Fast forward a few years. The baby is now a toddler and a welcomed member of the family. The young woman is offered a much needed job and is so thrilled she looks straight at the camera and punches the air with her fists. Whoo-hoo! I'm not sure why thugs later smashed up the family's living room, but I can tell you one of the older women didn't stand for it and looked pretty threatening wildly swinging a baseball bat.

Warmed up from cycling, I completed an uncomfortable set of stretches on the hard floor before finally spotting the mats. The weight machines were easy to figure out however. Something convenient about gyms is how similar they are the world over. Some of the equipment is exactly the same and the rest close enough. The stomach cruncher at Jackie Chan's was a bit fancier than the one in London, but it made me ache in the same way. The rowing machine was identical. The only difference was my speed, which I was sorry to see had dropped significantly.

As I moved from machine to machine, Peter continued running on the treadmill, eventually notching up an impressive 12 kilometers, paradoxically without going anywhere. Treadmills are certainly the same everywhere.

The women's changing room had reassuringly familiar lockers, benches and showers. Rather than bemoaning the utter similarity of gyms around the world, as McDonalds aficionados of the globe will tell you, it's good to know what to expect. Peter sweated it out in the sauna and was struck by how they are a unique thing unto themselves. The comforting fragrance of hot wood is distinctive to saunas and a constant. Inside, you cease to be in Hong Kong, London or Helsinki. You are just in Sauna and nowhere else.

Back outside in Hong Kong, Peter and I had dim sum with my brother Ezra and his girlfriend Sarah in Maxim's at City Hall. In my experience, the idea of dim sum is generally more fun than the actual dumplings themselves. I may have been helped along a bit by the fantastic, post-gym glow, but this meal felt pretty special.

Over a shrimp dumpling, I mentioned the hilarious Korean soap. I was delighted to learn that on a treadmill on a different floor, Peter had watched the same show. We recounted our favourite moments and punched the air with our fists.

- Guilin, China