Fraternising with the locals

The gym I went to was loaded with A) old men B) women on treadmills who look like they could kill me C) enormously muscular yet very short Chinese men who walk around looking very silly with their chests puffed out, and who make the most incredible groans/shouts/wails as they complete their exercises. I never failed to be alarmed when, upon walking into the changing rooms, there were always 3 or 4 naked Chinese men having a chat, stretching or looking in the mirror, and by doing so were burdening me with multiple angles from which I could have the misfortune of seeing. My 7-week membership cost an outrageous amount and seemed overly high to me. Therefore, before starting my Chinese classes I spent a good 30 minutes trying to negotiate with the English-less staff, using pen, paper, a calculator and emotive gestures. Despite my best efforts, this plan failed. I got some satisfaction, however, from putting my thumbs up and doing a silly grin when they tried to photograph me for my gym ID card.
 I would get the occasional "Hello!" or wave in the street from bemused passers-by, but what entertained me more was a certain occurence that happened very often in our little, very Chinese block. I would be walking somewhere and come face to face with an elderly person, and their eyes would always suddenly go very wide with surprise. I was paranoid for my first few days there because I hadn't registered on time and had fears of expulsion, forced labour or worse, but they didn't really care in the end.
The metro is home to a flabbergasting mass of humanity, the likes of which my South of France-accustomed eyes had never seen. When changing stations, it really is an exodus and, as I will later describe, it ended up turning me into a monster.