🇲🇰 North Macedonia + 🇰🇷 South Korea
By Suki Nakamura, Out of Office
Fitness culture says a lot about how a country relates to bodies, money, and free time, and this pairing is a genuinely useful contrast. North Macedonia has quietly rolled out free outdoor gym equipment across public parks in Skopje and beyond — steel pull-up bars and resistance machines bolted into pavement, open to anyone, no membership required. South Korea has built a fitness industry so intense and so aesthetically demanding that showing up to a 24-hour gym at 6am to find it already full is simply Tuesday.
I've done a genuinely solid outdoor workout on free public equipment in a Skopje park alongside pensioners doing the same routine they've done for twenty years, and I've walked into a Seoul gym where the mirrors, the lighting, and the general ambient energy made me feel personally accountable to South Korea's entire beauty standard within about four minutes. Both countries take fitness seriously. Only one of them makes you pay for the privilege of feeling inadequate about it.
🇲🇰 North Macedonia
| ✅ Do | ❌ Don't |
|---|---|
| Use the free outdoor park equipment — it's genuinely well-maintained | Expect staffed supervision; it's self-directed, bring your own knowledge |
| Join locals doing group callisthenics in parks; newcomers are welcomed | Assume gym culture is as commercialised as Western Europe — it's leaner |
| Try hiking Vodno or nearby trails as a free, popular fitness outlet | Expect 24-hour gym availability outside major cities |
| Bring your own mat or towel; outdoor equipment has none provided | Be surprised by intergenerational use — all ages train side by side |
🇰🇷 South Korea
| ✅ Do | ❌ Don't |
|---|---|
| Expect 24-hour gyms — early morning and late-night sessions are packed | Be surprised by direct comments on weight or appearance; it's more common here |
| Try a jjimjilbang (sauna house) as a genuine post-workout ritual | Assume gym-going is casual; expectations of visible effort run high |
| Book a PT session if you want the full immersive experience | Skip skin and appearance care; it's woven into fitness culture broadly |
| Respect quiet, focused gym etiquette; it's not very social by default | Wear worn-out gym kit; presentation matters more than you'd expect |
Skopje's approach to fitness is refreshingly democratic: over the past decade, municipal authorities have installed free, sturdy outdoor gym equipment across public parks throughout the city and other towns, turning ordinary green spaces into functional, no-cost training grounds. Pull-up bars, resistance machines, stretching stations — all bolted into the ground, all available to literally anyone, all maintained by the local government rather than a membership fee. It's a genuinely lovely piece of public policy, and it shows in how the parks get used: teenagers, pensioners, and everyone in between training side by side, often swapping tips or spotting each other with the easy familiarity of people who've been doing this in the same spot for years.
What's most striking to an outsider is the total absence of the self-consciousness that defines gym culture elsewhere. Nobody's filming their set for social media. Nobody's dressed for a photoshoot. It's fitness stripped down to its actual function — strength, mobility, a bit of fresh air — without the commercial or aesthetic pressure that dominates gym culture in wealthier, more consumer-driven countries. Hiking is the other major outlet, with Vodno mountain overlooking Skopje serving as the city's unofficial communal treadmill, packed with locals of all fitness levels most weekend mornings.
Commercial gyms do exist in Macedonia's cities, but they're a smaller, less central part of the fitness landscape than in most of Western Europe, and 24-hour access is rare outside Skopje. If you're used to round-the-clock gym availability, the adjustment is real — but the trade-off, free, well-used public infrastructure with genuine cross-generational buy-in, is one most countries would do well to copy.
The Morning Brief
Enjoying this? Get it in your inbox.
South Korean gym culture operates at an intensity that catches most newcomers off guard. Twenty-four-hour gyms are the norm rather than the exception, and they're genuinely busy at nearly all hours — a 6am session is as packed as a 6pm one, reflecting a broader cultural expectation that self-improvement, including physical self-improvement, is a near-constant, always-available pursuit rather than a scheduled activity squeezed into a busy week.
The harder adjustment for many expats is the directness around appearance. Comments on weight, body shape, or fitness progress — from gym staff, personal trainers, even casual acquaintances — are considerably more direct here than most Western cultures would consider appropriate, reflecting broader Korean social norms around beauty standards that are candidly, unapologetically higher-pressure than in many other countries. This isn't cruelty by local standards, it's read as helpful, actionable feedback — but it lands very differently on visitors unused to unsolicited commentary about their bodies, and forums are full of expats processing that adjustment, some more successfully than others.
The jjimjilbang — Korean sauna and bathhouse culture — provides an interesting counterbalance: a genuinely communal, multi-generational, distinctly unglamorous ritual of steam rooms, cold pools, and shared relaxation space that exists in real tension with the high-pressure gym aesthetic elsewhere. It's arguably where Korean body culture is at its most relaxed and inclusive, a useful reminder that the intensity isn't the whole story, just the loudest part of it.
North Macedonia treats fitness as a public good, stripped of aesthetic pressure and commercial gatekeeping. South Korea treats fitness as a near-constant, high-stakes aesthetic project, backed by genuinely impressive infrastructure and genuinely exhausting social pressure. If you want to work out without anyone judging your form, your outfit, or your body, Skopje's parks will let you do that for free, forever. If you want state-of-the-art 24-hour facilities and don't mind unsolicited feedback on your love handles, Seoul delivers, intensely, whether you asked for the intensity or not.
Reddit r/македонија — paraphrased: an 70-year-old man at the park gym corrected my pull-up form without being asked, then went on to do triple what I managed.
Internations Seoul — paraphrased: my gym's front desk staff commented on my weight loss unprompted within my first month, meant as encouragement, landed as mildly alarming.
Quora — "Why is my Seoul gym packed at 5:45am on a Tuesday?" — paraphrased: because everyone else also has a full workday ahead and this is simply when it gets done here.
Fitness culture, it turns out, is never really about the equipment — it's about what a country believes bodies are for. North Macedonia has decided they're for public, communal use, and built free infrastructure to match, judgment largely absent. South Korea has decided they're an ongoing aesthetic project requiring near-constant maintenance, and built an entire around-the-clock industry, plus a running commentary, to match. Choose the free park bars if you want to sweat in peace. Choose the 24-hour Seoul gym if you want results and don't mind hearing about your progress from strangers before you've asked.
Subscriber Only
Subscribe to The Alignment Times and get every article delivered to your inbox.
Photo by Zülfü Demir📸 via Pexels
Suki Nakamura
Staff writer covering financial markets and corporate strategy. Has strong opinions about spreadsheets.