Speaking of…●10

… morning routines:

I live in a building constructed in maybe the 1930-40s, as many of the houses in my part of town. I love my apartment, with it’s roomy feel and big kitchen.
It has one big flaw though. The door. It’s thin, which makes it sort of a sounding-board out into the stairwell, and many sounds grow loud and resounding, which gives you a more private relationship with your neighbours than you might wish for.

My next door neighbour is an interesting existence. Looks sort of scary, but is very giving and considerate in a way. He was hospitalised this summer for double-sided pneumonia and came home rather worried. He’s a heavy smoker, and the doctor had given him some sort of verdict that he wouldn’t share, he just told me that it’s serious.

Since then, his smokers’ morning coughs have transformed into vomit. With screams. He knows we can hear him, and he apologised with “I assume you’ve heard me in the mornings”… I asked him what the doctors say about it, and he tells me they say its psychological.

My only guess then is that its fear of death that makes him howl in the bathroom on the other side of my bedroom wall, every morning at 06:15.

It can never be a good way to start a day.

ps ...

...we blogged into the new year!

Cheers to the new year!

The new year view in Sydney, 1 Jan '09

Speaking of … ☼9

... pulling out good surprises

The other morning in the bathroom, I surprised myself! :-) I suddenly remembered bathing in Calcutta. And then I remembered that I'd kept it in my back pocket for a time like right now - when I've woken up tired almost every morning from the end of last year and so far into this one. I've had nightmares almost every night, one after the other, I'm sort of impressed with the variety and sheer numbers, but also just very tired. So this morning, I got out a small bucket, made a note to buy a large cup with a handle, stepped into the shower and remembered waking up in Calcutta...

Last year in our hotel in Calcutta, we called for a bucket of hot water once but it never came. So we looked out the window. Four floors down on the roadside is a popular public tap. It was winter but still from maybe 5 in the morning people gathered outside and it becomes a bathing and car-washing pitstop. Men of all sizes, wearing either just undershorts or longhis (like a sarong) bathe. People squat or stand, there are many techniques.

S adopted the soap all over then sharp, quick, cold rinse under running water. I went for the soap one bit then splash, pour and rub vigorously with both hands until shiny and slightly warmed. At home I leave the shower feeling warm and relaxed. Here I jumped out ready to scrub down a taxi.

...and it worked! I don't know if it was the squatting, the scrubbing piece-by-piece, the shiny skin or the weight of a full bucket of water crashing on my head at the end – but a quick holiday in my bathroom one morning worked wonders.