Contents of new fridge: nutella, make up and 1/8 bottle of wine. Hallmarks of a single woman ; )
In my three week absence from Delhi the temperature has dropped but the humidity has skyrocketed. So, while it is wonderful applying serums, moisturizers and lipsticks that have been cooling in a refrigerator, by the time I get home they are sliding off my face into puddles on the floor. By 6pm I have a face that you could fry chips in and not infrequently, feet covered in black mud/something that looks like it belongs in a sewer. Oh yes. I’m gorgeous, or at least I must be because when I went for a facial to exterminate the oil, the girl pulled my robe open, bra straps down and started massaging goo into my breasts [is that normal?]
Last week I finally moved into my apartment. Not that you’d know, I’ve barely spoken to anyone since I landed. I arrived in my new home at 2am to smells of cigarettes and bodies (alive or dead I’m not sure). Thus ensued a 4 day battle of fury involving bleach, cilit-bang, cream cleaner, washing powder and shopping. I cleaned wardrobes, pillows, mattresses, insides of cupboards, floors, toilet, you name it, it got zapped. I had assumed –wrongly- it was either the landlord or my employers duty to ensure the cleanliness before I moved in. Apparently not. Bad surprise. Good surprise was the fact I didn’t get sick drinking the tapwater (hey 2am there was nothing else available after my ten hour flight!)
Cleaning done I then spent the GDP of a small African nation on sheets, curtains, cushions and upholstery.
Finally my apartment is presentable and – dare I say it, sort of almost nice. The only dirty smelly thing round here now is me.
