The Physical Effect

The sedentary cubicle life, delicious Indian buttery curries, and general poor health standards of my environment are catching up with me.

Today, on the rowing machine at the gym (a machine which brutally measures and calculates every once of effort you put in and can get out), I had my moment of epiphany. Based on the comparison of the current time it takes to finish 500 meters versus back in the day... I can determine that I can no longer be qualified as “athletic.”

To make matters worse, I was coughing up a lung today. I will attribute this, and all other respiratory problems (burning throat, wheezing/sneezing), to the atrocious air quality on my daily commute.

It doesn’t feel good.

The athletic thing is fixable. (Probably.) The fact that I inhale a few gallons worth of noxious fumes complemented with gritty pavement dust, is not. Neither is the fact that the national cuisine is entirely based on large quantities of oil/sugar/butter.

The story from a couple weeks ago regarding the “pollution in the face” occurred as I was crossing the street to catch the bus. I was caught in the middle of the road, between two lanes of traffic, dodging dump trucks and motorcycles. Then a bus came tearing around the bend.

The thing to remember here, is that when the little old ladies who sweep the road with a homemade broom of twigs come by to gather the dust/debris off the main road, they sweep it into the curb and along the median.

So, a bus is coming directly at me, kicking up pavement particles and spewing grey-brown clouds of exhaust in its wake. I know I can’t jump in front of it and leap to the other side to avoid its grossness because A) generally not safe B) the driver may very well speed up.

In the following seconds the bus swung by me, teetering on 2.7 of its wheels, and within those few seconds, the rickety bus hurled 1. the dirt piles the ladies swept up 2. steamy black fumes 3. sharp pebbles from the pavement 4. a mixture of discarded chewed up food bits from the nearby snack stand, all over me. The hot, sticky concoction of the road traveled up around my legs, through my white skirt, in my hair, and of course, in my mouth/nose/ears/eyes.

It was a long bus ride.

In other news, I finally figured out that monkeys can indeed crawl in between the monkey bars on my balconies. (there are steel rods crisscrossing the entire outdoor areas from floor to ceiling). Only the young ones can fit through, which makes me believe it may be some kind of simian hazing...