I was born in the heart of the Po Valley. I lived here a good part of my life. I know a lot about humidity. Misty, cold wet feeling in the bones in the winter, sticky feeling and mosquitoes in the summer. All this training done at a young age, however, has not prepared me enough to face the Humidity Olympics: living in Asia.
For example, when I return home in the evening and the air conditioning has been switched off all day, the wooden floor is soaked in condensation that my feet slips off and I end up with my ass on the floor.
The mosquitoes are not too annoying, here are great giant cockroaches that jump out of the siphons of the sink as handfuls of licorice pulled to children.
The lining of bags if it is not ventilated at least once a week makes mold. You understood well, mold. Leather shoes make mold, even if you ventilate them. Wool sweaters smell rotten, not even camphor saves them. Before going to sleep I have to remove the bedspread and turn on the air conditioning, if not the mattress remains wet and the night is more like a swim in the pool than a good night’s sleep. The frames of the paintings swell laterally, practically becoming ovals. The cartilage of my knees scream pity every morning, the cervical … the cervical, I cannot even describe it.
When the typhoons arrive then the humidity doubles, there is water everywhere, below, above, inside. Basically, it turns you into soggy, soggy snails.
My curly hair.
Now my biggest problem, it will seem strange, it is not the hair but the dehydration, because I do not drink. I know I know we women should drink two liters of water a day and blah blah blah but I do not drink. I feel nauseous if I drink too much, I spend the day sitting on the toilet, if I sneeze I piss on my panties. The truth is: I always forget to drink. Not even the horrible threat of cellulitis has ever convinced me to drink. This has never been a big problem because I do not sweat and therefore I do not lose too many liquids. But here obviously I sweat, a lot. The face is always beautiful bright as if it were full of glitter and the armpit requires special attention. The strange thing that happens to me sometimes is that I cannot move my legs anymore, my muscles refuse to work and I have to lie on the couch and drink a glass of water every 10 minutes for 3 hours (doctor’s order) until my metabolism starts working again (even if my legs hurt me for three days in a row). After the semi-paralysis I frighten and drink like a camel for a month and then I forget, again.
Last week I was in my very personal drought time and halfway through a pretty tough power yoga class, I fainted in a pool of sweat (mine).
But guys, the plants are beautiful.