Our apartment here in Subic is awesome. The three of us, Lucie Z., Abi B. and I are all getting along great, and managing some laughs between our training and our endless bowls of cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Abi chef’s it up once in a while, and cooks up a great smelling dinner or lunch, but Lucie and I have barely used the microwave oven.
Abi and I did engineer a highly technical, very intricate clothing drying system, known as the clothes line. On our balcony, we rigged up two chairs, and wire of sorts, and now have a place for the sweaty workout clothes! Yipeee. If you have ever had to stay with a triathlete in a hotel room for a race, you know how a small space can quickly fill with bike clothes, dirty shoes, and sweaty shirts.
Now, it has been getting hotter and hotter, more and more humid, and thus we are sweating more and more. So it seems we spend more time showering. One of the boys (lets call him Mr M. ) has a knack for coming to visit whenever one of us is wearing a towel (usually me). He must think that we are running a nudist colony up in our place, but instead, it is just that our clothing is always drying out on the balcony.