Cars, dirt and drunks

Yesterday, after 6 months of hard crusty black dirt, about 3 cm thick all over my car, I decided it was time to remove its winter shell of dirt and give it a good clean. Like many, I live in a flat, so cleaning a car is not much fun. I had to go up an down in the lift several times with buckets of soapy water. Russians passing outside, looked at me as if I had just escaped the local mental hospital. God only knows how Russians clean their cars here? I have seen just one car wash facility here in Moscow since I arrived last September.

As is my luck goes, as I was going to the car for its first wipe clean, when a drunk arrived outside our flat crawling towards my car. Now I have been drunk a few, many times in my life, but this man was so drunk he was crawling along the road like a baby, his trousers were half off and he looked more pickled than a pickle. He wore glasses, although both the lenses were missing, presumably smashed while he was drunk. He kept talking to me from his position on the floor in a very slurred Russian. He had wet himself and had blood all over his cheek, from his continued failed attempts to stand up. He stank of a Vodka factory and I have to say of urine. I ignored him as best I could and continued to clean my black car, slowly wiping away its black shell. It was amazing to slowly see its colour appear through the black, like blue a sky through the clouds. I had almost forgotten its original colour. After several tips up and down with more buckets and with just a tiny washing up sponge, the job was eventually done.

I enjoyed it and it was exciting, as you can see, my life here is rather very dull. After I had finished admiring my work, I turned my attention to the drunk. I tried to find a person to help him or to call the city Police and one women attempted to ask him where he lived but got know where in her communication attempts. When I went back down stairs twenty minutes later to see if he was still there, he had just disappeared, all that remained was a single unopened beer can.

Today, after my hard cleaning efforts, its snowed again and so my car is now buried under new snow. This may explain the strange looks I got from the Russians while I cleaned my car. They knew something I did not! You live and learn.