The Beauty Salon
- Not the Salon I went to, just some pictures I took in Manila. I wonder what Keira Salon would sell if I owned it?
So I went to a salon to get my legs waxed, deciding it would be faster and less painful than doing it myself. While I waited for someone to become available they suggested a “hair spa”.
It's like a conditioning treatment I guess.
In the chair with the hairdresser we have the usual conversation about New Zealand where I explain its location and how it's not part of America, and the usual questions about my age and whether I'm married and “why not?”
Taxi-drivers, waitresses, other journalists, coconut sellers, they all use these questions as an ice-breaker. Although to be fair some people do know about NZ from Lord of the Rings and because most of their milk comes from us, they know we have lots of farmland and more cows than people.
Some can even name Fonterra and remember ex-PM Helen Clark coming over to promote it.
But not this hairdresser who cannot understand why I don't have a boyfriend. “But you are very beautiful”, he says. “Have you been too busy working hard and chasing your career?” he asks, but this is a lie I am not prepared to collude in.
Taxi-driver, hairdresser, waitress, anyone I meet, (but not Ed), what am I supposed to answer? Well my therapist says it's because of this.... my ex's say it's because of that... but I prefer to err on the side of some deep flaw in my personality?
As he's putting special serums onto my hair he keeps on tsking about how dry it is. I tell him it's because I go swimming a lot and he says to put conditioner on first, but I worry about the coral and think the effect of my sunscreen sliding off into the water is probably bad enough without adding conditioner into the ocean....
I suggest that maybe dry hair is the reason for my singleness but he doesn't “think thats the true story”.
Later as he's combing out lots of knots , I have to explain that it's because I don't really bother brushing it. He is horrified. “Brushing is the most important thing”, he says. “Maybe that's why I don't have a boyfriend”, I suggest. This time he doesn't argue.
“Once I've done your hair you will get a boyfriend”, he tells me, “maybe a Filipino one”.
“Maybe”, I reply, “they're kind of macho...” thinking of the friend who is not allowed to smile at the guards but whose husband flirts with whomever he likes...
“Not really, not once you get to know them. But anyway, after I have have finished with your hair even if you don't find a boyfriend, you will at least find a friend, I promise you.”
He asks me if I want it styled straight and is pleased when I answer yes. When it is finished he shows me in the mirror and says “straight is better” several times. From the back I could be a Filipino. Straight is fun for a change but it always makes me feel I should put on a suit, rush off to an office and start administrating. Nevertheless, after I get home from going out to dinner on the beach-front with the resort staff and take a latenight pool dip, I keep my hair out of the water....
If nothing else, from now on when people ask me why I'm single I'll be able to explain with some authority that it's because of my unruly hair.
After the “hair-spa”, the wax.... It does not start well as no wax comes out of the nozzel and the beautician kind of just scrapes my skin, like giving me a Chinese burn. I yelp and ask if she's done this before. She says twice, so I get her to turn the lamp on so she can see what she's doing and endevour to teach her how it's done, but even though she tries her best, it continues to be a disaster.
By the time she finishes, my toes are stuck together from where she absent-mindedly dropped my foot into wax, there are little bits of wax-strip stuck all over my legs, I am practically glued to the table and she inexplicably has wax in her hair.
Only one side of my leg is done, but neither of us say anything, each hoping the other won't mention it so this torture can end. She looks close to tears.
Of course, they would never dream of not charging me.
It makes sense really. If someone's service has been that bad, then they are probably not going to come back whether you charge them or not, so you may as well get the money while you can.
I wish I didn't have to pay so much for it, but in the end its just another sticky travel story, something to laugh about when you get home.
When I get back to the resort, some children are outside torturing/playing with a kitten and I yell at them. They have strong squeezy children's hands made for grabbing the things they want. They have no idea what I'm talking about so I go over and stroke the kitten with one finger saying “be gentle”.
Very gently one of the boys tries to pull the kitten's whiskers out.