I've had a...visual...week. In the spirit of decency I will not be posting pictures of my last couple of days. I believe a description will more than suffice. Also, I will attempt to relate my experiences with the sensitivity and dignity that each situation demands.
It began yesterday. I ranted previously about my bad pedicure but have been much too busy to do anything about it. Finally, yesterday I realized I had an entire afternoon free, so of course, I instructed Jasim to get me to a salon asap!
It's a nice salon frequented almost exclusively by locals but as many of you know, I've always been a little obtuse about worrying whether I might or might not fit in and so just go merrily about my business wherever the winds take me.
I approached the reception desk, requested a manicure/pedicure and was ushered back to a small room with six black vinyl chairs, each with a small chrome and glass table in front of it. There were three chairs on either side of the room facing towards the middle where the technicians busily worked massaging and trimming, cleaning and coloring. I know that they do a lovely job massaging hands and feet and was looking forward to a relaxing hour.
As one of the technicians ushered me towards a chair, I sat down, busily organizing my water bottle and purse and generally getting settled in. It wasn't until I sat back in my chair that I saw..."it"...
There, directly across the room from me, sat a woman in one of the spas black cotton wraps. She looked relaxed and content as they colored her hair and applied some sort of a treatment to her face, neck and shoulders. This alone would have caused me no consternation, but as I sat back and lowered my gaze, I came face to face with..."it".
I have no way of saying this gracefully. Shall we just say that as I sat back in my chair I found my gaze level with her...let's just call it her "woman-ness...her business"...feel free to fill in whatever metaphor you feel comfortable with, the point is I was suddenly most UN-comfortable. I know...I'm old, I'm in a different country, a different culture. I found myself pondering my awkward situation. Is staring into another woman's...you know...normal here? No one else seemed bothered by it. Am I just out of touch?? She shifted slightly and the view was momentarily obscured. I breathed a sigh of relief but she shifted again and my view was clearer than ever. She waxes. Just sayin'.
I know discretion and good taste dictated that I simply look away. I swear, I tried. I buried my face in my iPhone until the manicurist demanded my hand. Haven't you ever seen something so shocking that you genuinely had no desire to see it, but you just couldn't look away? This was just such an occasion. I sat there for the longest forty five minutes of my recent life. Fortunately I eventually became distracted by an excellent hand massage, but it was too late. The image is permanently imprinted on my brain. If I discover that I am just being prudish, I promise to mend my ways.
I had another experience today that I would rather not have had. It is of a more somber nature so please realize my sympathy and compassion did outweigh my discomfort, but none-the-less, it was...awkward.
My friend Amanda and I were coming back from delivering Thrive lunches in Korail and had just entered Gulshan Circle. It is a giant roundabout. If you are British or in any other way acquainted with roundabouts, just thing if it as a living entity and in this case, think of it as a living entity high on meth, that is Gulshan Circle.
Amanda and I were sitting in the back seat having a pleasant conversation when I heard a tap on the window. This is not uncommon as beggars regularly weave in and out of traffic attempting to solicit donations. I tried to ignored the sound but the tapping persisted. Finally, I relented and turned towards the window only to find myself yet again, staring at someones privates. Briefly overcome, I just stared in silence. Fortunately, on this occasion it was only a full length photograph of a teenage boy! The distinguishing characteristic of this poor boy was abnormally enormous testicles. Really enormous!
I looked up from the disturbing image and met with the face of a woman who I realized to my horror, was standing next to the very boy in the picture. she was insistently pointing from the boy to the picture and then down to the boys...jeans, indicating that he was, in fact, that boy. I felt a tidal wave of empathy for the boy whom I'm certain was in far worse distress than I was both mentally and physically. Unfortunately traffic was chaotic and the circle filled with beggars. When it's like that, opening your window to give money is an open invitation to a riot so I did not feel comfortable giving them anything. I will look for him in future and try to give him some money and hope that they spend it on medical assistance.
I do not mention his story as an opportunity to mock, but truly, I would be happy if I don't see anyone else's business for quite some time!
I promise you that I am not trying to be indelicate but two days in a row!? I'm just a little traumatized and writing is my therapy. With that, I leave you for now. I need to scrub sand in my eyes.
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