anecdotes of today

Another weekend gone. Never long enough. At least today's weather was better, although freezing cold.

Had my nails done while Cerise watched. I told her I was gonna go for colour red this time and she could pick the shade. She loves it when I bounce off ideas with her and I value her opinion. It always amazes me too how we usually have the same preferences. Like a shade of red for my nails. I was already eyeing on this particular one and she picked it out herself! But the funny thing was when the "nail technician" (how professional, huh?) started painting, Cerise gushed and said "Oh, mommy, you look like a mom now!". I could only laugh and hug her.

So what about these "nail technicians". These are immigrants from Asia - possibly Korea or China - who have infiltrated the malls of Auckland, setting up booths and shops and demonstrating dexterity in manicure and pedicure.

Five years ago, I wouldn't have a clue as to where one could get her nails done. Not that I was into that back then. But it was one of those things that left me flabbergasted. Hair salons here do not necessarily offer manicure services. You would have to go to a spa to find one.... an expensive one.

Early this year however, they seemed to have sprouted everywhere in a flash. You could smell the chemicals they use even a mile away. Needless to say, the white people were quick to file complaints (health hazard achuchu) which obviously were addressed without delay for that strong scent from a mile away has miraculously disappeared. Just when I thought they were gonna be banned sooner or later, it's in fact business as usual for these chinese and koreans. Hindi lugi negosyo after all. Which, I must say, is a change that I welcome wholeheartedly.

For one, I have given up on my dream of having the skill to do my own nails like a pro. I much rather pay someone to do the job than torture my nails physically and aesthetically. Two, now I don't have to toy with the idea of hiring the services of a Filipina.... whose gossips I might have to put up with, not to mention the invasive questioning that usually starts with "anong visa mo?"... and that question coming from someone you meet for the first time! Three, I have tried the services of a European and it was incredbily the lousiest job ever I can't even talk about it! And last but not the least, there's simply nothing like the Asian touch. They may not be from my home country but they're still asians in every way, minus the tsismis.

Owing to extensive training on attention to detail and quite possibly the obvious communication barrier, these nail technicians never look up while on the job. They just take your hand gently and work it! Madly! Well actually, they move like one who's dancing the fox trot. Short and long, fast and slow movements. It's almost like feeding your hands into a machine and with a beep, your nails come out beautifully done! Those full 30 minutes, or 45 or 60, depending on what you want done, are spent on keeping their heads bowed down, never taking their eyes away from your nails so that no cuticle escapes them, giving your nails the perfect shape and paint ---- such precision; such quality. They smile at you twice - before and after. They only speak to you twice -- to ask you what you want done and to thank you for your money.

My girlfriends and I once went to this reflexology thing where your mains is a foot massage, head and shoulder massage your entree, and back massage your dessert. It was lovely! None of us wanted to get up and go. We just wanted to spend the night there. Apparently, the shop was owned by a Chinese who provides training back in China and then hires those people as contractors to come here for 3 or 6 months and all they do is massage people's feet. Then they go back and get replaced by a new batch. Hmmmm....asians.... you either hate them or love them!

A white horse balloon was the price for Cerise for behaving so well during my half an hour of vanity. I mean, really, she's begged for it like 4 times. So that makes it every 8 minutes on average.

And just an update on Cerise's phonetics and spelling skills.... coz as we all know..... learning doesn't, never, shouldn't stop....
Have you ever, in your entire life, tried to spell the letter W? Hmmm? Did you ever think that you could actually spell the letter W? Because I didn't! I mean, I was sure that the spelling of W, if any, is simply W.

But boy was I defied by my own offspring.... for in her spelling book, Cerise has put together letters that spelt the letter W and it read...

dbu

My Crowning Glory in Peril

When asked who are the important people in my life, naturally, i say my husband and daughter, immediate family, friends.... until last night, when I made a phone call to Servilles (the hair salon I've been going to for two and a half years now) to book a quick fringe cut with KATE, my hairdresser for two and a half years.

Imagine how heartbroken I was when the lady on the other line said Kate has left them already! I felt crushed, devastated and betrayed that she hadn't contacted me like she promised, to let me know of her departure so that I can get to her wherever she is. Although, she probably thought it was no use coz she's gone back to her hometown in Palmerston North which is probably 5 hours drive from Auckland. Still, I couldn't believe what I heard; couldn't accept it. Panic gripped me. I was speechless but my mind was asking one question after another..... why did she leave?.... why didn't she tell me?.... is she coming back to Auckland and working at another salon?.... if yes, where?.... did she even take note of my contact number?... would she contact me when she does come back to Auckland?.... who's gonna cut my hair now?.... who's gonna do my highlights?.... s&#t!... I don't even know what mixture of colours she puts on my hair!.... chestnut?... hazelnut?... chocolate?... crimson?

It dawned on me that Kate is, a matter of act, in that list of important people in my life. Probably the very very very last in a long list of 100 but nevertheless important. We clicked the first time she did my hair. We know each other's life stories. Each time I see her, she knows exactly where we left our conversation and would pick up from there. She listens to me and understands exactly what I want and need. Even when I struggle to explain clearly what and how I want things done, she always manages to get it right. ALWAYS! Now that is something you don't find everyday. So even if to lionize her in this manner is sooo shallow and such a sickening exaggeration, I dare do it.

The lady on other line, sensing my shock and disappointment, assured me that she will refer me to someone who is as good. Yet, the name and gender didn't even register in my mind! I'm certain she said the name was Francis or was it Frances? So does that make him a her or her a him?

Tomorrow I meet that person. I take solace in thinking that he or she MUST do a very good job. Servilles, after all, charges very dearly. Still, these new developments leave me anxious. Perhaps, I should be more cautious this time in getting too attached to a hairdresser for like anyone and anything in this unreassuring world, hairdressers do come and go.