I went to go and get a pedicure for the first time in ten years the other night, after work.
Swiftly, I walked from my shop to the nail place. I did not have much time. I have always avoided getting my nails done. I am not a fan of chemicals or pushing my cuticles down (surely they are there for a reason?). Anyway, despite that, I wanted to treat myself. I stand on my feet all day, and I am going to treat myself to more foot massages in the tiny tourist night market by the esplanade in my town (Cairns, Australia), more often.
So I walked in, all the ladies were busy except the eldest one, overlooking a job by another nail technician. She walked up to see me, saying nothing. I mumbled something about a pedicure, and she mumbled something back, in heavily accented english, I had to ask, "sorry, what did you say?", she repeated herself, "what colour would you like?"
Hmm.. well, I hadn't actually though of that. I glanced up at the hundreds of bottles lining the walls. Ummmmmmmm
Dark Blue.
She walked away to collect all the bottles of dark blue for me to choose from.
I settled on a sparkly deep indigo. So deep it was almost iridescent purple.
"Good colour" She said.
She motioned me towards the seat closest to the door (so people might be enticed to do the same I thought), and turned on the sink, motioning me to sit as the foot bath filled, and she shuffled away to collect her tools.
I was nervous. I am not a high maintenance girl. I am off beat. The beaded turquoise and gold guatemalan collar I wore was slipping to the side of my magenta coloured cotton shirt, and the pants I wore were strangely unsuitable for the foot bath. Macrame tassels hung down to my ankles and I hastily tied them up above my knees. When she came back I was still tying them up, "I wore the wrong pants for this", I said quietly, as the girl in active wear sitting at the closest nail bench glanced up at me strangely. She didn't understand me, and motioned for me to sit anyway. I crawled into the chair. She turned on the massage component of the chair and the cogs within slowly kicked into gear and started whirring behind me.. Grrrrcchhhhh ggrrcchhhhh, I tried to relax, which was not easy.
It had been ten years since my last pedicure. I did it for my friends wedding. Unfortunately I went to a party in the mountains the night before, and got quite drunk. So that pedicure only lasted a day before my feet were completely covered in mud again, and back to their general state of being.
Again, trying to relax, my feet in the water, she tapped one of my feet to bring it out and place it on the towel. She worked in silence for a while. I could not help but recall an interesting comic I had seen on the internet, where all of the racially stereotyped jobs were reversed, and white women were doing asian ladies pedicures. I groaned internally, and looked into her eyes with as much love as I possibly could after a ten hour day of serving customers. She could tell. She asked me where I was from. "Here" I replied, "I have lived here for nine years now...." She was surprised, "Oh, I thought you must have been a tourist, not from here", I was surprised by that, my soft brisbane accent has been slowly replaced by the brutish vernacular of the north I had though. "Where are you from?" I asked.
The surprise in here eyes was tangible. I could see her soften. Intrigued by this curious anomaly before her. A local, that asked where she was from. Vietnam. Myanmar. She had been here for four years. Her husband, an Australian, had brought her and her son here. Her son was 17. Her husband was an alcoholic and smoker who kept her up all night coughing. He never taught her to drive. He would come home and drink so he could never pick her up after work. She works six days per week, and pays half of everything even though nothing is in her name. My heart opened so much to her, and we entered a strange space of reciprocity. I could tell that no one ever asks her these questions. I found it hard to decipher most of what she communicated through her broken english. But it didn't matter. The looks through our eyes were enough.
When it was nearly finished, she asked if I wanted a peppermint scrub before the lotion for $5. Sure. Why not.
as she scrubbed my legs, she told me more about her husband, but was stoic in her determination to teach herself how to drive. Whilst she was speaking about her husband, she was scrubbing my legs so hard and so repetitively that I though it might break the skin, but I didn't actually mind. I let her grieve through the process of being able to open herself through me.
One of the other ladies had noticed how much time she was spending with me. She came over to sit on the cushion beside me and we just smiled and laughed, all three of us. The newcomer asked my technician why she was spending so much time with me, "is she making you happy?" and all three sets of our eyes lit up and we all laughed. "Yes", she replied, and her eyes had started to leak happy tears of being able to recount her life to a stranger who cared.
It was funny because at the end she grew serious and started to ask me all kind of question that you would only ask a psychic. Will I find another man? Where will I find him? Will I find him here? Her eyes searched mine for the answers.
Yes, yes you will. You will find him, I told her. But first you will have to run away from your husband! Hypnotise him with youtube videos while he is passed out on the couch to curb his drinking and his smoking. You can do it, I told her. I believe in you. The next house, make sure it is in your name, and leave him. You deserve to be happy.
When I left, she asked me to come back soon.
I had to leave before my toes had fully dried to get home to my family. I had worn the wrong type of shoes as well, boots in hand, I ran through the streets barefoot, with my wet indigo toes sparkling, and for some reason, everyone's eyes met mine as I ran to my car with my fresh pink soft feet. Another ruined pedicure! haha!
Be kind. Ask questions, answer honestly, and most importantly, listen. For we can often only figure out our truth once we voice it out loud.
I hope she leaves him and finds herself a new life. Again.