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I’ve been wanting a mani-pedi since we landed in Germany. I found a place and walked in to make an appointment today. The girl at the front desk took me upstairs to a woman who spoke less English than she did, and we set an appointment for 6:30.
I keep finding myself surprised by what I find up the stairs and down the stairs, or how far up or down I must go to find what I am looking for. On our first night, I needed to use the ladies room. The waiter pointed down the stairs. This seemed reasonable enough, until I began winding down a spiral stone staircase into a basement. Was there a bathroom? Yes. Was Sequoia frightened when she had to use it only minutes after I returned to the table? Yes.
On our second night, I had to use the ladies room at another restaurant. This time, the bartender directed me up the stairs. I walked up two flights of stairs and reached a door that said Private. Hmmm… Locked. I then reached the kitchen. It was not until the third or fourth floor (I am still surprised I kept climbing) before I found the bathroom.
But tonight I found myself upstairs in a hair salon, starting with a pedicure. Now, I must say, this pedicure was the most thorough I’ve ever had, and I’ve made an appointment for another in two weeks. However, it was worthy of discussion. You know when you’re watching a movie with a guy they call in to do the dirty work, and he has a case of torture devices? This woman had no fewer than 8 implements for the pedicure alone. One of them I think was called the electric ticklen-zie-feetzen-until-she-talkzen. I spent five minutes per foot praying I would neither pee myself nor fart (I’d just indulged in another delicious German dinner) while holding so much laughter in my belly. The manicurist looked up and said, “This is called ‘kitzeln’.” No one has taken it upon themselves to teach me a word until now. ‘Tickle’ was the word important enough to compel someone to do so. I was tickled.
I’m screaming!
Nice!