Swim Suit Shopping
I accidently left a couple of things behind in the truck when we were dropped off at the border after the Uyuni expedition. One of those things was my bathing suit. Not a big deal. I can always buy a new one, right?
Shopping in Argentina for a bathing suit goes a little something like this:
"That's cute, that one is kinda ugly. Oh, there's one I like! Where is my size..."
[flipping through the rack] "Size one. Ha, that's funny. Ok, size two and... oh there's a three. Size ZERO? What the...? Ok, maybe they're all out of sizes 5-10."
[enter store number 2]
"Black. Ok, that is perfect. A simple black bikini. Exactly what I'm looking for. Size... three. Size zero. Oh, come on! Am I in the children's section or something?"
[enter store numuber 3]
"There's a nice blue one. I like the stripes. [deep breath; looking with hopeful eyes at the tag] Great. They have it in size zero. That's just f*cking fantastic."
[enter store number 4]
"Wait... what is the point?" [exit store; go get ice cream]
Needless to say, I have yet to purchase a bathing suit.
Una Pedicuria, Por Favor?
After nearly two months of trekking around, my feet needed some love. So, I thought it wise to make an appointment for a pedicure in the morning. What better a way to kick things off in Buenos Aires?
I was hoping it would be up to par with my favorite spot in the East Village-- full with the whirlpooly foot bath, lots of colors to choose from and friendly service. Ok, first off, chica gives me attitude for making an appointment at 10am. Like, it was MY fault that was her shift. Then, she takes me upstairs to this dark and scary mezzanine area where I immediately spot a couple of roaches scattering.
WTF.
I suck it up, tell myself this is an "experience" and continue on. After I plop my feet into a bowl of hot water, Sassy McBitchface proceeded to put on rubber gloves and a surgical mask... and take out a scalpel and powertools. I kid you not.
Before I go any further, let me say this: my feet are NOT gnarly. Actually, I've been told by more than one pedicurist that they are "very nice." Sure, they were a bit dry and rough, but they were funk-free and decently pre-pedicured.
Girlfriend starts with the scalpel, which didn't alarm me. My fear was more in anticipation of her use of the exceedingly powerful-looking drill. She scraped, scrubbed, and clipped and then said something in Spanish to which I replied, "No, gracias." (Later, I come to realize she asked me if I wanted color.) Then, she started in with the drill.
I admit, watching her with the surgical mask and gloves and powerdrill working on my feet made me want to laugh. She really should've been performing surgery or welding something. Anyway, I stifled the urge to bust out in uncontrollable giggles for a solid five minutes. Luckily, the urge subsided and about 10 minutes later, the sanding and buffing was complete. My feet were like two sticks of buttah-- softer than my face, really.
It was the scariest, yet the most effective pedicure I've ever received. Unbelievable.
To recover from the traumatic pedicure experience, I made an appointment at Aqua Vita Medical Spa. Opted for the "anti-stress" day package. By the end of the four hours for pampering, I couldn't remember why my feet were so soft. Absolutely. Divine.
I accidently left a couple of things behind in the truck when we were dropped off at the border after the Uyuni expedition. One of those things was my bathing suit. Not a big deal. I can always buy a new one, right?
Shopping in Argentina for a bathing suit goes a little something like this:
"That's cute, that one is kinda ugly. Oh, there's one I like! Where is my size..."
[flipping through the rack] "Size one. Ha, that's funny. Ok, size two and... oh there's a three. Size ZERO? What the...? Ok, maybe they're all out of sizes 5-10."
[enter store number 2]
"Black. Ok, that is perfect. A simple black bikini. Exactly what I'm looking for. Size... three. Size zero. Oh, come on! Am I in the children's section or something?"
[enter store numuber 3]
"There's a nice blue one. I like the stripes. [deep breath; looking with hopeful eyes at the tag] Great. They have it in size zero. That's just f*cking fantastic."
[enter store number 4]
"Wait... what is the point?" [exit store; go get ice cream]
Needless to say, I have yet to purchase a bathing suit.
Una Pedicuria, Por Favor?
After nearly two months of trekking around, my feet needed some love. So, I thought it wise to make an appointment for a pedicure in the morning. What better a way to kick things off in Buenos Aires?
I was hoping it would be up to par with my favorite spot in the East Village-- full with the whirlpooly foot bath, lots of colors to choose from and friendly service. Ok, first off, chica gives me attitude for making an appointment at 10am. Like, it was MY fault that was her shift. Then, she takes me upstairs to this dark and scary mezzanine area where I immediately spot a couple of roaches scattering.
WTF.
I suck it up, tell myself this is an "experience" and continue on. After I plop my feet into a bowl of hot water, Sassy McBitchface proceeded to put on rubber gloves and a surgical mask... and take out a scalpel and powertools. I kid you not.
Before I go any further, let me say this: my feet are NOT gnarly. Actually, I've been told by more than one pedicurist that they are "very nice." Sure, they were a bit dry and rough, but they were funk-free and decently pre-pedicured.
Girlfriend starts with the scalpel, which didn't alarm me. My fear was more in anticipation of her use of the exceedingly powerful-looking drill. She scraped, scrubbed, and clipped and then said something in Spanish to which I replied, "No, gracias." (Later, I come to realize she asked me if I wanted color.) Then, she started in with the drill.
I admit, watching her with the surgical mask and gloves and powerdrill working on my feet made me want to laugh. She really should've been performing surgery or welding something. Anyway, I stifled the urge to bust out in uncontrollable giggles for a solid five minutes. Luckily, the urge subsided and about 10 minutes later, the sanding and buffing was complete. My feet were like two sticks of buttah-- softer than my face, really.
It was the scariest, yet the most effective pedicure I've ever received. Unbelievable.
To recover from the traumatic pedicure experience, I made an appointment at Aqua Vita Medical Spa. Opted for the "anti-stress" day package. By the end of the four hours for pampering, I couldn't remember why my feet were so soft. Absolutely. Divine.
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