The Worst Pedicure EVER!

The whole culture shock thing is setting in. Who am I kidding? I've felt twinges of it from the beginning; at least I knew it was coming and I knew what to expect. When we moved to Malaysia I was a neurotic mess at the beginning- I was neurotic before we even got there! (but that's a whole other story) At least here the bouts of homesickness and culture shock last for a few hours and then pass on so I can go on with the rest of my day. It is always so much easier to blame your problems and frustrations on everyone else- that's why I have to remind myself that I'm the foreigner, the guest in this country that doesn't speak the language and doesn't know what she's doing.

Everyone here has been extremely nice and helpful- I'm just frustrated with me. Not being able to do the simplest things- like take a bus (because there are a million buses and I can't even remember how to say ¨bus stop¨ to ask where one is), or think of a single intelligent thing to say to the girls in the lab (I probably sound like a five year- old child) or figure out how to chew out the pedicure lady for torturing me (I'm getting to that, BELIEVE ME). Enough with the self-pity. I know I'm going to get to the point where I'm not so awkward and things come easier- it just takes time. This is all part of living abroad; does three months count? I say it counts

So I had to have a pedicure...

I kept an eye out, asked around, and finally found a place that advertised manicures and pedicures. In my wildest dreams I was hoping that pedicures in Argentina would be as nice and affordable as they were in Malaysia; NOT SO.

Normally when you get a pedi you soak your feet in a hot bath to soften everything up. At this joint they pulled out a freaking sander and went to work! I know my feet were a tad bit calloused but come on! Does this remind anyone else of that scene in Dumb and Dumber when they pull out the saw to trim Harry's toe nails? (My feet weren't that bad- promise)

A photo of the torture weapons...

So I'm not very proficient with Spanish- I figured sounds like "Ouch!" or "AH!" or audible gasps of breath combined with moving my foot away, were universal for "Damn lady, that hurts! Lighten it up a bit will ya?!!" Sadly, these signals were not universal.

I'm the dumbie for not walking out. I couldn't though- as bad as the whole experience was, I was morbidly fascinated. The whole process was unlike anything I'd ever seen; I kind of sat there and stared with my mouth hanging open- drool about to escape at any moment. At least now my curiosity has been appeased and I KNOW that I'm not missing out on anything.

After the whole fiasco, I stopped by a grocery store to get some baking powder and some shortening... I had my great grandmother's tortilla recipe in hand; I was on a mission. I found the baking powder, but what about the shortening? I knew I wasn't going to find Crisco, but I looked and looked for some kind of equivalent. I finally broke down and asked the girl at the pastry counter- I knew enough Spanish to describe what I needed (snaps for me!) and she found me some lard. It then occurred to me that even though the recipe called for Crisco, they probably didn't have the chemically- manufacterd/partially- hydrogenated/trans- fatty goodness of Crisco back when my great grandma made tortillas. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that she used lard? My grandma will let me know.

I've never made tortillas before but I think they turned out good.

They tasted really good...

We were both quite happy.

Amanda and I are leaving for Buenos Aires tonight (above picture is of us buying our tickets); all we have left to do is book a hostel. I probably won't be blogging for a few days but who knows? All I know is that I'm coming back with a guitar...