Vietnam Ahoy!

So we're now in Vietnam. After a short layover in the most impressive airport we've ever seen in Singapore. There was an outdoor, rooftop cactus garden and an electronic sign in the ladies room urging visitors to rate the facilities as they left, enough said. Though we arrived in Ho Chi Minh City at night, which was a bit daunting, our trip into the city went very smoothly, as every local person we've encountered thus far has been unfailingly kind and helpful, and all we must do in return (besides of course being very grateful, which I suppose we don't have to be, but we certainly are) is be stared at. Laura for her fair skin, which in a country where a number of women wear white-tinged makeup to make themselves appear paler, and whitening treatments seem to be a standard beauty treatment, has been a source of not so subtle admiration, and me for my height, which for a girl in particular around here is of Amazonian proportions.

We had a short stay in Ho Chi Minh City to begin with, in which time we had the opportunity to buy at least twenty pairs of sunglasses, had we been so inclined, as we explored (wandering vendors hold out a few different things, but sunglasses seem to be the favourite), but one of the many beauty salons is where we were headed. I selected a foot scrub and paraffin dip from the services menu, which was lovely, but I'll admit I don't recall any other foot beauty treatment that also involved cracking all my finger and toe joints in a hair-raising manner, having an arm and shoulder massage which culminated with a manoeuvre which can really be described no other way than being repeatedly punched in the arms (truly, I had a dead arm on the right side for quite a time after this, and the woman doing this I would describe as deceptively petite), and for the finale, being bopped repeatedly on the head, which for reasons I cannot fathom, cleared my sinuses in a way usually reserved for sniffing strong peppermint scented things.

The paraffin portion of the treatment, which I had envisioned involving dipping my feet in a little tub, perhaps while perusing a magazine or some such, in fact turned out to involve whole leg movements which looked like something out of an aqua aerobics routine while extremely hot wax was painted onto my legs and feet, even between my toes. My waxy portions were then encased in plastic wrap and towels for a waiting period before it was all peeled off again. At the final moisturizing phase of the treatment it was gravely suggested to me that I carry on into a treatment they offered charmingly called foot scraping. As a person who likes to be barefoot as much as possible and on all terrains this didn't come as too much of a surprise. As it turned out, this process essentially consisted of having your feet, mainly your heels, grated like a piece of cheese. By the time Laura came down from her leg wax there I was with my legs splayed out in front of me and two very intent women crouched in front of my feet wielding tiny graters. But, I have feet as soft as a baby's bum to show for it!