Ignorance (and an Hour at the Nail Salon)

http://monkeypickles.com/2013/09/10/ignorance-and-an-hour-at-the-nail-salon/

I stared down at my toenails. 

They were beginning to resemble chipped paint, from an old, rusty automobile,

only, one might describe that as “vintage” or “classic”, or even . . . “charming”.

It was a Friday afternoon, and I had an hour to spare – time for an overhaul. 

I went to my “regular” place, where the nail technicians speak very little English.

BUT, I am not there to have a discussion about world politics,

     and small talk bores me, so that suits me just fine.

I, once, read an online review by a customer who could speak Vietnamese. 

She indicated that the nail technicians were all taking trash about the customers.

I asked myself if that bothered me. 

     “NO,” was my response.

As long as they do a good job, I don’t care what they have to say about my

     “charming” toenails (or, any other part of my body, for that matter).

I just stick my feet in the warm, bubbly, non-judgmental water, press the “seat recline” button on the remote control, close my eyes, and tune everything out.

Sometimes, I do get caught up in the sound of the language.

And, sometimes, I am AMAZED at how MUCH these ladies can talk!

I am not a big talker (in ANY language), but what could they possibly be talking about?  For THAT long??! 

     I wonder . . .

Then, I laugh to myself. 

They are talking about my “charming” feet.

That may be so, I think, but this calf massage feels REALLY good. 

Sometimes, I look at the other customers,

     and try to imagine what the nail technicians might be saying about THEM.

OH, I can have a good time with that . . .

 And, wouldn’t it be great if I COULD speak Vietnamese???

I could spontaneously chime-in on their conversation.

Can you imagine the looks on their faces?

I wonder how you say “Oh, shit!” in Vietnamese??!

Language, in general, fascinates me. 

I always wonder what American English sounds like to foreigners.

I, once, asked a Dutch speaking friend what he thought.

     (Now, DUTCH is a funny sounding language).

With one eyebrow raised, and a semi-frown, he tilted his hand side-to-side,

     and said, “Nothing special,”

which is exactly what I would have guessed. 

    

After my nails were painted (the color of the day),

     and I sat with my feet under the “toenail dryer” for ten minutes,

I went to the counter to pay my bill.

With a smile and a tip, I said “thank-you” to my nail technician, Aya.

And, maybe she did talk trash about my “charming” toes,

  but when she smiled back at me, I chose to believe that it was sincere,

for ignorance (and an hour at the nail salon)

                                                               . . . is bliss. 

http://monkeypickles.com/2013/09/10/ignorance-and-an-hour-at-the-nail-salon/