Just had my second Indian pedicure. I never want a Belgian one anymore!
You walk into some dirty indoor market in Gulmohar Park in Delhi, one floor up. You make your way through the dust and find the entrance to this small beauty parlor Excellence. The door and windows are tinted so you actually don't know what kind of place you are about to walk into, but you do it anyway because you were told to. You open the door and there is this older man sitting at a desk, as if he were a lawyer, and a couple of maroon colored ladies in all kinds of Indian races standing around. The older man tells you to go through a curtain. It leads to the actual beauty parlor, which, to you, looks more like a hair salon. In this area there are even more of these maroon females, all of them looking very surprised to see a white woman entering their kingdom. Then one of those maroons asks you what you want to have done. You mention you want to have a pedicure. At first it looks quite impossible as you don't really see a space that could accommodate a pedicure. There are only these hair saloon seats, but ok, you are open minded and do not have any expectations.
Then your maroon starts running around the small area gathering all kinds of attributes from magazines up to tooth paste and yellow bottles and a big basin of steaming hot water with rose petals and all other kinds of today's greeneries found in the backyard. At the same time, you feel these other maroons are staring at you through the mirrors.
Then the practical part of the pedicure becomes clear: you stay in the hair saloon seat and the maroon sits on this small tabouret doing the footwork on her lap. Not like the European way where you lie down and she does the work while sitting on a chair.
First she removes the nail polish from your toes and cuts the nails if you respond yes to the question whether you want to have your nails cut. Maroon asks if you want a facial. You say no. Then she puts some kind of greasy yellow cotton on each of the nails followed by a soak in the hot steaming bath (my feet have never been so red) full of rose petals, greeneries and soap. “Didi, facial?” “No”. Then it's time for the tooth paste. No it is not for brushing, it is supposed to whiten the nails. “Didi do you want some juice” .
Then comes the good part. She pulls up this kind of foot scrubber tool which you have never seen before . She takes one of your legs, lifts it up in the sky and starts scrubbing with full force. That’s the point when you cannot manage to read in your magazine anymore. You feel extremely ticklish, painful and an indescribable necessity to kick the maroon ... but you love it. And after several rounds, your feet are free from hard skin and are clean. And you somehow just feel exhausted. “Didi, after one foot you have to give me the other one” maroon says. And other things in Hindi that you don’t understand.
Then comes the regular hard skin scrubber which she uses with the same force. The kicking necessity flings up again.
After all that is done, maroon removes the basin and puts your feet onto her lap. She takes some ... yes .. maroon... massage oil and starts rubbing you legs and feet with a strength that you have rarely seen before. She is basically beating you up. Especially when she inserts her knuckles into the soles of your feet, pressing spots you never even knew they could be painful. But the sensation afterwards is so relaxing!
Finishing touch with nail paint and of you go.
I said: "Maroon, you are one strong woman!" and tipped her.
You walk into some dirty indoor market in Gulmohar Park in Delhi, one floor up. You make your way through the dust and find the entrance to this small beauty parlor Excellence. The door and windows are tinted so you actually don't know what kind of place you are about to walk into, but you do it anyway because you were told to. You open the door and there is this older man sitting at a desk, as if he were a lawyer, and a couple of maroon colored ladies in all kinds of Indian races standing around. The older man tells you to go through a curtain. It leads to the actual beauty parlor, which, to you, looks more like a hair salon. In this area there are even more of these maroon females, all of them looking very surprised to see a white woman entering their kingdom. Then one of those maroons asks you what you want to have done. You mention you want to have a pedicure. At first it looks quite impossible as you don't really see a space that could accommodate a pedicure. There are only these hair saloon seats, but ok, you are open minded and do not have any expectations.
Then your maroon starts running around the small area gathering all kinds of attributes from magazines up to tooth paste and yellow bottles and a big basin of steaming hot water with rose petals and all other kinds of today's greeneries found in the backyard. At the same time, you feel these other maroons are staring at you through the mirrors.
Then the practical part of the pedicure becomes clear: you stay in the hair saloon seat and the maroon sits on this small tabouret doing the footwork on her lap. Not like the European way where you lie down and she does the work while sitting on a chair.
First she removes the nail polish from your toes and cuts the nails if you respond yes to the question whether you want to have your nails cut. Maroon asks if you want a facial. You say no. Then she puts some kind of greasy yellow cotton on each of the nails followed by a soak in the hot steaming bath (my feet have never been so red) full of rose petals, greeneries and soap. “Didi, facial?” “No”. Then it's time for the tooth paste. No it is not for brushing, it is supposed to whiten the nails. “Didi do you want some juice” .
Then comes the good part. She pulls up this kind of foot scrubber tool which you have never seen before . She takes one of your legs, lifts it up in the sky and starts scrubbing with full force. That’s the point when you cannot manage to read in your magazine anymore. You feel extremely ticklish, painful and an indescribable necessity to kick the maroon ... but you love it. And after several rounds, your feet are free from hard skin and are clean. And you somehow just feel exhausted. “Didi, after one foot you have to give me the other one” maroon says. And other things in Hindi that you don’t understand.
Then comes the regular hard skin scrubber which she uses with the same force. The kicking necessity flings up again.
After all that is done, maroon removes the basin and puts your feet onto her lap. She takes some ... yes .. maroon... massage oil and starts rubbing you legs and feet with a strength that you have rarely seen before. She is basically beating you up. Especially when she inserts her knuckles into the soles of your feet, pressing spots you never even knew they could be painful. But the sensation afterwards is so relaxing!
Finishing touch with nail paint and of you go.
I said: "Maroon, you are one strong woman!" and tipped her.
2 comments:
Official: I did not have anything to do with somebody else's feet ! I'm no fetichist ! Rudy though...
Martijn,king of feetmania!!!!
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