Well, well, well...

...It has been a while since I have decided to utter words of randomness on said blog, but I feel I should, as I have people asking what I have been up to, and words have escaped me up until now..

So far in the past two weeks I have gained many new experiences in my life, I have been;

-Sick as a dog.
-Digested my first lot of charcoal (which i have always wanted to do as I saw it once on Casualty when I was a child, but I didn't fancy much eating a fox glove to make this happen, but I apparently ate something of similar effect).
-Mosquitos have decided to take a liking to only my lower left arm, which I am sure baffles the mosquitos as much it does me!
-Been driven to the outskirts of Bishkek and watched the sun set.
-Had a wonderful massage, manicure and my first pedicure!
-And discovered Celine Dion is alive and well in Kyrgyzstan cars as the CD of choice.

But out of all the above events, who would have thought the most fearful was..... THE PEDICURE!!!

Ah the humble pedicure, I have put it off for many years, but when I was offered one as a treat at the ripe old age of 24yrs I thought, "Why not." My closest experienced of a pedicure, up close, was this summer when a friend of mine asked me to go with her to hold her hand. I think it is up to date the closest I have ever come to being a birthing partner, as I watched her huffing and puffing and dying with judders as her feet where touched. I on the other hand didn't suffer discomfort in such a pleasant way, in fact, as someone who really feels feet are underrated and appreciates mine a lot, as they carry me everywhere, I feel they will be wrapped up in kid gloves for the rest of my life as I have them propped up on a goose feather stuffed cushion, after The Trauma of 2010!

As I walked into the shop, I was told I was seeing "The Master" my cousin walked out looking slightly sheepish as she informed me that she fell asleep and woke to her nails being painted a pleasant shade of pink (they only had 5 shades of this colour spectrum to choice from).  But even which such words of her experience I had a feeling mine would not be similar. As I waited in the doorway for the sink to be filled to have my feet soaked, I took in the nature of the room. It was a white, titled, clinical looking room, with no windows, two chairs, over two sinks, and only enough room for 2 people, although it boasted that four could be squeezed in when two clients were having there feet attended to. As an ajax type powder was added to the piping hot water, I was instructed to walk up the two stairs, which provided the seat at a higher level than the sink, and immerse my feet. To which The Master, promptly walked off.

Sitting with my feet, burning, I fell into the "Rosie-esq" daydreams people have witnessed on many occasions. It could have been 20mins, it could have been 3 hour, but by the time she walked in, the water had cooled and I had snapped out of whatever universe I had been entertaining myself in. As she walked in with a cigarette lighter, I naively thought to myself, "Ah yes, a cigarette break before client." Oh how wrong was I! As she sat down in front of me, she opened up a cloth bundle to reveal utensils, that in any other situation, would have been used to extract information, and that lighter, she took it and lit a bottle of meths! As the comical alarm bells started to sound in my head, I it laughed off, as I thought, oh maybe lit incense for the pleasurable experience. As I thought this I looked at my feet in the water, only to look up at her taking the utensils one by one and waving them through the meth flame. I was alone, in a white tiled clinical room, where my only three words of Russian extend to "Thank You" and my street address to where I am staying... I was screwed!

It seems I have forgot to add the subtext of this story, back in the of Easter 2010, I found myself on a mountain side in Wales, 50mph winds, balancing near a ridge, with snow drifts up to my thighs as I resembled a goat trying to clutch onto the side of the mountain for dear life. After incident, I lost 4 toe nails, and the feeling in one of my toes - frost bite. As I was gutted that for a second summer there would be no flip flop season for me, (the previous summer Scotland had taken them) the podiatrist told me I had good feet, but the hematomas under my nails were so severe, I should be concerned, but they had seemed to be so much better in my return! I thought... oh how wrong was I, when one of the four fell off to show greenness and dry rot, I knew I would probably have to wear socks for the rest of my life. As my toe nail has grown out, it wasn't the happiest in colour, but I am a realist/optimist, it had been worse, so I was fine with this deal! Again, three words to my Russian vocabulary, although, I thought, many hours of practice of Charades and The Hat Game were going to get me through this, I knew deep down, my miming skills are not that of a L'Coq student in Paris, they aren't even that of a baby trying to tell their parent they are hungry... I have only ever.... acted... with words! Busted!

As I braced myself for the first stages of the make over, what can only be described as stirrup/old style crutch was place in front of me, my right foot was placed onto of it with poise, as I realised how glad I was there wasn't a reaction camera in the place. As The Master went to her utensil pouch, spread out neatly on the table, next to meth bottle, I saw her produce what can only be described as a 1950's heavy duty razor, one slip, and this little piggy would not be going to market he would be screaming all the way home at the blood surrounding the scene, and I uttered to the ambulance driver my street address in Russian. I had to remind myself, she had The Master, title for a reason - though this took me to the vision and description of the The Master in "Dr Who" I again tried to push such a concept out of my mind!

With the razor replaced on the tray, the biggest pain of my life was about to unfold, how do you tell a Russian Pedicurist Master that, unlike most, I enjoy flinging yourself at natures elements, and only think of the possible side effects afterwards, and although she may have never seen it at its worst, and would be horrified if she had know how I had achieved such a mess, I knew, I was going to have to sit back and grit my teeth - and OH HOW I DID! The tools looked like that of a dentist, sharp and pointy in every way you don't want them to be, and rammed down the side of my poor, already traumatized nails, as she tried to create a desired effect that can only be described as denial!

40 mins one toe nail! Till I had the bright I idea of trying to show her a very heavy box had landed on it hence the "issue." Beads of sweat where pouring down the Master's brow, yet the nail looked exactly the same once she had finished trying to make it a separate entity! A glimmer of light appeared! The interpreter! Who although described the tale of the nail, didn't best please The Master.

After two hours, and a neon pink varnish applied (to signify I was born in the 80's, the 80's)! I walked out from The Master having been informed that she wanted me on her list. Her list?! I was just thrilled to be back in my trusty deck shoes again, trying to get me out of them may be an issue for future lists!

I do have to say that such an experience is not a replicur of all pedicure procedures, The Master, was a perfectionist, and unfortunately I am not the perfectionist the Kyrgyz people want me to be. My cousin and I have been informed that out friends are going to take us out shopping, and we are going to leave Bishkek looking like Princesses and Queens! The footwear of choice in Bishkek, the stiletto, for myself, the beloved deck shoe, for my cousin the hiking scandal, they feel they have their work cut out, but I am happy to be the lamb to the slaughter when it comes to a make over. My cousin and I have decided that the trailer for equipment on pulled by the Land Rover, is going to contain only our wardrobe, and the filming equipment will just have to surrender to its fate. Although we are both unsure of  stiletto purchasing, I am convincing them that a humble fluffy, girly, snow boot is advised apparel. Although I still look forward to the Princess image they are going to conjure up, I do not know if I will ever be ready to say, "Goodbye trusty North face, goodbye padded body warmer, au revoir  sturdy hiking boot!" I can say I am defiantly happy to say, "Hell-o! Trench Coats and Silk Scarves!" I have tried to tell them that I do have such items in my wardrobe at home, but I felt this trip didn't cater to them, but I am happy to be kitted out in these old friends yet again. So as I look forward to heading to the bazar and boutiques of choice, for the purchase of a snow boot or Ugg, I at least know my toes will be warm, colourful, and survive a European and Asian winter in style, thanks to the love of my Kyrgyz, Celine Dion  adoring chums.