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.

When one wakes to a morning of this chat, you know it is going to be a special blog day;

Insert Facebook Quote


When one reaches for the chewable Vitamin C tablets bottle on the desk, and accidently picks up the brown shoe polish, one knows one has a problem, don't know what yet. Are we talking a deeply psychological one, or merely in need of a trip to Specsavers... hmm... perplexing! No! to tidy ones desk is now a necessity!! Phew close one!


So with daily Vitimin C tablet now taken, and shoe polish cap firmly screwed back in place and positioned away from the Vitamin C tablets, I will go formulate chattage material. Till later in the pm, when drivel, of day, shall appear! 




xx

The Bond Babe - Is back...

...she may have subtly, and all so be it sultrily hugged the shadows for a little while there, but like any Bond girl this was only a tactic of alluring intrigue, of coyness and suspense. Making my way up to the auto rickshaw for the second time in as many days, I flexed out my chest ever so slightly, so slightly that even an adolescent boy who had been looking out for such a move, wouldn't have been able to detect it - and yes, the sports bra was enabled and ready to support!

With memories of the last auto rickshaw kangaroo jumping and conk out on my mind, I took my battered pride in my stride. As the red auto rickshaw, I'm told goes by the name "Radegund," loomed ahead of my path, we made our acquaintances once again, with a glint of questioning in my eye that even Clint Eastwood would no doubtingly be proud of, I approached the drivers seat, as my two crew members settled in the back. A sports bra wouldn't save them now! Only a miracle would allow their safe return, and thankfully I believe, hand on heart, in the occurrence of the breaks of law in nature that is a miracle- sorry Hume!

As I  placed my hand on the accelerator, and my left hand on the starter engine button, I revved as prompted.... Radegund on the other hand didn't....  Radegund conked out.... I tried yet again, composing myself... revvvvvvvv..... and conk, Radegund had done it again! the stubborn git had got me! - busted.... all on camera, for video diary - *^*&%&$$@!!!! I turned around to the passengers, "I'm doing it right!! Right?" With the prompt response that I am meant to rev it, and the retort back, "I am" the conclusion that Radegund had had a late one the night before, and drunk his tank dry, meant a group effort at refueling was created. ...It is interesting what you can do with an empty Spite bottle and a pen knife, and within less than 60 seconds a funnel was created, which was good to see as I was told to bring a "she wee" but was unable to locate one in time for the trip. So my mind has now been put to rest, thanks to Radegund's thirst, as I finally have the girl scout way to achieve such a recycled she wee device, while out "in the field" ... although it would probably be the consumption of the Sprite bottle that would lead to needing to relieve oneself through said bottle.. but it is all relative! Ah, there I go... off topic...!

So with petrol in tank, passengers in back, the camera switched on, and the she wee problem solved, I cracked the bad boy into first and chugged along in motion, up to second, and I had got it! FINALLY!! As I circled around the car park, breeze in hair, grin on face, I reformed the dream that had been thrown to tatters on the floor the day before! The dream of the Honda Bike purchase, the black leathers, the blonde hair curtain fall, (a sore subject at the moment as was advised to dye it brown for this trip and it hurts!!! I am a natural blonde - take me back please, my roots sob daily!) powering through country lanes, drawing up, and Bond girling it off that thing, the dream was back! Mw ha ha ha! Oh did I forget to mention that while waiting to the side of the road, a car reversed into the front of Radegund, with me stationary behind the wheel, all caught on camera, and no language but Russian being batted around...? Slipped my mind you say? I guess they are right, too much day dreaming Can be dangerous!!

Painting!

It is official, I now consider myself psychic!!

Well, well, well, I don't know where to begin, so as it is now Thursday, I will go back to Tuesday...? Well someday around about then. Having only really seen the inside of an internet cafe for an extensive amount of time in Bishkek, it was time to hit the famous bazar! And a bazar day I had indeed! Weaving through the traffic, on foot, I make it sound like I was in a car, but no, my pieds were in fact in charge! We hurried to the coolest buses in Bishkek. There are two types of buses in Bishkek, your usual jump on and off's that you see around most towns and cities, and then, there is the most fabulous invention in the world, a mini bus bus! Yes you may be thinking back to your school days, and thinking, this girl has officially gone nuts, I like to think I was ga ga at birth, so don't waste your time about saneness and me, but these buses, you literally hopped on, there was only room for 10 to sit, and about 4 to stand and you hurried off along the streets for 8 com (pronounced "som" 46 com = $1).

The only way I can think to describe these buses, was by the first few things that poured into my mind, when I first nestled into the seat. I imagine that a 70's commune would probably describe the feel well, it was very dark and chilled inside, cushioned of course, and people just jumped on and off whenever they felt their destination had arrived, they didn't even need a bus stop for the invite to pop off. It just felt so chilled, it was immense! I guess it was the small closed space that created the feel, although, in reading this back it does just sound like your normal bus, anyway enough about these buses, and back to my pieds.

So I entered the hustling bazar, and had stupidly thought that morning - do I NEVER learn- oh these flip flops I have had for over a year should probably snap soon, oh well will look out to buy another pair at some stage. Well 15 mins into this bazar - SNAP!! First my beloved friend the Tommy Hilfigure sungalsses and now the SHOES!!!?! Alas I do now know the people I am with well enough to let them know it is official, all facts now point to me being psychic! I have had an inkling for sometime, plus a fortune teller did in fact allude that I was slightly, with gift! So as I stood there one footed, as my friend whipped my flip flop off, told me she would be right back, she sprang off through the market crowds, as I listened to Rihanna, "Te Amo" - that song is EVERYWHERE here! While trying to stand ever so chic like, while swaying next to a felt hat stall, I had to try to show, with my only sign language of smile, to the stall owner that I was in fact balancing and waiting, and no it wasn't appropriate to buy a hat just at that precise moment. Then boom! (yes Elaine, I apologize, I did just say "boom" Oh there I slipped out with it again)! Appeared wonderful friend (alas not the Tommy Hilfigure sunglasses) with the fixed flip flop (right footed flip flop for those who are wondering) for 10 com! I was in such shock, she apologized for the excessive price, excessive! I LOVE this place!!

Speed walking through the clothes part of the market was phenomenal, the clothes were arranged in meter long stools, with a surround about 2 meters high on three sides, with clothes towering upwards, there where then 60 of these lined up next to one another, in a sq meter of what felt like miles . It was phenomenal running down them and looking around at what felt like cubicles with a through path, the temptation to launch yourself up a wall of clothing, and free fall asleep was heady... yeah, yeah not the time and place I know, but man in my head it was! Damn convention people!! I do, daily!

So there I am powering down this market place, to keep up with flip flop fixer friend, with photo taking friend flagging behind me, and there to the right of me, just up ahead, a Kyrgyz guy looks up, from his stall, looks at me and shouts, "I Love you!" I love you?! I love you?!!! Have I just scored with a local? American picture taker friend behind me laughs, "Ha ha ha that is the only English phrase they seem to know, must be all those rock songs they listen to," Rock songs? Rock songs?!!!! By George it was NOT! I was working those alley ways like a cat walking pro, and strut my stuff... I must have been, I had been noticed, observed..... SPOTTED!!!! Again, I have to keep reminding myself we are in a Bishkek bazar, not NYC on 5th Avenue, and no business card of "Storm Modeling Agency" had been flashed into the palm of my hand, but my word, in my head it had! Ok, I jest! But what a hoot! If he loved me, it got me to thinking, would he allow me to have only a fraction of the clothes on his stall for free, or the whole lot, because in my mind, if a guy loved you, he has to pay for your wardrobe right? Right? hmmm.... maybe that is my problem in guy finding, should probably take that from near the top as a priority when looking for a guy and stack it near the bottom - shame :-(

So, having found superficial love in a market in Bishkek - one way of course, and not reciprocated! I left after depositing a few com, having purchased a bag, gifts for people, and a diary, I left without the two main items I was going for, a felt hat and felt slippers, but there is always the weekend to go find felt slippers that will don me the nickname elf, and my word will they be a hub of florescent colour! Such a hub that they will turn heads in fact, even in a British market, where I will get a Brit shouting one of these days "I Love you!" in which I will reply, "Quite rightly!!"

The day the TKMAXX purchased Tommy Hilfigure sunglasses ... died!

I knew this day would come, as I packed my pelicase in the UK, the thought crossed my mind that my dear old friend, of three years, probably wouldn't make it past the first couple of days of the trip, and alas, my fleeting thought, became an omen.

As I lay the glasses, now in two pieces, into it's newly adapted burial chamber (previously glasses case) I thought back at the times together we had had. The flash backs of the initial ecstatic nature when my eyes first discovered said friend, waiting to que for the till while in line to purchase other products (red dress) in my third year of Uni in the Dundee TXMAXX. Oh how foolish I had been with my first fears as I qued to pay, my mind wandered, how I was dubious to wear them in public! Could I pull them off? Where they too big for my face? Did my nose really look THAT big with glasses perched on top of it ?!? -a fear that I still carry with me to this day. Would people mock me for my thought that I could potentially pull off a legit label and attempt strutting down the street with them on, in daylight too! But oh how all those anxieties disappeared, when those sunglasses stepped up to the plate, and proved, I too could wear a pair of "designer" sunglasses, that albeit the previous season, that a star, a rich investment banker, or a fashion conscious critter had also donned ( for about 200%of the price, so the sale lable informed me)! .... I was on the edge of "the club," hanging on by the skin of my teeth bare knuckled teeth, but I was there! I didn't mind that "the youth" mocked their lopsidedness, as my dear old friend became tired with age and maturity, I could see through the scratches and the dents that had formed on the lens due to the hardy nature of me warring them through sleet, snow and sun - and multi seasonal purpose wear them did I lots- and God damn it that was all that mattered! But as I painted a black panel to be attached to the black Tuk Tuk yesterday for our epic tea tracing trip, the scene of them tumbling to the floor from my face into two pieces, will for ever be ingrained on my memory.

Etched is the reminiscence, as I think of the sturdy UV Factor dear friend had, which will never be replicated, well not soon anyway, smooth was friend's upholstery, but like an old family car I have many a picture of me and my buddy, and in future years I will look back and reminisce at out times when we were together, happy, living.

When I arrive home in my week off in November, I shall find a plot in a tranquil garden somewhere, and lower the burial chamber in to the envelopes that is earth's sacred soil, and bid my friend adieu for the next life, as I place two coins under the lenses to ensure old friend safe passage to the next life.

But one thing is for sure, ohh how we lived!

Dear Old Friend

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan

04/2007 - 09/2010

Rest in Peace now,
It's your time for a well deserved rest.

Ode to the Re-hydration Sachet!

On this trip I have brought a total of 35 re-hydration sachets, with 3, so far, ingested. By the end of the trip I feel it will be appropriate to publish my first manuscript, "Re-Hydration Sachets - It's tipple time!" (a must have for all purchases of this product), with yours truly on the cover, as a 1950's housewife, with drink in toe, and an apron around my waist looking angelically at the camera!


So far I have discovered the following about above product;


            1, Solution is preferred in a china tea cup vs. a plastic cup - taste acquired depending...
            2, Always apply a stirrer to said procedure of infusion, in fact anything will do, including a nicely
            nail varnished index finger, or even a chipped one, as gentle ebbing of cup in a circular motion
            will never do justice to  final product.
            3, Do not mix said powder with sparkling soda water as the poor buggar only gets confused as
            to which should be the fizziest, the powder / water, so sin gas it is highly advised!


So please keep yourselves posted for the publishing of said effervescent drink findings, in which I will endeavor to have found the perfect stirrer, container, whether "Sir" prefers it "shaken or stirred" and the most satisfactory mixer. With this quest completed, the first addition will be fresh off the press, and with every first addition I will kindly attach the "perfect stirrer" to the front of the book.

(If you mention this blog when purchasing, "Re-Hydration Sachets - It's tipple time!"  you will receive one free book with every one you buy, for the perfect stocking filler! I am assuming this as like most first time published authors, I will over estimate the amount of copies I will need, for this already over saturated market that is powdered cocktails, and will have a warehouse full of books which will need shifting!!)!!

 One thing that is of concern is that it's been four days since I arrived, that's FOUR DAYS working in a production office, staying in a bedroom, on proper sofa bed, food is substantially similar to the UK, just slightly less fruit and veg, but it can be found - and has been found! and water intake has been out of a bottle and of similar quantity as to the UK. So the concern is, with all these similarities to home... and being in a civilized city with most mod cons... and not being, "out in the field," yet... If I can drop a jean size in two days, and have had three re-hydration sachets, and a few immodiums thrown in for good measure, I can only presume that I am most likely going to drop a vital organ while tracing tea! 

Oh well! "Bottoms up comrades!!"