hot pockets

Kehena Black Sand Beach

The first time I went to a nude/topless optional beach was in Greece when my friend and I were meeting a B-school classmate in his home country. Unfamiliar with the local customs, we didn't find out until later that it is legal to go topless at all beaches in Greece, and while a conservative country with its religious affiliations, naturism has popped up at unofficial spots throughout the country and surrounding islands.

Typical American women in our 20s, we were fascinated by the Europeans' 'joie de vivre'. We spent countless minutes debating on whether we should or should not, especially since we were thousands of miles away from anyone we would know (other than our friend who was joining us later). Ultimately, we talked ourselves out of it. 

Soon thereafter, an elderly women laid her belongings near us and started to disrobe. Most likely, she was a bronzed goddess in her day and it was clear that she came from a time where SPF was not a factor in the fountain of youth. While buxom, gravity had taken its toll. In silence, we looked at each other and almost in synchrony reached back to untie our respective bikini tops. Later, in recounting the experience, we both realized that the woman had something that our womanhood craved...an air of confidence that nobody could ever touch.

After swimming in the ocean and feeling the movement of the water against my sensitive nipples, I felt such a sense of liberation and perhaps for the first time, the possibilities of where my body would take me if I let it. Unfortunately, our 'prudish upbringing' had us covering up before our friend joined us. While I have been on clothing-optional beaches since then, I stayed in conformity with my fellow companions.

The Pahoa area is a bit of the Wild West where people live off grid and seemingly no rules. At the top of the cliff are ad hoc food vendors, offering fruit and some grilled meats off the back of the trucks, a front for a side business offering herbal and plant medicine.

coconut refreshment

Unlike other clothing optional beaches I have gone to over the years, Kehena Beach was the first one where it seemed completely judgement free, regardless of whether one chose naturism, fully clothed and all variations in between. Children and pets, including chickens, were welcomed, and although there was no trash repositories anywhere, everyone embraced the Burning Man principle of 'leaving no trace' (rub-a-dub-dub). 

On Sundays, there is an amazing improv drum circle that resonates primitive sacral beats against the roaring of the surf. The energy of the place (a likely combination of Mother Nature and the inhabitants) felt different from saudade (part 2), perhaps laced with that air the Greek woman exuded. It was still there today even without the frivolity of the drum circle.

My first time a few weeks ago, I once again found myself falling into stride with my companion. Perhaps in rebellion of her judgments against women in alternative lifestyles and/or perhaps entranced by the primal movements of an African man with a body of Adonis, I felt the siren song of the elderly Greek woman from decades before. Although out of politeness, I asked my companion a few weeks ago and my companion today if they would be uncomfortable, it was more a gesture of formality. 

The last few years of exploration has gotten me more comfortable in my own skin. As I embraced that air that is untouchable today, I find myself wondering how the Greek woman's story unfolded and how her journey got her to place where her aura touched two strangers, and left a mark on at least one.

* * * * *

Lava a few stories deep

Along the road to Kehena Beach is a juxtaposition of the dense forest and the barren black, a souvenir from the last eruption at Kīlauea's east rift zone in 2018. At the east side of Pohoiki Bay is where the new meets the old as the lava was halted by the coolness of the ocean waters, about 200 yards from the Isaac Hale Beach Park parking lot. Now cut off from Kapoho Bay and Leilani Estates, this part of the world is a bit remote but a little persistence and a beautiful surprise awaits amongst the lava rocks.

Unlike other hot springs on the mainland, the hot ponds at Pohoiki is clear and is trapped by the surrounding black sand or lava rocks created from the ocean currents inundating the bay with sediment from past eruptions. The water is heated underground by the active volcano and is released in various vents. The pond furthest from the ocean is the hottest and has registered temperatures as hot as 106 degrees, rising since 2020, which some believe are due to the brackish salt-water that has changed the water table underground, elevating the fresh-water to higher temperatures. The tides also seem to influence the temperatures throughout the day.

While not quite the texture of pumice stones, the lava rocks provided a decent alternative to exfoliation, and an impromptu soak in the hot ponds provided by Pele with the minerals from Papa or Ka-luahine was a beautiful way to end the day. We also met a lovely blue heeler named Kiko who amazingly was not deterred by the heated ponds, playing catch with me while her master floated in the pond.

* * * * *

Perhaps supercharged from the vibrations of the Earth, an inexplicable incident occurred as we stepped into the Thai restaurant in Pāhoa that evening. Another patron and my friend recognized each other from the hot ponds. I didn't quite connect the gentleman but maybe he was the person I clambered passed as we got to the smaller but hotter pond amongst the trees. I only saw his back as he was sitting, gathering his things. 

He was seated facing the windows while reading his book, waiting for his order. As the night progressed, I felt this pull on the left side of my body, which was facing him although he was not in my line of sight. I'm not sure when I made the recognition that it may have been attributed to him, but as my friend chatted with him on the way back from the restroom, I started to clean out my inbox on my phone, when I came across the word from a listing from the Redfin email at the same time he named the town he was staying in on the island...Pepeekeo. The first time I had seen or heard it, a mere five minutes from our rental.

Hesitant to voice it but driven to acknowledge it, I mentioned the strange feeling in my body and the simultaneous visual and auditory echoing of his town. Even as I put words to it, my throat started to constrict. I don't know when he left but I felt it as my body slowly released the tension. It was as if there is a knowing of his energy, perchance from another life or a foreboding or sanguinity yet to be fulfilled. I knew it was not the last time I would see Matt.

mermaid tears

With all the beautiful gemstones in the world, my eyes tend to gravitate to the simplicity of sea glass. While stuck in the torrential downpour during a Hilo Friday night market a week ago, I killed time at a local jeweler's booth until the sky seemed less angry, finding a muted turquoise sea glass necklace. The next day at the Hilo farmer's market, while meandering the booths, my eyes glanced upon something similar until I looked up and realized that it was the same vendor (and thus, same sea glass).

"I have spent many hours on the beach collecting sea glass, and I almost always wonder, as I bend to pick up chunk of bottle green or a shard of meringue white, what the history of the glass was. Who used it? Was it a medicine bottle? A bit of a ship's lantern? Is that bubbled piece of glass with the charred bits inside it from a fire?"

~ Anita Shreve 

Since reading Sea Glass, by Anita Shreve, I had the impression that sea glass was naturally made from the combination of colorful rocks and the chemical and physical intervention of the ocean. Rather, sea glass is made by man but refined by nature. It seems that sea glass can also be completely man-made by replicating what happens in nature, although it may lack much of the frosty covering. In nature, saltwater dissolves the lime and soda content (additives in glass production), resulting in the frost over sea glass, and the pulverization of the waves, salt and sand over 20+ years smooths the edges of broken glass.

Sea glass is becoming rarer as glass is being replaced by plastic. People, also, don't tend to bury their trash under the sand at beaches or carry their trash to sea to dump in the vast oceans like they used to. Still, with natural disasters and shipwrecks or the careless human tossing trash overboard or leaving them at beaches, broken shards from these discarded glass products tend to find their way to the shores of Australia, Italy, Puerto Rico, Mexico, northeast U.S., northeast England, the Isle of Man, and Hawaii. Although its genesis is one man's trash, because of its beauty and rarity, collecting sea glass is at times protected, with it being illegal at U.S. state parks.

* * * * *

Plantation circa 1935 (imagesofoldhawaii.com)

At the end of Mill Road in Pāpa'ikou lies a nondescript gate with signs warning of private property (ease-dropping) and not allowing dogs, fruits, soil, or vegetation (extra-terrestrial). We had heard about a sea glass beach where the estuary of the Kapue Stream meets the Pacific Ocean, of an old sugar plantation. The agglomeration of sea glass is a byproduct of the devastation of tsunamis in 1946 and 1960, destroying nearby homes and businesses.

Pāpa'ikou Plantation was originally owned by Charles Hinckley Wetmore, a missionary doctor whose daughter became the first female doctor on Hawaii, and Edward Griffin Hitchcock, the youngest of three sons of early missionaries to Hawaii and tasked with running the family plantation, later becoming the Marshal of the Republic of Hawaii, responsible for arresting Queen Lili'uokalani during the 1895 Counter-Revolution in Hawaii. It was later consolidated with the Pauka'a and Onomea Plantations in 1888 to form the Onomea Sugar Company, resulting in a property that is 6-mile long along the eastern shore and 3-mile deep, with water from Kapue, Honoli'i, Pähoehoe, Wai'a'ama, Kawainui, Hanawi, Ka'ie'ie, and Ka'awali'i providing the hydro power for electricity and flumes. 

Remnants of sugar mill structure

Along the trail, hugging Kapue Stream, glimpses of years gone by blended in with the surrounding foliage and glistening brook. The trail has been well maintained without any bushwhacking necessary. Onomea was widely known not only as one of the most beautiful plantations but also for its innovation. It was the first to use commercial fertilization and constructed 55 miles of flumes to transport the sugar cane. 

While it was one of the last plantations to hand cut cane, it also invented a special plow, adapted to the local topography to protect its soil. In a labor intensive industry, many workers were imported from Japan, China, Puerto Rico and the Philippines, with families living on the land and offered free medical services. Fierce competition internationally caused many of the sugar plantations to close as they could not stay competitive with labor scarcity and rising wages.

The estuary was a refreshing respite from the hike and heat, as nature's gentle massage to the body. At first, the beach looked like many of the other black sand beaches on this side of the island with tiny refined pebbles from lava rock. But catching the light, a twinkle in the sea of black unearths nature's gift back to man...frosted white, amber, green, turquoise, seafoam, teal, cobalt blue.

"The only problem with looking for sea glass is that you never look up. You never see the view. You never see the houses or the ocean because you're afraid you'll miss something in the sand."

~ Sexton Beecher ("Sea Glass" by Anita Shreve) 

rub-a-dub-dub

I would have never thought that my journey in life would have led me to Black Rock City. The couple of burners I had met over the years seemed to exist in another dimension from my life in corporate America. Camping in a remote desert with only the amenities that you bring in and out, leaving no trace, sounded like a miserable experience.

Yet magic can happen in the strangest places, and we have opportunities to learn more about ourselves when pushed into uncomfortableness. It was a year-long manifestation that prepared me with smaller festivals camping in the desert and navigating other burners in the poly communities. My journey led me to the playa...and the playa was waiting to enfold me, befitting its theme for the year of Metamorphoses.

Some of the lessons and experiences seem to sacred to share but as I've learned in full circle (part 6), birthdays are much better shared. Unbeknownst to me, my partner had planned out the day of festivities, which on the playa is a feat in itself since anything and everything unplanned can happen.

Slushies - What can be more refreshing in the desert than slushies for breakfast? Of course, as I was getting too comfortable from the respite, lounging in a chaise in the desert, I was rushed off to the next adventure, despite my feeble protests.

Nuclear Dandelion - Relaxation I asked for? Relaxation I got...at an oasis spa in the middle of the playa. A cold face mask seems a mundane activity at home but in the middle of nowhere, it was a luxury that my skin drank in. The lessons of gratitude became a recurring theme.

Glamour Shoot - With a hydrated face, despite the layers of dust on my body, I was whisked away to a glamour shot at Tickled Mink where we get to showcase our 'burner straight from Mad Max' costumery.

Cup of Joe - Naturally, in celebration of my background...well perhaps more coincidental than not, we made a pitstop to cool down with Vietnamese iced coffee and Thai iced tea.

Birthday Goodies - Of course for my sweet tooth, we stopped by the Black Rock Bakery VICE - Vietnamese iced coffee.

Traveling the playa takes a lot of patience, and traversing to the other side is like traveling to the other side of the world. No ubers, just our feet and our trusty decked out bicycles. Of course, it wasn't our first attempt but ended up being a moment of synchronicity that we encountered a moment of kindness to be ushered in as the last group, not having to navigate any long lines...

Bubble Bath Orgy - The Foam Dome (open secret of course, sponsored by Dr. Bronners) was and experience that cannot be explained. Bodies in its natural glory, undulating to tunes DJ'ed by the best in the festi scene. How best to celebrate a birthday than in my very own birthday suit. I probably wasn't the first, nor will I be the last, but it was fun being a child and having a golden shower moment, as my little secret.

Birthday Treat - Black Rock Bakery was like a siren to my sweet tooth. I got special treats and a surprise birthday song from strangers that were family.

    

 

Bon Apetit - Spoonful of Friends is Black Rock City's attempt at fine dining, hosting 50 people for a taste of French cuisine. Reservations are hard to come by like Michelin restaurants and are oftentimes made in advance of the Burn. We may have been the only few Americans among a sea of international dialects. The food seemed like a minor player in the beautiful connections being made.

Lost in the Deep Abyss of the Dust - Stretching with clouds of dust to No-Man's Land, we ended the night not letting the night end. Chasing Sabo and parties at Camp Q, exploring art installations, taking a moment at the Temple (chimera) to respect experiences of the past that shape us, and releasing any inhibitions to the guide of plant medicine, we lost all sense of time in the magic of the moment.

It may not be my last Burn, but I will never have another first Burn. A day of synchronicities, a day of abundance, a day of loving and kindness ... a dream I never dreamt. I am ME. FREEDOM!

same same but different

The skyline has changed. There are multiple Starbucks and the Golden Arches seemed to have made its debut. Lê Lói Street is practically unrecognizable with the construction to build a subway. Yet, as I spent my first day in District 1, navigating new and old spots, many things are still the same.

Vietnamese white coffee is a combination of strong black coffee with sweetened condense milk. As I am not a coffee drinker, I tend to substitute it for black tea. However, in good old Vietnamese style of not thinking outside of the box (a box of crayons), if it was not on the menu, the wait staff could not take the order, despite having all the vital ingredients. Substituting tea for coffee in Vietnamese white coffee or substituting sweetened condense milk for milk and sugar with an order of a pot of tea somehow was overly complicated.

birthday bubbles

It continues to amaze me that I am remembered not only by my face but also by name (at your service). For some of these establishments, it has been two years, others more than four. From the bánh cuốn (street food) lady to a foot massage lady who has never worked on me but had seen me in the establishment to the spa owner who automatically knew how deep I like the pressure, it felt good to be back. I even got a glass of bubbles from a restaurant manager who remembered my birthday.

Tricia & Verona are expensive for local customers as tailors; however, their quality and price tend to cater to expats. Over the last six years, I have maybe used them three times maximum, of which one was for a bridesmaid dress that my friend had organized for her wedding in 2013 after I repatriated. Having sent in measurements beforehand, I had only planned to come in a week before the wedding for any last minute fittings.

popping out...almost

However, Verona had remembered my measurements to be much smaller (e.g., thinner) than what I had submitted so adjusted accordingly as she had assumed that the measurements were incorrect. They were so confident about the prior measurements that they didn't even cut the pattern to have much wiggle room. Since that time, my friend out of principle no longer uses them although she initially introduced me to them. The groomsmen and their friends though were making bets as to when I would pop out of my bridesmaid dress. As they put it, it was not a matter of "if" but "when".

Since I had only a week left here, I did not have time to explore new tailors. Besides, my friend's principles are not the same as mine, as it was not my wedding that they had put stress on. Quite frankly, Tricia & Verona had intended to provide the extra customer service based on repeat customers, and knowing our personal profile and measurements. It could have completely gone the other way if my measurements that were sent over were, in fact, incorrect, and they did not have time to correct it. When picking fabric color this time, Verona noted that as my clothes tended to be more neutral and/or subtle so for a fun outfit, she suggested I got for a brighter color such as burnt sienna. I was slightly taken aback when she stated it so confidently as if she had been observing my wardrobe over the years.

As the foot massage lady commented that she had not seen me come in the in a very long time, my other friend who was with me noted that perhaps she was just making conversation (yes, we were texting each other as we sat next to each other); however, I am not so sure given my recent experiences in the last 48 hours. As for special orders, I soon learned that it was better to order the pot of tea, and then ask for sweetened condensed milk after the tea has been brought out.

face of the girl (part 4)

Unlike the Middle East (face of the girl (part 1)), not all cultures and/or religions value virginity, and in some instances, this changes over the generations. In modern day Japan, there seems to be a trend to find potential wives who come with a bit of experience. This becomes a challenge for women who tend to live at home with their parents until marriage, resulting in more unmarried women in their 30s. This is also coupled with sekkusu shinai shokogun (celibacy syndrome) as many are losing interest in conventional relationships, and/or sex altogether.

Japan has one of the lowest birth rates, with its population projected to reduce by a third by 2060. Recent studies show that a third of 30s and under have never dated. Of the 16 to 24 year olds, over 25% of men and approximately 45% of women were not interested in or despised sex while over 60% and almost 50% of unmarried men and women, respectively, between 18 to 34 were not in any type of romantic relationship. Rumors exist that there are deflowering services for a woman in her 30s looking to increase her marketability in the marriage department.

In ancient Khmer society (Thai and Indian cultures also), priests representing Hindu, Buddhist, Taoist teachings performed rituals to deflower pre-pubescent girls. The bodily fluids were considered potent and were rubbed on the foreheads of family and friends. Virginity was not necessarily valued in Hindu/Indian societies, where it is believed that a virgin could never attain enlightenment, resulting in some post-mortem deflowering.

Ratus Nonaboki (vaginal spa) in Bali

In tantric practices, the yoni massage was a spiritual treatment in India and China to release blockages and negative trauma/emotions. It increases circulation and hormones and creates a healthy balance against many health-related problems. At birth, it is believed that a woman's yoni contains positive, pleasurable cells that may be disconnected from the body due to trauma, belief systems, and other negative energy.

The first time I received a yoni massage was in Singapore. In the US, many advertise it as some trendy buzzword; however, they are usually different forms of sensual massages rather than any particular tantric technique. Women would go to "trained physicians" to get manual stimulations to "produce healing paroxysms" as temporary cures to hysteria (face of the girl (part 2)). It is more common for men to find lingam massages than for women to find yoni massages. However, in the last few years, searches of such are coming up with more hits in major cities.

While it is still a very anonymous, private activity, certain women are more relaxed even with random masseuses/masseurs as they can minimize their anxieties of feeling as if they either have to reciprocate or being "judged" by someone they know (causing many to fake orgasms). Her Private Pleasures and Temple of Bliss have many anonymous testimonials from women, some who have only receive release during such sessions.

Doctor M has even been featured in a few articles. From the initial contact to the initial meeting in a public place, he was so mysterious that it clearly tempted my Sag moon. He was very professional and clearly used to interacting with women who are skittish to these types of experiences, based on his communication and instructions. I found it cute and comical. While I usually give my partners heads up on my "convulsions," my wicked side decided to be just as mysterious.

Doctor M does not claim to perform his sensual massages under any tantric techniques, so whether he knows of the kundalini awakening or not, he apparently witnessed it for the first time, and had to ask whether he needed to be alarmed at the ongoing full body spasms, even when not touched. He tried different "calming" touches to try to quiet her, which in some cases only energized her more. It was well past our session time when he finally resorted to asking how to stop the awakened beast - wrapping her up in a towel and closing the window from any movement of air (basically, stifling any flow of energy), despite feeling very energized afterwards.

beach angel

I have been independent for as long as I can remember. As a latch key kid, my mother would leave food on chairs so that we could reach it. Even as a small child in Vietnam, our dog would protect me with a neighbor checking up on me once in awhile, so my parents tell me. While a part of me would love to be taken care of one day, it is ingrained in me not to rely on such.

So once in a blue moon, I am taken aback by little gestures that fall into that category. Sometimes, I am glad for the background that I have that still makes me very appreciative when those moments pop up and bring a bit of happiness in my life. A gentleman, who spent less than 24 hours with me almost a decade ago, not only met me at the airport to pick me up but also dropped me off and hung out with me while I was waiting for my flight a couple of years back. Living in New York where most do not have access to cars, it isn't common for people to pick others up or drop them off. After 9/11, most would just do curbside dropoff and pickup in other cities. So even though we barely remembered what each other looked like, it was a sweet surprise to see him at the airport rather than getting an address for the taxi to drop me off.

New York has also taught me city-sense, which enables me to travel the world on my own and navigate with street smarts. It doesn't even occur to me that it is not safe for a single woman to venture certain parts of certain cities alone as I never had problems riding the subway at 4 am in the Big Apple. Initially, when the driver for the hotel shuttle to Patong Beach offered to show me a good place to have dinner after dropping a group of hotel guests off at our meeting point, I didn't think anything beyond the fact that he seemed to have some difficulty in showing me where we were on the map and that it would take some time to give me directions. During the conversation, he had asked me what I wanted to do and I had, of course, said I had no plans and wanted to see where life took me tonight.

So I was a bit surprised to see when he showed me the beach dive that he recommended for food and kept driving past it. After asking where I wanted to initially go, he not only went in to help me in case there were language barriers but also waited over an hour for me. The patroness asked if my driver was going to meet me and I had said I think he was just dropping me off, yet there he was, waiting outside when I walked out. I asked him to join me for dinner and he refused, but despite me taking a stroll along the beach, he was there when I was ready to go to the next place. Bangla Road was my final stop, and since there was no place to easily drop me off, he tried to find a parking spot. I asked him to just point me in the general direction and I would be fine.

Even though I detoured and navigated a few stalls on my way to my destination, he found me. An unassuming sort of fella that always stood in the background, whether in front or behind me or just waiting outside while I had a drink or did my thing. He spent the entire night being my guardian angel. If karma does exist, he should be well taken care of in his life. He even insisted in helping me carry my purchases and while he gave me back my shopping bag before he went to get the car, he handed me another bag and said it was a present for me (a tank top) to remember Phuket. Lo and behold, my guardian angel knows me so well!

double trouble

Gambling is prevalent in Vietnam; however, a law that only allows those with foreign passports to enter local casinos allow for plausible deniability (what's your sign?). Given its proximity, busloads of locals would travel to the casinos at the Cambodia border. Naga World is one such place in Phnom Penh. However, after perusing the casino floor, I soon discovered that there were no craps table to socialize. Fortunately, the spa was open until 3am, which even the king of sin cities (aka Las Vegas) doesn't even offer (well, not counting the rub & tug establishments). 

One of the services was a four-hand massage. The only other time I've experienced this was in Mexico. Definitely something that I couldn't pass up. The spa facilities were definitely something to write home about - caverns of rooms with individual steam showers, hot saunas, large bathtubs, beds and massage tables. It was a shame that I came alone as my immediate thought was that there were so many options for hours-long entertainment.

I opted for the 120 minutes session. I may have a small frame, but this body likes to be bruised when it comes to massages. Every crevice was worked on. A masseur once told me that there is a certain way to work on the lower back which would eventually result in a happy ending. In my travels, I haven't quite discovered this technique...yet. However, while the four hands didn't quite get me the happy ending, it was dang close. After three straight nights of partying until 2-3am, I sure slept like a baby!

a good stretch

In the US, I remember seeing a number of spas offering Thai massages, but never had one. I had incorrectly assumed it was another type of deep tissue based on pressure points or something similar. So I was excited when my friend booked a 2-hour Thai massage after a long day out and about - a good ol' hard deep tissue, relaxing massage where I can fall into a deep sleep.

The place was a huge establishment with great services and very organized. I was confused when they brought my friends (a couple) and me into a room with three mattresses on the ground and no curtains or towel to crawl under. I was more befuddled when they brought in big Thai pants and shirts to change into as I'm used to being in the buff for my massages. Flashbacks to all those times in school when you had boys face one way and girls face another - we quickly changed.

A Thai massage is one where the massage therapist uses his/her body to stretch yours into various yoga type positions. Too bad I didn't know about these massages during my developmental years as it may have helped me be taller similar to Bobby Brady stretching on the swing set. I did not get my deep sleep but I left with my back cracked.

at your service

I have heard a number of people complain about the service here, especially as compared to Western standards. Tipping is not required and in most cases, not expected. There have been instances where 'extras' are added onto a bill, and some use that as a benchmark to determine if they will tip (i.e., the accuracy of the bill).

However, with the prices being generally much lower here (see spoil me rotten), foreigners, primarily tourists as local expats know better, tend to overtip - usually not based on a percentage like in the US but in some cases, the amount of the service if not more. For example, for spa services where a 60 minute hot stone massage can range from VND 70,000 to over VND 1,000,000 depending on the establishment, a percentage tip is drastically different for the same service. So I've been told that one should tip VND 50,000 to VND 100,000 depending on how well one liked the service - so this could result in paying more for tip than the actual service.

I'm all about rewarding individuals commensurate of the services that they provide. However, when tipping is expected, it becomes less of a reward mechanism. In NYC, the rule of thumb for tip is 15% minimum. When we were at a low-end restaurant where the waiter only took our order and never came back to our table to see if we needed anything else (even though we requested other staff members to get him a few times), we felt obligated to give him the 15% although we really wanted to give 10% to give him a message. When he collected the payment, he stood there and counted his 'exactly 15%' tip, and had the balls (yes, balls) to ask us, 'That's it?'

Lately, there have been a few establishments, primarily in the tourist areas, that post tipping 'suggestions'. In one case, it is the example I cited above where the suggested tip is a bit over the price for the service. There are many signs that are put up for 'foreigners,' including those that attach 'foreigner premium'. So when we gave what we thought was representative of the service, the cashier chased after us a bit later to tell us that supposedly the individuals won't take the tip (which is the typical tip my friend had given for years at that establishment) unless it is above the suggested amount, we were shocked and amused. We have a saying in the US - 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth'. My friend remarked that 'these damn foreigners are ruining it for the rest of us'.

While I will admit that the general service at restaurants are not at the level of five star restaurants in Western countries, we are also not dining at five star restaurants here. It is generally a more laid back country, and I've never been a fan of the rushiness at meal times so it generally doesn't bother me as much as others. But if there is such bad service, why is it that they know everything about me?

I'm used to being anonymous and many times prefer that. It is a bit freaky for me that I'm getting recognized and 'remembered'. I haven't quite figured out whether this is typical of their service or if I'm standing out somehow. I can see if a 6' blonde in these parts strikes a cord, but physically, I'm one of millions. Yet, usually within a second visit anywhere, a comment is made regarding my prior visit and/or they are addressing me by my name. On my first visit, my facialist commented that I must work in the building because she has seen me. Yesterday, a new person at a salon I have frequented before commented that she saw me there last week with my parents.

I will admit though that this does come in handy when I don't even have to place an order and the coffee lady knows what I want or the people at the pastries stand (even new people that I haven't dealt with before) hands over my order in front of all the 'rude' folks who just cut in front of me without me opening my mouth to order. But this does put a bit of a damper in my usual modus operandi of clandestine dating.

spoil me rotten

Sometime in my 30s, I decided that I was going to treat myself with 'me' time. It started as a massage and/or facial or body scrub once a year. Summer months had the special treat of manicure/pedicure once a month. As my salary increased, so did my spa treatments with quarterly massages, semi-annual facials, and mani/pedi's once in awhile during the other seasons.

However, I have more than met my quota since my arrival here. What started off as two women getting together for a massage has turned into half a day of female bonding. We have now started a weekly girls' Sunday spa day whereby a number of us (~5) meet for a variety of such services. 

While there are a number of establishments with a wide range in prices, the prices usually are not indicative of the quality of the services. Many of my friends go to different places for different services although all of them offer the complete menu.

Some of the finds (not necessarily by cheapest prices but best quality) so far include:     

  ~ 60 min hot stone massage (VND 70,000)

     ~ mani/pedi (VND 80,000)

     ~ 90 min foot scrub (VND 150,000)

   ~ shampoo with 30 min scalp massage (VND 75,000)

    ~ makeup application and updo (VND 200,000)

    ~ highlights and haircut, which includes 30 min shampoo and scalp massage (VND 1,000,000)

* fx rate VND 21,000 = USD 1

Today's treatment was a 60 min facial, which included a hot stone upper body massage, at the Dermalogica spa. One of the best facials I've ever had. So when they had a promotional offer for first time customers of 'buy 10 at 30% off with 2 bonus facials,' I couldn't resist getting a few. I was told that it is the most expensive facial in the city but well worth it. At the equivalent of USD 23, it is enough to make a girl feel like a pampered princess!!