I don't know what's happening, but at least I can order a beer.

The first thing you should do when visiting any country is learn a few key phrases:

"Where are the bathrooms?" 

"Help! I'm on fire!" 

"I'd like a beer please"

I know how to order a beer in 7 languages, obviously something to be proud about. Unfortunately I need to keep working on my Mandarin because I have no idea how to ask for a pedicure, or even ask for my food to go*. Thankfully I have mastered the phrase "I am a singer!", which apparently means the same thing here as it does at home. (Crazy, happy, and interesting... and crazy).

With a rare few hours off from singing I decided to spend my afternoon with a peaceful pedicure at the shop near my apartment. I went in,  said my token hello and pointed at my toes, unsure of the word for pedicure. They seem to get the message as I was ushered to a comfortable chair and had my shoes removed. After a long paragraph from three women (of which I understood nothing) I responded with "I am a singer" accompanied by a large smile and nervous giggle. They either hated me or loved me, but I was serenaded throughout the afternoon as the following events occurred...

1. I was bathed in some form of gelatin and left to soak for an hour or so. I felt a deep connection to Bill Cosby and meditated on that. It was nice.

2. I was wrapped in saran wrap. Two women worked together, one hoisted me up while the other made me into leftovers. It was interesting.

3. The actual mummification. These terrifying devices on my feet sent shock waves to my wrap up jelly legs. I'm still unclear on the motivation, but I'm sure Spock would know.

You'd think that would be the end of it, but I ended up making friends during this strange torture** I was subjected to. The shop owner sang to me in Chinese, and I sang back. I even got a free coaching as she fixed my diction. (Everyone's a critic!)

The night ended with an evening of acrobatics thanks to my fabulous program! I can't believe how well we are being treated, they must not have realized yet that we are only a bunch of singers... bring on the mummification.

*I went out last night and thought I asked for my soup to go. What I got instead was a bowl of noodle soup and some vinegar in a tied-up plastic bag. No wonder the woman looked at me like I was a nut-job. Silly Americans...

**My old little L guessed correctly, I smiled and nodded the whole time. What else is one supposed to do during these experiences? Reject the cultural exchange that was going on? Just because something is different doesn't necessarily mean its bad! (But this was actually different and bad).