Picture this. It's late afternoon and the beach is full. You are in a comfy chair, drink in hand, waiting for the sun to set. Relaxed?
Okay, let's add to the picture. How about a manicure while you wait? Perhaps a foot massage?
Here's how it actually happened.
Yes it was late afternoon, and yes I did indeed have drink in hand. We were SWARMED by ladies and children from the second our toes hit the sand. Followed up the beach until we found a bar to sit outside. Yes I did have a manicure and yes I did have my legs massaged. By four people at the same time.
Sounding slightly less relaxing? Okay. Did I mention that the leg massaging ladies who now numbered two decided that my previously waxed legs (done by myself as you may recall) were very hairy. I dispute this, but nonethless by mutual consensus it was decided (by them) that this needed to be dealt with. With wound cotton. Sound odd? Yes it was.
Anyway there I was legs akimbo, fingers splayed and along come more ladies. "You say yesterday you no want manicure? Why you have manicure now? Why you not like me?"
Along come a band, yes a band of kids. "You remember me? I saw you yesterday. Why you not buy bracelet from me?" because yes, I was sporting by this stage four of them.
Shall we then go on to describe the scene? Nine people surrounded the three ring circus that was me. I couldn't move and couldn't understand anything that was being said, because lazy ass me failed to learn even the most basic Cambodian phrases before I went away. All I knew was that all was not so happy. Scuffles were involved and just a tiny bit of shouting. And I hadn't really wanted any of it to start with (although how can you say no to a manicure once the polish has been removed from two fingers before you realise what is going on?).
Because I am, gasp, 38, and not 13, I declined the offer of flowers on my nails, but am happy with my now pretty fingers!
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