Brazil....
Two weekends ago Jeannine returned to Germany. The weekend before while running errands we came across an interview/article in a magazine describing in detail getting a Brazilian for the first time. It was like a car wreck- we couldn't look away and read the whole article while squirming, crossing our legs and making contorted faces of sympathetic pain.

Later that same day we were sitting on a bench in the sun trying to think of the bravest thing we could possibly do since the Waitomo caves were now out of the question...I don't know who thought of it first but we just looked in askance at one another with a "Would you..?", "Would YOU...?" (deep breath) We agreed that we could just ask and take the answer as a sign. Our bench was facing a sign of a beauty salon. We shuffled down the stairs and looking a little bashful I asked if they had a list of services. Skimming down the list...yep. Brazilian. Oh. Ok. Sure. The young woman immediately picked up on the one word and that it was probably our first time. Yes, she had tried it once and the skin technician they had was very thoughtful and very careful...she tried to insure the least amount of pain possible. (gulp) "We'll take two." Next Friday. Jeannine would take 4-5pm and I would take the 5pm-6pm slot as I taught until 4:20. Jeannine looked alarmed but I promised to come down as soon as I finished class.

The following Friday (a few short days ago) I got a message on my phone saying that sadly Jeannine's bus wouldn't make it until 5pm.

I went immediately after school and arrived at 4:25pm. Out of breath and with a bit of a wild look about me (I had after all had to run a block to make the bus) the woman showed me to a lovely sitting room and gave me a glass of water with a lemon and the napkin neatly twisted around the glass ever so stylishly and said that she was ready but if I would like to sit for a few minutes it would be fine. I thanked her.

I never know what to do in situations that require that one takes one clothes off in front of strangers. There always seems to be an etiquette but I'm never sure what it is. I'm basically a modest person. In Canada when I had my legs done I was shown into a room and then the girl waited staring at me before saying "Well, take them off." So I took off my jeans while she was watching and climbed onto the table in my underwear. It was totally weird. When I went to just have a conversation with my new Dr. in Boston he wanted to have an exam and required me to strip into a paper gown. I was mortified...I was braless and wearing lacy thong underwear. It never occurred to me that I would have to undress. When I had my moles removed I was wearing a lace teddy. Again. I didn't see how a mole on my arm would require removing all of my clothing and lying on an operating table surrounded by 8 people including a couple of students.

So...back to Brazil. After catching my breath and with these thoughts racing through my mind I let her know that I was ready. She led me to a room and handed me a pair of paper thong underwear. I was instructed to put them on backwards as the small side was the one she needed, and to take my time. I put on the paper thong and waited nervously. I looked down. "Oi. That's a whole lot of hurt I've just set myself up for.." I spied a robe on the door, so I put it on while I waited. She came in the room with a sympathetic smile. Indicating the robe she said that I didn't really need it as she would just get wax all over it. Ok. Fine. Right. Deep breath.

The wax she used was amazing. It was this heavy pink hot wax that became a bit like rubber when it cooled. It took up everything by the root first try! Yes. Of course is hurt. Ever so much. This was the absolute first time I've ever held and rubbed my bared nether regions in front of a stranger, but I had no qualms about doing so after the hair had been ripped out by the root..it was a feeling of soothing comfort. For that matter she didn't seem to mind.

For those of you who've never heard of a Brazilian, think about the little tiny swimsuits ever so famous in Brasil. Now think about the wax job to make your bikini line fit under those suits. Brazilian waxes are very popular in Europe now and I had heard about them in Spain and was curious. A friend here gets them done and she was so casual and knowing about the whole thing that I knew it was inevitable that I try. I never could stand to hear about things and not know of them personally.

Towards the end the lovely woman was begging me to not suffer anymore. What did a little bit matter? I agreed and she evened up leaving behind a one inch strip. I have a lovely combination of very soft and delicate skin with my red blond hair that does not appreciate being pulled out by the root and fights every step of the way.

Once finished I felt bad about Jeannine not showing up for hers so I asked to wax under my arms as well. Dear GOD!!! THAT HURT!!!!!!
The Brazil was nothing on that one!!
At one point I had the woman in stitches because with my one free hand I was holding my breast to keep the skin taught under my arm so that it would hurt less. However, it hurt so very much that a battle for control of my hand played across my face until my mouth finally won and my hand shot up into my mouth so that I could bite hard (thus deferring the pain a bit). She laughed so hard and then asked if she should get another technician to come in to either hold my breast or so that I could bite them. ..
Ok. All done. The pain of Brazil is forgotten for the extreme pain under my arms. I dressed, said my good-byes, paid and proceeded to the nearest wine store where I picked out and paid for a bottle while never once putting my arms to my sides. Of course I didn't NEED a drink after all of this- I just really wanted one. Or four. After that I considered walking home and decided that there are times when one just needs a bus. I sauntered across that street like a bowlegged cowboy waiting to draw his guns.

I made it home, (arms carefully lifted and never at my sides) curled up on the couch and proceeded to drink my bottle of wine through a movie and before heading out to meet Jeannine for her last night at the Coyote Ugly. Believe it or not I even danced!

A real live Kiwi bird...
Jeannine's last day we went to the Zoo with her friend Jessica. It was a depressing thing. The animals didn't look very happy and the overall atmosphere was one of gloom, however the Kiwi was pretty cool. Before they began their kiwi breeding program little was known about kiwis except that they were dying off at alarming rates. The zoo breeds them and then releases them into the wild when they are old enough to fend for themselves.

Jessica's pain...
After the zoo we had lunch and Jessica had decided to get her tongue pierced. She was very nervous and we had to wait half an hour besides. When she was called in Jeannine and I were not allowed to come in with her. We were devastated. We had so very much wanted to watch (what's the good of your friend getting her tongue pierced if you can't watch?) We waited and waited and waited and were going stir crazy with the wait when we decided to stand near the window. The window into the piercing room had mini-blinds and we discovered that we could watch through the little tiny holes in the sides where the string goes! Over joyed we watched poor frightened Jessica looking terrified as she talked and talked and talked with the piercer. At one point we got excited because her tongue was being dried off and held, but then she looked very scared again and nothing more happened. The running commentary went something like this, "Oh! Look, they're about to do it! Look! They! No. Oh! Jessica!! We have to go, just do it!!" ..."she looks so scared! I wish we could hold her hand." ..."Oh! Can you see? They're taking it out of the plastic. This is it! She looks as if she might faint. Oh! Oh! Can you see it?! Wow!! That's a HUGE needle!!" ..."Oh my...Oh! Oh! Ew! Wow! OW!! That looks painful!! They've got it through..WOW. THat's amazing! Did you see that?!! It's done!! HURRAH!!!HURRAHH!!" Then there was some dancing and clapping around the waiting room. Afterwards Jeannine invaded the piercing room because Jessica still hadn't shown herself. When she came out she looked rather sour and said that we sucked. At the moment of the worst pain she suddenly heard clapping and yelling and cheering and knew we were somehow watching. We were very very kind to her after that. Grin. Jeannine declared that we had all been bonded in pain (Jeannine had had her tongue pierced the Friday that we went to the Bay of Islands).

I helped Jeannine pack and then saw her off to the airport where we had one last drink. I'll miss her.

Good luck Jeannine. I hope to see you just after Christmas in Barcelona. I've had a great time with you here!