Back home, I don’t get my nails done a lot. Having a steady hand (and being really cheap), I always opted for doing my own nails. But after a long travel day from Valencia to Seville, I was looking for a bit of a pamper.
For some magical reason, beauty salons are ridiculously cheap in Spain. Like – 10 euros for a French manicure gel – cheap. For reference, that would be about $45 back home in Dallas.
So. I wasn’t going to pass that up.
I walked into a salon and asked the receptionist, “Hola, habla Ingles?”
Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes …
“Hola, un poco.” (a little)
I asked about availability, and they were able to fit me in that afternoon.
However, the receptionist was the only one who spoke English.
After three months of travel, I’m very comfortable with the idea of not understanding the conversation in the room. Everyone chatting in Spanish? No problem — I’ll get lost in my own thoughts. My manicurist asks me a question I don’t understand? No worries — we use hand gestures.
But sitting there watching her paint my nails, I kind of laughed to myself. This nail experience was just like any other nail experience back home. I mean, haven’t we all been to a nail salon where there’s a language barrier? And yet, we trust that person completely.
Anjelah Johnson rang through my head so hard.