 | When I travel, I usually just maintain my personal care as best I can until I get home. However, long-term travel is hard on a middle-aged body, so if I didn’t want to look like Tom Hanks in Castaway, I’d knew I’d need some extra TLC. |
Briefly, here was my personal care routine back in California:
I’m not super-fussy about this stuff, but I did have a comfortable routine. Then I took it on the road!
In August, we drove cross-country to New York City, where we spent a couple of weeks with our college kids before leaving the country. In New York, I decided to get my last American personal services and make them last as long as I could after we got overseas. I got referrals from Yelp or friends and got a mediocre but passable haircut, a mani-pedi, an eyebrow waxing (yes, fine, lip and chin, too), and a massage (the chair kind). All those turned out fine, although I missed my Krystyna. She always hugged me when I arrived. We talked about our kids, her garden. Nobody in New York hugged me. But that’s ok.
I decided to get most of my hygiene taken care of in Hong Kong, since we’d be in and out of that city the most.
First, the hair. I have curly hair with cowlicks, and I like it short. This became a problem in southeast Asia. The high heat and humidity gave me a severe case of the frizzies all day everyday. I needed help. I googled salons, and chose Freeda’s, a reasonably priced all-purpose salon nearby. The salon was a little off-putting: it was a converted apartment in a high-rise, full of the smell of hair chemicals mixed with incense and blaring Indian pop music. The cut was terrible! My loving family assured me that it looked fine, but I knew better. I went to another salon to ask about their views on my hair, but decided not to stay when the stylist said, “Too short. You look like a man.” Good thing I had emergency chocolate in my purse. I went to a third salon, very expensive, highly recommended, and they adequately repaired the first haircut but it wasn’t worth the money or the commute time so I decided to keep looking. Then, I saw a terrific-looking lady on the bus, with short curly hair and a fabulous sense of style, and I asked for the name of her salon. She gave it to me, and I got a great haircut and a treatment called Kerastase that took the kink out of my hair. It wasn’t cheap, but with Supercuts in my rearview mirror and I had to adjust.
The best haircut of the travels happened back in New York, after all the above angst. A nice California hipster stylist in Manhattan quizzed me about my life and routine, then gave me this easy-care short cut. I love her. Thanks, Erica!
- Monthly haircuts and eyebrow waxing (ok lip and chin, too, if you must know). I went to Supercuts for twelve years with my beloved Krystyna, who knew me and my children and called me Sweetie. Don’t diss Supercuts! Krystyna was terrific.
- Basic makeup, with the help of Sephora.
- A couple of pedicures in sandal season, I went to Pinky’s Nail Salon which wasn’t fancy but they were clean and the price was right.
- Monthly massages. I got massages from a certified massage therapist or from Happy Feet, a Chinese place where everybody lies on big recliners while silent masseuses dig their knuckles into the tender parts of your instep. It’s fabulous.
- Occasionally I got manicures or facials, usually with friends. It’s more of a social thing.
I’m not super-fussy about this stuff, but I did have a comfortable routine. Then I took it on the road!
In August, we drove cross-country to New York City, where we spent a couple of weeks with our college kids before leaving the country. In New York, I decided to get my last American personal services and make them last as long as I could after we got overseas. I got referrals from Yelp or friends and got a mediocre but passable haircut, a mani-pedi, an eyebrow waxing (yes, fine, lip and chin, too), and a massage (the chair kind). All those turned out fine, although I missed my Krystyna. She always hugged me when I arrived. We talked about our kids, her garden. Nobody in New York hugged me. But that’s ok.
I decided to get most of my hygiene taken care of in Hong Kong, since we’d be in and out of that city the most.
First, the hair. I have curly hair with cowlicks, and I like it short. This became a problem in southeast Asia. The high heat and humidity gave me a severe case of the frizzies all day everyday. I needed help. I googled salons, and chose Freeda’s, a reasonably priced all-purpose salon nearby. The salon was a little off-putting: it was a converted apartment in a high-rise, full of the smell of hair chemicals mixed with incense and blaring Indian pop music. The cut was terrible! My loving family assured me that it looked fine, but I knew better. I went to another salon to ask about their views on my hair, but decided not to stay when the stylist said, “Too short. You look like a man.” Good thing I had emergency chocolate in my purse. I went to a third salon, very expensive, highly recommended, and they adequately repaired the first haircut but it wasn’t worth the money or the commute time so I decided to keep looking. Then, I saw a terrific-looking lady on the bus, with short curly hair and a fabulous sense of style, and I asked for the name of her salon. She gave it to me, and I got a great haircut and a treatment called Kerastase that took the kink out of my hair. It wasn’t cheap, but with Supercuts in my rearview mirror and I had to adjust.
The best haircut of the travels happened back in New York, after all the above angst. A nice California hipster stylist in Manhattan quizzed me about my life and routine, then gave me this easy-care short cut. I love her. Thanks, Erica!
 The frizzies in Singapore, with spicy crab |  The frizzies in China |
 After the Kerastase treatment |  Supershort in New York (passport mugshot) |
Next, the eyebrows. (Fine, fine, lip and chin, too. It’s hereditary, what am I supposed to do?!) Back in California, Krystyna would lay me back in a chair, cover me tenderly with a towel, slather me with hot wax, and yank out the hairs by the roots, murmuring, “Sorry, sorry, almost done.” We’d hug it out at the end. In Hong Kong, I made an appointment with Freeda’s. As I waited for my waxing appointment, a middle-aged British lady was getting her eyebrows threaded. I had no experience with threading. The threader worked silently, strings forming a Y between each hand and her mouth. The British lady kept twitching and sharply inhaling through clenched teeth, and when she was done she stood up, blotted the tears on her shirt front, and laughed weekly, saying, “It just hurts so much.” That’s when I decided, if something can make a Brit cry, I need to try it. I accept your challenge, Pain! The stylist switched my appointment from Wax to Thread, and I got in the chair. The feeling of having the hairs yanked out remained the same, but since there’s no wax on your skin, the only yanking sensation is on the hairs. It’s also strange that you have to hold your own eyebrows with your hands while she threads you. You assist in your own torture. On the lip and chin, you have to put your tongue inside your cheek or lip to hold the skin tight. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO HOLD YOUR TONGUE INSIDE YOUR UPPER LIP WHEN ALL YOU WANT TO DO IS CRY? The stylist seemed a little peeved at me for not being able to keep my tongue in the right place. I’m pretty sure she considered putting her knee on my chest to hold me down. I think the oddest part is hearing each tiny hair leave its follicle, like one-octave glissandos on the piano, played over and over. Finally, it was done. There was no hugging. Just paying. But, I’ve got to admit, she did a great job, and it may have been a little less painful than waxing. Certainly quicker. Or maybe I blocked out the pain memory. Like childbirth.
Massage is not just a fun thing for me. If I don’t get regular massages, my shoulders clench up and I get headaches. (I’m not high strung, I just react intensely to life.) Traveling, with its stresses and baggage, adds to the mess that lives in my shoulders, so I’m dedicated to massage.
I had my first non-USA massage of this trip in Singapore. The hotel recommended the Green Apple Spa, so I went there. It was similar to spas in the US, cheap, clean, and the Malaysian massage lady did a great job. I don’t like it when they try to upsell you additional products or services, but after 5 minutes on the table she lovingly commented that I was really tight and could probably use an extra half hour which would be exactly what my body needed, so I agreed. Also, it was air-conditioned in there. Well worth the money!
My next massage was in Taiwan, and it was fine, although the therapist did not go below the waist. What?! No toe pulling? No elbow in the buttock? Nope, I guess not.
In Hong Kong, I tried Freeda’s but the therapist didn’t seem interested or passionate about her job. If you’re bored during a massage, that’s just not right. So, I tried another place with good reviews, and when they asked if I wanted oil or acupressure, I panicked and said oil. Was that the right answer? No, it was not. There was a lot of oil, and not much relief of neck tension. I decided to give that spa a second chance, because it looked great and the price was reasonable, so I chose acupressure the next time. The therapist, a nice lady named Jenny whose only English vocabulary was, “Okay?” knew just where my problems were and had me begging for mercy within two minutes. It was fabulous, but in spite of Jenny’s acrobatics (at one point I felt both her knees in my back at the same time), my shoulder tension didn’t improve that much. Must keep looking.
By the way, beware the “happy ending” massage! Yes, it is what it sounds like. Check reviews before you book a massage, or you might get more than you bargained for. Prostitution is legal in Hong Kong, so something as bengn as a happy ending massage doesn’t even get blinked at. Know before you go.
In Japan, I had a lovely massage with sweet-smelling oil and muted noncommittal music. The only strange thing was that, because the room was so small and the massage table was against the wall, the therapist rubbed me down on one side, then shoved the table to the other side of the room and rubbed down the other side. This happened several times. I learned to hang on when she shifted positions.
I had a pedicure at an expensive salon in Hong Kong, because I wanted to be sure the facility was clean, but it was too expensive and there was NO FOOT MASSAGE. It lasted 15 minutes and cost $60 USD (no polish). Outrageous! I had a cheaper pedicure at Freeda’s, which was adequate but I didn’t go back because it was quite primitive--they put me in a salon chair and brought in a plastic bucket full of hot water. Flimsy massage. There was no magic there.
In Israel, I got a fish pedicure. Frankly, I was a little disappointed with the fish. First of all, the fish tank was in the window of the salon and I had to sit in the window. It felt like being in a dunking booth as pedestrians stopped to ogle me. The human pedicurist wasn’t there, so it was just the fish. The fish were not very cooperative. They nibbled my feet the way cartoon characters nibble corn on the cob, chomping down quickly several times before letting go. They just nibbled any old foot part they wanted, not concentrating on my callouses or dry heels. It felt like tiny electric shocks each time they bit down. After the fish pedicure, my feet felt just the same. Only wrinkled.
Massage is not just a fun thing for me. If I don’t get regular massages, my shoulders clench up and I get headaches. (I’m not high strung, I just react intensely to life.) Traveling, with its stresses and baggage, adds to the mess that lives in my shoulders, so I’m dedicated to massage.
I had my first non-USA massage of this trip in Singapore. The hotel recommended the Green Apple Spa, so I went there. It was similar to spas in the US, cheap, clean, and the Malaysian massage lady did a great job. I don’t like it when they try to upsell you additional products or services, but after 5 minutes on the table she lovingly commented that I was really tight and could probably use an extra half hour which would be exactly what my body needed, so I agreed. Also, it was air-conditioned in there. Well worth the money!
My next massage was in Taiwan, and it was fine, although the therapist did not go below the waist. What?! No toe pulling? No elbow in the buttock? Nope, I guess not.
In Hong Kong, I tried Freeda’s but the therapist didn’t seem interested or passionate about her job. If you’re bored during a massage, that’s just not right. So, I tried another place with good reviews, and when they asked if I wanted oil or acupressure, I panicked and said oil. Was that the right answer? No, it was not. There was a lot of oil, and not much relief of neck tension. I decided to give that spa a second chance, because it looked great and the price was reasonable, so I chose acupressure the next time. The therapist, a nice lady named Jenny whose only English vocabulary was, “Okay?” knew just where my problems were and had me begging for mercy within two minutes. It was fabulous, but in spite of Jenny’s acrobatics (at one point I felt both her knees in my back at the same time), my shoulder tension didn’t improve that much. Must keep looking.
By the way, beware the “happy ending” massage! Yes, it is what it sounds like. Check reviews before you book a massage, or you might get more than you bargained for. Prostitution is legal in Hong Kong, so something as bengn as a happy ending massage doesn’t even get blinked at. Know before you go.
In Japan, I had a lovely massage with sweet-smelling oil and muted noncommittal music. The only strange thing was that, because the room was so small and the massage table was against the wall, the therapist rubbed me down on one side, then shoved the table to the other side of the room and rubbed down the other side. This happened several times. I learned to hang on when she shifted positions.
I had a pedicure at an expensive salon in Hong Kong, because I wanted to be sure the facility was clean, but it was too expensive and there was NO FOOT MASSAGE. It lasted 15 minutes and cost $60 USD (no polish). Outrageous! I had a cheaper pedicure at Freeda’s, which was adequate but I didn’t go back because it was quite primitive--they put me in a salon chair and brought in a plastic bucket full of hot water. Flimsy massage. There was no magic there.
In Israel, I got a fish pedicure. Frankly, I was a little disappointed with the fish. First of all, the fish tank was in the window of the salon and I had to sit in the window. It felt like being in a dunking booth as pedestrians stopped to ogle me. The human pedicurist wasn’t there, so it was just the fish. The fish were not very cooperative. They nibbled my feet the way cartoon characters nibble corn on the cob, chomping down quickly several times before letting go. They just nibbled any old foot part they wanted, not concentrating on my callouses or dry heels. It felt like tiny electric shocks each time they bit down. After the fish pedicure, my feet felt just the same. Only wrinkled.
I’m not a big makeup-wearer, but I like to keep a lot of protection between me and the sun, and I like to highlight my eyes and lips. In southeast Asia, however, makeup became impossible! The heat and humidity humbled me. I gave up on anything on my skin except sunscreen. I had to use pale lipstick and minimal mascara because the sweat was out of control. I was disgusting.
Speaking of humidity, who knew it could dry out your skin? Well, not the humidity, but the air conditioning with dehumidifiers which are common in southeast Asia. Within a few days of getting to Hong Kong, I realized that my old favorite lotions just weren’t cutting it. I tried other kinds, and realized happily that Hong Kong is the Land of Big Samples. Anytime you buy cosmetics, hair care products, or skin care from a department store or cosmetics shop, they throw in a bunch of extras. I have travel samples to last till June, at least.
When we visited Europe, I began to truly appreciate the pharmacies. They not only stock prescriptions and OTC meds for everything you need, they stock high-quality skin care products that I never buy in the US because they’re too expensive. However, in Vienna, products I’d always heard about but never used were quite affordable, and the pharmacists were knowledgeable and helpful. I stocked up on lots of good stuff, like Avene, Caudalie, and Bioderma. I’m set for good skin!
When I travel, I love going to see the unique and astounding things each country has to offer, like the Eiffel Tower and the Great Wall and owl cafes. However, I also love finding out how regular people go about their days, and getting haircuts and lipstick is a great way to discover that. Being a tourist is fun, but being a normal person is terrific.
PREVIOUS: What to do in Hong Kong (After Shopping, Eating, and Hiking)
NEXT: Movie Review: Beauty and the Beast
Speaking of humidity, who knew it could dry out your skin? Well, not the humidity, but the air conditioning with dehumidifiers which are common in southeast Asia. Within a few days of getting to Hong Kong, I realized that my old favorite lotions just weren’t cutting it. I tried other kinds, and realized happily that Hong Kong is the Land of Big Samples. Anytime you buy cosmetics, hair care products, or skin care from a department store or cosmetics shop, they throw in a bunch of extras. I have travel samples to last till June, at least.
When we visited Europe, I began to truly appreciate the pharmacies. They not only stock prescriptions and OTC meds for everything you need, they stock high-quality skin care products that I never buy in the US because they’re too expensive. However, in Vienna, products I’d always heard about but never used were quite affordable, and the pharmacists were knowledgeable and helpful. I stocked up on lots of good stuff, like Avene, Caudalie, and Bioderma. I’m set for good skin!
When I travel, I love going to see the unique and astounding things each country has to offer, like the Eiffel Tower and the Great Wall and owl cafes. However, I also love finding out how regular people go about their days, and getting haircuts and lipstick is a great way to discover that. Being a tourist is fun, but being a normal person is terrific.
PREVIOUS: What to do in Hong Kong (After Shopping, Eating, and Hiking)
NEXT: Movie Review: Beauty and the Beast
