Garbage overflowing in NY

In retrospect, maybe I should not have chosen a nail salon based on the fact that they had a gorgeous chocolate colored Irish Setter named Pongo working there. For weeks, every time I passed the salon,  Pongo peered out the front window at me keeping tabs on all the people walking near by. I love dogs and trust their opinion about people, so it seemed like the right approach to finding a new place to get my nails done. As a result, at 7 pm last night, I stepped into this lively nail salon not far from our apartment.

Four young women looked up from their clients when I walked in and welcomed me immediately. Already it was an improvement over the last place I went where I felt like I had to clear my throat a few times just to get someone to acknowledge me. A young man sat in the lobby cradling a newborn baby, allowing his wife to get her nails done without interruption. A skittish Chihuahua belonging to the young dad, darted in and out, dragging his leash under all the manicurist’s feet, occasionally catching it on a chair leg and getting stuck before someone set him free again.

The friendly salon owner, wearing more tatttoos than jewelry, got up and ushered me to a chair with a wave of her long rainbow colored fingernails. I wondered if she would actually be able to wield anything more than a file with those decorative nails. Quickly proving that she could, she got started removing my cuticles. Chatty and curious, she kept the converstation going, asking where I was from; why I’d moved to Gijon; whether I had any kids; and why I had chosen her salon? Her laughter filled up the small room as she explained loudly to everyone there, “She chose our salon because of Pongo!” My bet is that Pongo got extra “chuches” (dog treats) as a result of my testimonial.

Grateful to have found a manicurist who wanted to talk, I asked her if she’d been to the U.S.? Disneyworld in Florida and Miami were the two places she had gone on vacation. Turns out she is also a twin and said her sister just became a Mom. Her own baby is a Chihuahua named Washington who isn’t allowed in the salon because of his bad attitude. Instead, he is represented on her bicep with a tatoo of his head. She finished my manicure in record time and asked me to wait for a moment until her employee, Sara, finished with another client and could start my pedicure.

A sweet 22-year-old esthetician, Sara excitedly shared that she was moving into her own one bedroom apartment the following day. Young people in Gijon rarely leave their family home until they either move to a bigger city for work or get married. Reflecting on her own early success, she asked me if it was true that young people her age could easily get work in my country? Some of her buddies moved to Madrid or Barcelona to find jobs. A few of her really brave friends went to the States and got jobs immediately. She thought they were the lucky ones.

The majority of her friends still live at home and neither go to school nor have a job. She said it was not uncommon for kids to finish high school and spend years as “vagos” (bums) living with their parents without any personal direction. In their late 20s or early 30s they finally decide to go back to school or get a job. At that age, without experience or a degree, the opportunities are very limited, she explained. When I said that many kids in the States get jobs and find their own apartments when they are her age, she wished that were the case in Gijon. “They have their own cars too, don’t they?” she asked wistfully.

Sara studied English at the same language school that I attend when she was just 13. Talking to me, she sprinkled her conversation with a few English phrases either to make sure I was understanding her Spanish or to do her own language practice. Since I was a captive audience, she started asking more serious questions. “Is it true that everyone in the U.S. owns a gun? I’ve heard there are lots of accidents with those guns, too. Am I right? It must be so dangerous to live there!”  Sadly, I had to admit, there were likely more intentional shootings than accidents. “Has anyone every pointed a gun at you?” I wished I could say no to that question but remembered an incident that happened when I worked in a fine jewelry store south of Los Angeles.

Changing the subject, Sara pushed on, “I’ve heard there are actually fast food restaurants on every corner! Obesity must be a real challnge because of that.  And because people there don’t walk as much, right? Are there lots of fat people in your country?” Her questions came quickly and without much of a pause for me to answer. My guess was that she had already made up her mind about Americans. She was just asking for validation. “There are lots of homeless people living in tents on the sidewalk in the big cities, too, right? We have a few homeless people but not many here,” she added. “How about drug addiction? Is that the main reason for homelessness in the U.S.?”

The questions were difficult for me to answer, without feeling sad and slightly embarrassed. Is this what the world thinks of our Sweet Land of Liberty now? After all, she is a young person in a small city in northern Spain. If this is her opinion, I’m sure there are many others who share her beliefs. I’ve personally pushed these problems out of my mind, focusing only on things I miss about home: our friends, our community, the yoga studio, the view of Mt. Rainier when the clouds lift, the long walks we took along the Tacoma waterfront and of course, Ellenos lemon curd Greek yogurt.

Sara said she got her impression of life in the U.S. from reading the news and watching movies that take place in the U.S.. In spite of her major concerns though, she still wants to visit New York someday. During the remainder of my pedicure, I shared what I loved about the Pacific Northwest, describing Mt. Rainier and the Puget Sound and explaining how much Asturias reminds us of the Pacific Northwest. Just like in Gijon, I told her, “our old hometown of Tacoma is located where the mountains meet the water.” She added, “At least you are safer here, now.” I wanted to change the narrative about the U.S. but she was not buying it. Her mind was made up.

When it was time to leave, I noticed that the polish on my toes looked like I had attempted to do my own pedicure after drinking one too many vinos. Should I have steered Sara clear of those challenging topics and kept her focused on my toes? If I were strictly grading this salon on the manicure and pedicure, I would give them only one star. It didn’t matter though. For only twenty euros, I got an hour of conversational Spanish practice with really friendly, inquistive strangers and a few delightful minutes petting Pongo. A bargain even with the tough questions and the likelihood that I will have to have my polish redone soon. What did I expect? After all, I picked the salon because they have an Irish Setter working there!

Author’s Notes:

Want to experieince life in Asturias for yourself? Join us for the Spain Hiking & Yoga Retreat September 18-25, 2021. https://globalyogatrips.com/yoga-hiking-in-northern-spain/