The Texan Brazilian

Warning: This post is about Brazilian Waxes.. you know the ones down there... just a heads up. 

Today was Becca's birthday. Her and Julie had gotten Brazilian waxes while at school and really wanted me to join but I was too scared and chickened out. Well now since it is her birthday and she is nice enough to let us crash at her house while she works in the heat all day. So I figured I would join in on the fun. Carla came along but decided to just get a pedicure. Becca went first because she had to leave early to do another tennis lesson. 30 minutes later she returns with a face that shouted THANK GOD THAT IS OVER with a whisper of I can't wait to see what happens to Rachel. Julie went next. I let her go first because she really really wanted to get it over with plus I was so engrossed in an article about the Kardashians that I didn't mind waiting. Julie walks to the back room and Becca leaves. Now all of a sudden I am sitting in the waiting room all alone reading about Kim Kardashian's engagement and how her mom gave her and her fiance a pair of mini horses covered in glitter. Yup. Glitter Ponies. Her fiance is an NBA player, close to 7 feet tall. No way he could ride those. I would say that a set of Glitter Ponies is probably the worst present anyone could get someone else for that kind of money. Imagine tiny horses walking around pooping, urinating, generally smelling and on top of that they are covered in glitter. Every step they take they leave their marks. Don't even try to ride one because we all know that glitter never goes away. So I guess riding side saddle will be the best bet unless she wants to be vajazzled (putting sticky diamonds/bling in your lady area... I think at one point it was a fad). Even side saddle would be hard for Kim because apparently she has a controversially large butt rumored to be a product of implants. 

Well that was all just a nice tangent to get my mind off of what I was about to put myself through. Not only will I be voluntarily putting myself through all this pain but I will be PAYING! Man, I am so jealous of Carla right now, sitting there, getting a foot massage. I am an idiot. 

This time only 20 minutes go by and Julie is back. O shit. My turn.... 

I walk into the 4x8 room, that is being generous, and the woman is cutting strips of cloth from a roll. Not just a couple strips, it looked like there were dozens. I step up to the table and almost step in the bowl of hot wax that is on the ground. That would have been awful for my beautiful feet. I bet putting the hot wax on the bedside floor is just a ploy to get costumers to get a pedicure as well. Not falling for that one. After avoiding that trap I tell her that this is my first time getting smothered with boiling hot wax and getting my hairs ripped out in the most sensitive part of the body. She acts surprised which scares me but then I realize that she just doesn't speak any english. I guess flinching, clutching, sweating, and screaming are the same in every language. 

And so it starts. The first rip... eh. not that bad. I can do this. No problem. WRONG. The more it is done, the more sensitive the area gets so the more it hurts. A couple rips in and my palms are sweating. She just keeps applying hot wax, rubbing on the cloth, ripping off the cloth and whatever comes with it, and aggressively dabbing the sore area. Then she applies hot wax, rubs on the cloth, rips the cloth off and whatever comes with it, and aggressively dabs the sore area. Get it? Should I go over that again? Well she does and in what seems like the same exact area. I was convinced that she has some sort of obsessive compulsive disorder in which she had to do the same thing three times before moving on. Just when I thought it had to be almost done she would apply what felt like even hotter wax. I guess I grimaced because she said to me, "hot?" I nodded. Next time she decided to blow on the wax covered stick like it was simply some hot soup. You know how that doesn't work for soup and you end up burning your mouth anyways and everything tastes like rubber for a week? Well it also doesn't work for hot wax on a stick. Now I am really in pain. She takes out the scissors and I hear snipping but can't feel it. The pain must be too immense to feel anything. She says to me, "These are inside." Inside? Inside? What does that mean inside? Then I realize it is exactly what you think... inside. Pretty sure scissors aren't supposed to be there, talk about being vulnerable, and those hairs are probably there for a reason. Just sayin'. When is this going to be over already? This must be hell. I went in around 2:45pm, I looked at the clock on the wall, it still read 2:45pm. How is that possible? It seems like at least 20 or 30 minutes has gone by. Nope. Could the clock be broken? What is the point of displaying a broken clock? It's not like this one brought any ascetic value. No time has passed and there is an intensely burning heat in my lower areas. Yep. HELL. 

Turns out the clock was broken because I was in there for 40 minutes! That is twice  as long as Julie. I waddle out of the room. Julie and Carla greet me with huge smiles on their faces. They were chomping at the bit, didn't even have to ask me how it went before I answered, "Everything's bigger in Texas." No, I don't know what that means but it was the only thing that came to mind and somehow seems appropriate.  

HOUSTON... the food and people

Firstly, I'm sorry that I have not been keeping up with the blog. It is hard to keep up with it when my days are so full of driving or other activities and the last thing I would want to do is be anti-social and blog when I'm staying with such interesting hosts. If I were blogging the whole time then I wouldn't have anything to blog about... 

FOOD: 

Hole in the wall.... 

Thats exactly where I like to eat. Usually good food and low prices, both of which are important to me. The later more so than the former but still... Mark took us to a couple places we for sure would not have found on our own. The first place we went to was this authentic Mexican place, for breakfast. It was in a little shop right next to a cleaners and a drive through liquor store. No, I can't remember the name of it... that's because it was in Spanish. The head chef and owner used to be a pastry chef at a very high end country club which was easy to guess because the bread used for the meals was incredible. He talked to every customer who came in with a huge smile on his face, not one of those fake hostess smiles, but a genuine ear to ear grin that only comes from something real. It sounds corny but I don't really know how else to describe it. You could tell that this little place was his pride and joy. The other place we went to was a bar-b-que place called Beavers. Why can I remember the name of this place and not the Mexican place? Well first of all, it is English. Secondly, the owners are a lesbian couple which makes the name, Beavers, significant. If you don't understand the significance, ask a friend or go to urbandictionary.com... warning, it is not PG. And thirdly, there were pictures, paintings, and sculptures of beavers (the animal) everywhere! So it was kinda hard to forget. Mark and I both got burgers... but not just any burger. These had bacon inside the massive beef patties. Carla somehow always finds a way to out do us... She got a chickwich, a pulled bbq chicken sandwich that was taller than her face. I took a picture of her, eyes wide, next to the tower of a meal and sent it to a few mutual friends at 12:12pm. I took a picture of her, with a pained look on her face, next to the empty plate and sent it at 12:22pm. Yup. 10 minutes. You can see from the pictures that Carla is not a big person. Correction. Carla is a tiny person. Her eating skills are a mystery to everyone. 

PEOPLE:

Houston is the first place we stayed without knowing our host prior to visiting. We contacted a classmate in the area but he was out of the country so he connected us to Mark, who is an officer in the Houston Alumni Association. He graduated in 2003, concentrated in history, was a varsity swimmer, and a fellow Cap and Gown member from Minnesota. He was nice enough to let the 3 of us share his huge bed while he slept on the futon for the two nights we were there. He moved to Houston after living and famously working in Singapore as a reality TV host. He went to Singapore after graduating as part of the Princeton in Asia program and while he was on a bus, a man went up to him and asked if he had ever done any television or acting, gave him his card, and then he became the host of a reality show similar to the Batchelorette. He hosted reality TV and did some acting for six years. To his disliking, I enjoyed comparing him to Ryan Seacrest. Mark had the life of a superstar in Singapore but he wanted something different. He wanted to eventually raise kids in America, work and live in America, be in America. He was embarrassed to say but also quick to say that he moved to Houston for a girl. A girl he met in Singapore who was doing graduate studies at Rice University. They are no longer together. He found a good job in Houston working for a tutoring company that was actually founded by Princeton grads from the 80s. He was good at his job but there were a couple things he did not like. He worked nights and weekends, opposite hours of the rest of the world including his ex-girlfriend. He could have done without the weird hours but he had a deeper, moral problem with his work. He felt that he was expanding the inequality in higher education opportunities. He tutored kids in SAT and ACT tests for a crazy high fee. With his services, students could essentially pay for higher standard test scores. He was the problem of unequal resource availability that leads to unequal higher education opportunities. His company would volunteer at lower income schools but he said it was never enough. So he quit. He started his new job on July 5th, from the bottom, as an intern in finance. 

We hung out with a group of 30 year old single people. Yup. People who are not settled with kids (yet). People who are still switching jobs because they want to. Ashley switched between a few law firms because she wanted to do more trial law. She had a good paying, steady job at this one firm but she wanted something different and now she actually enjoys working. Andrew was a Geology major, now lives in Houston and as he puts it, looks for oil all day. These people outgoing, fun, interesting, and optimistic about the future. Their enjoyment of life was contagious. It was great to meet them because they were proof that life after college will be  different but not worse, that being a social sciences concentrator doesn't completely limit my options, that I don't have to worry about having spent all my college summers playing golf, going to asia, and working waitress jobs. 

Next stop.. AUSTIN (well, more like Lakeway). 

Houston... the place

The Drive:
We drove from New Orleans to Houston in about 6 hours. The whole time we continued listening to our book on tape, Rebecca Wells' The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder. We were really into it especially because the setting was New Orleans and having just spent a few full days there, we understood many of the references. I will describe the car set up later but basically it was hard to hear the story. Despite it being hard to hear, it worked well enough for us to be addicted to the story. When I say addicted I mean addicted. Carla who normally sleeps the entire car ride would stay wide awake. We would even drive places just to listen to the book. This means, driving to a park just to sit in a shaded area and listen. It was bad.

Arrival:
We were really lucky to of had such a generous host. Mark is an officer in the Houston area alumni association. He graduated in 2003 and lived in singapore before moving to Houston. We arrived on thursday evening but he had dinner plans (originally we told him we weren't coming until friday. oops.) So he showed us around Mid-Town where we picked a bar called "the front porch," to hang out at while he was busy. One of Mark's friends, another 2003 alum, Andrew, joined us for a while before Mark came by. Andrew was the president of Cloister, a member of the crew team, and was working for Chase as a geo-scientist. Simply put, he looks for oil. Then Josh, a footnote '09, Claire '10, and a few other alum stopped by as well. We proceeded to go bar hopping.

Turtle Racing...
Every Thursday night there is an outdoor bar that has turtle racing. They put 10 turtles in the middle of a circle under a trash bin. Everyone picks a number of the turtle they think will win. A volunteer from the audience lifts up the trash bin and the first turtle that makes it out of the circle wins. When people's turtles get closer to the edge their supporters start cheering. The cheering scares the turtles and makes them slow down. The crowd goes from elated and excited to pissed off. If your turtle wins the most times then you get a free beer. BEST PART: There was a gentleman there holding what looked like his 3 year old daughter. It was midnight. He was going for turtle number 5 and he almost dropped her when his turtle won.

DAS RACIST...
We went to a bar called Cheers. Apparently it was going out of business so they were giving things away and selling everything cheap. Josh and Mark really wanted to play some old drinking games that since our time at school have slowly died. But Carla and I are always up for a game... especially Robo (p-ton version of quarters). For those of you who don't know what robo is, I'm not going to explain it but the objective is the same as any other drinking game you have played... Step one: get some object, whether it be a quarter or ping pong ball or whatever, into a cup of beer. Step two: then drink that cup of beer with the dirty object in it. Step Three: repeat.  We played some robo and then these guys challenged Mark and Josh to a game of Beirut (beer pong). They were winning but had trouble with the last cup. There was a disagreement about rules and Mark was getting frustrated because these guys weren't the brightest nor were they reasonable after drinking so much. So to stop the arguing I stood up, took the ball and made the last cup (of course I'm going to tell you about how good I am... if I didn't you wouldn't think this blog is mine). Bam. Game over. Argument over. time to leave. Not yet... the one guy started telling Mark that he likes him because he isn't like most asians (Mark is asian). O great. Here we go. Mark got all upset so to make him feel better the guy decided to start saying negative things about black people. Really? Mark looked like he was gonna punch the kid but we all just left. The entire walk to the next bar, Mark and Josh were trying to convince us that not everyone around there is like that... a similar incident happened the next night and ended with Ashley '03 telling us the same thing. Houstans? Houstonians?aren't racists! 

Wonder Bar....
? ? ? ?

Ring of Fire...
This is the name of a drinking game similar to the one described above, you know, where you get something into a cup of beer and then drink that cup of beer and then do it again, but the difference is that this game was not introduced on the Princeton campus until spring of 2010 so for Mark and his friends it was completely new. We are always looking for new exciting things to do, new games to play, new ways to party and enjoy each others company. Why? Why not? Maybe we all have adult ADHD? Who knows. Anyways, Carla, Julie, and I introduced this new exciting messy game and everyone loved it. I had forgotten how much fun it could be. We played it so much at school that it got a little monotonous for me, especially because we all got too good at the skill involving Step One: getting an object into a cup. It is a fast paced game and you can really get into it without really realizing your own ridiculousness. Mark would yell absurd things over and over again every time it was his turn. I probably shouldn't say it... which means I'm gonna say it... It was kinda like he had tourrettes.

Conclusion:
Alright, so we go to a bar to watch some turtle racing, drink, listen to some racist people, drink some more, play games, dance a lot (if you were wondering what wonder bar was... it was a club with lots and lots of dancing... see what I just did there? kept you wondering. Clever, I know.), drink a little more, eat pizza, and walk home but those things weren't my favorite parts. I could have been in any city with a bar strip and essentially done the same thing. I have done that same thing in many other places. We would do that every weekend at Princeton. The reason I came on this trip in the first place wasn't to keep doing what I had been doing at school for the past four years. The point of this whole thing was to clear my head, get a slightly clearer idea of what I want to do in the next chapter of my life, meet new people and hear about their experiences, network, see things, explore, be on my own time, and umm... party a little. Who am I kidding, you all know that I like to have a good time. But with that being said, what I really enjoyed out of the trip was simply talking to Mark and his friends. Whether it was by the pool, at the bar, in his apartment, at a hole in the wall restaurant or where ever, I like to hear people's stories. I think I like hearing stories even more than telling them. I know that is hard to believe, I mean look at how long this blog is! Will it ever end? Eventually. 

The next post will be all about the people I met... some of their stories and in particular, why they stuck with me. And a little snippet about food. Can't be on a trip with Carla Chow and not eat!

-Rachel
P.S. I kept hearing from people, after I would tell them that I was stopping in Houston on my way to Austin, that Houston is lame, especially in comparison to Austin. But you know what? I had a great time there. They must have never been to the Wonder Bar.

New Orleans Part III... the last of them

A little bit of everything.

Bourbon Street...
is gross. One walk through was enough. Luckily it had rained heavily so a lot of the stench was washed away. It was pretty exciting at night but not really somewhere that is enjoyed soberly. Every step we took someone would be in our face trying to get us to go into their dirty bar. Because their dirty bar is so much better than the dirty bar right next to it, across the street, upstairs, etc. They would whistle at us with referee whistles, push us towards their bars, and give us passes to go on the balcony.  I felt like I was part of that Dave Chappelle skit when he walks through the internet and is accosted by "pop-ups." I kinda wanted to do what he then did, punch all the pop ups and yell "POP UP BLOCKER BITCH" but I didn't. Regrets.   

Frenchmen Street...
is where you should go if you ever visit here. Live local music. There is a lot going on but it is chill at the same time. We went to the Three muses and the spotted cat. Both of which had great music... a cajun blues style. People were dancing. This one guy was doing the deliverance feet shuffle (from the dueling banjos scene... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tqxzWdKKu8).  I loved it, Carla loved it, Julie was tired but still enjoyed it because that's the kind of atmosphere it was.

Katrina...
6 years later... The storm would come up in conversation at some point every day. The Fausts live near the big lake and although the levees there did not breach, the breach on the 17th street canal affected them as well. When the call for evacuation was given they left their house and went to Dr. Faust's hospital, where they were stranded. They paid a man to take them out of the flooded area in the bed of his pick up truck.  While on the back of the truck, people were angrily yelling at them, "NO SPECIAL TREATMENT!" Alex had to go to a high school in Dallas for a semester which made getting recruited for tennis very difficult. But lucky for them, their house only had about 6 inches of flooding. They told us stories of people looting in their neighborhood and they described the massive piles of debris with everything from tree branches, to clothes, to refrigerators with month old spoiled food inside. There is still no recycling service, many houses have not been taken down and are simply rotting in place, and there is constant work on the levees. There were even still articles in the local paper about incidents that happened during the storm.

Lower ninth ward...
Had a lot of new "green" homes with solar panel roof tops. They were really nice actually and the coolest part was that each one was very unique. None of them were traditional architecture. There were still a lot of steps leading up to empty lots where homes once stood.

The roads...
Have soooooo many pot holes. It made driving actually kinda fun, like a game because the thing about New Orleans, which I like, is that you could be on a road with really nice high end homes and then walk a block to a parallel road and be in a bad area of town lined with dilapidated homes so when driving through pot holes the last thing we wanted was to get a flat tire on a bad block.

Other...
I played some golf. Shot my career low a 61!!!! Ok. par was only 62. But still...

We walked through the garden district. well the lower end part of it cause we didn't actually see any big homes. Just lots of porch sittin.


Next stop: Houston.