A manicure in Baku: 20 simple steps.

1. Decide you want a manicure, because your nails bear witness to your anxiety in this place.
2. On your way home from the gym, walk into a place that, while there is no signage whatsoever, you know to be a nail bar because your friend figured this out.
3. Realize after much gesturing, a few words, that you can’t just walk in and need to phone in for an appointment. Niet way that will happen.
4. Google “nail salon near BulBul”; a search which proves fruitless due to your lack of Russian and poor sense of direction.
5. Ask your local coordinator to find you a place to go. Feel badly for having her do such a menial task.
6. She books an appointment, you conquer side streets to find your way there (10 minutes late).
7. Upon arrival, heavily made up women glare at you, shoo you in the direction of “manikur”.
8. Meet manicurist. She doesn’t speak a word of English; my Russian is lacking.
9. Try to explain that I want “short nails”. Blank stares, gestures, an English speaking person brought in to help.
10. “Ah, you are the Canadian, yes?”
11. Short nails, I am told, are ugly.
12. I win the battle for short nails.
13. My delightful Russian manicurists aggressively files down my nails, “tsskking”, all the while.
14. I pick a colour.
15. There is more “tsskking”. A very firm, “Niet.”
16. Manicurist gets up, rummages around in a drawers, produces 3 colours to choose from, paints them on my nail. None of them resemble what I chose IN THE SLIGHTEST.
17. I go with the least offensive. “Da,” is the response.
18. Manicure ends, manicurist gets on the phone, hands me a scrap of paper with “17” on it,  gives me the hand gesture to shoo.
19. Turn in paper, pay 17 manats (roughly $15).
20. Leave, with nails that are short and bright pink.

Close enough, da?