So I Got My Hair Cut
I ventured into a salon that looked posh enough to do a decent job but not so much that it would cost me a weeks worth of food. I’ve gotten quite good with greeting people in German so they usually just start talking to me as though I spoke the entire language. Sometimes I let them go but this time I asked if they had someone who spoke English. As there were only two men working he beckoned for the other guy to come over. Apparently he spoke a little English. That would have to work. The only problem was that he was bald. Call me crazy but there’s just something about trusting a bald hairdresser who doesn’t speak a common language to cut my hair. It’s just hair. It will grow back. That’s what I kept telling myself.
We tried to have a conversation. Parts of it were more successful than others. In a nutshell, he is originally from Cologne but spent an undetermined period of time in Miami, New York and Cuba. His mother is from France and his father is from a country I can’t pronounce. The good news is that he’s been doing this for 25 years. I felt a little better.
About half way through the process a strange looking man came in with a suitcase and he was wearing a single glove. I wanted to snap a picture but figured it would be rude. The man who was cutting my hair seemed to purchase two bottles of cologne from him while he continued to snip at my head. 20 minutes later the process was complete. I actually really like the way it turned out. It’s much shorter than I usually have it cut.
Lesson of the day: sometimes you really can trust a bald hairdresser.
One Comments
I like it!