Haircuts, Barbers and Dissonance

Leigh and I decided to get our hair cut today, and we happily went to a place recommended by Marine. It's not the same place she went to, but she had the card of the place so Leigh and I decided to go for it. We made appointments for 2 at 2.

And we went. There were about 10 people at the counter, all of whom seemed to work in the salon. All eyes on us, everyone seemed shocked that two foreigners had stepped in. After a pause, one of the 10 ventured a query "Do you have an appointment?" Affirmative.

So we are led inside, and I take a seat. The hairstylist assigned to me is a dude with a potbelly and too-tight washed out formerly colourful t-shirt. He asks me in rudimentary English what kind of cut I'd like, so I venture my interest in the hair massage, seeing as how Leigh went straight for that service. He goes away and brings back a lady who translated their services: Hair Oil or Spa? Spa, please (don't want weird oils on my head).

I sit there patiently waiting for things to happen. The dude places his hands first on my shoulders. And then moves his palms inwards, his fingers encircling my neck. A beat. Then two. And they don't budge. He's looking at the front desk, distracted and nonchalant. I'm terribly uncomfortable but I'm a guest in this country, and maybe this is their custom... The hands are moving, omg where are they going!? What IS he doing fiddling with my shirt button... AAAHHHH, I'm going to get raped by a blond football-bookie barber in front of everyone in a unisex hair salon!!!

Oh, he's making way for the towel he just tucked into my shirt. Oh shit wait, how much is the hair spa going to cost... okay, I can't ask that, it's too cheap. But it should be alright lah, a haircut can't be that expensive... the max I suppose is Rs. 1,000 and that's about $40. I suppose it's still acceptable going by rates at home. Okay okay.

I get my hair washed "conditioner sir? yes please (is this extra cost)." in a porcelain bowl with an edge that cups my neck a little too hard. He drags my neck up after an towels me off, making me feel like a kid all over again, my head just a bobblehead he tosses around too loosely.

Back in the chair, he pays me no mind, just concerned with the other people in the salon, even as he mixes white gummy stuff, even as he lathers said gum onto my hair, a marinate of cold cream. Next thing I know, he's massaging my head, pushing the gum further into my scalp, mashing it into my follicles, salvaging the receding hairline (might be paranoia, but I think I'm seeing more scalp than hair on the corners).

Then he places his gummy palms onto my neck and massages. Then he takes his hands out of my collar and massages my back. Along the spine, with me half bent across my seat, wondering what kind of hair massage this is - I know I've got a hairy (relatively invisible) back - but how did he know?

After this he brings over that Martian Brain Irradiator found in all salons the world over, and proceeds to let my mayonnaise head steam. Leave to simmer after, remember to add the garnish. I sit there wondering if this experience is worth my head catching fire. How do women leave their heads in that thing?! I got used to it eventually, but by that time the guy comes back and pushes the MBI further down, encompassing more of my head and threatening to singe my ears off, I know I complain bitterly about the cold but cut me some slack dude. He removes it,


And then I get another rinse after the massage, he chops off my hair without even taking the time to look much at what he's cutting, instead paying more attention to the argument brewing between a client and another hairstylist. And then he asks me if I'd like my hair gelled, he gels it without so much as first drying my still-wet (from the post-massage rinse), just-cut hair, or dusting off the excess hair. Then he shows me the back with a large mirror and smiles. I look at him, then ask if I'm done. He smiles, then leans against the table and says I can wait for Leigh there.


All this happens within 30 minutes. Including the haircut. 3 minutes later (like the instant noodles I love so much) Leigh walks up to me stunned. We pay and walk out wondering what the hell we're doing here (I'm stretching it a little here, I have absolutely no idea what Leigh really thought, although I can say for a fact, because I spoke to her, that she had an equally -if not more- interesting time than I did).

Lunch was even funnier. Chicken soups and Mayocalypse Salads.