. . . and a Haircut, Two Bits (or $2)
With my new(ish) short doo I need a trim every six weeks or so to combat against a raging case of the mullet. Spending seven weeks in China meant that even with a pre-trip cut, I was getting a little shaggy toward the end. So I did what any good high-maintenance girl would do in a country where she doesn’t speak the language—I strolled through the local hutong and plopped myself in a chair at one of the (seemingly) bazillion hair salons in Beijing. I did my best to say yiyang—the same, and yi dian—a little. The stylist looked at me, we smiled, and I hoped for the best. There were plenty of people in the city with cute short haircuts, which was a comfort. A concern though, was the equal amount of dramatic and angular precision cuts in abundance. For example, if there was something appealing about the female crew cut complete with spiked bangs and accompanying two-foot rat tail I’d seen on the subway the day before, it was lost on me (Note: this was not an attempt at a punk rock look, trust me).
Fortunately, things turned out all right. When was the last time you could say that about a hair cut that cost $2? Though my stylish didn’t speak any English and my hair salon Chinese didn’t go far beyond “good!” and a thumbs up, we made it work. But, the best part of the experience may have been before the actual cut. While seated in a chair nowhere near a sink, I received a shampoo and head scratch/massage that would make a dog’s leg spasm. With only a glob of shampoo on the back of my head, a few spritzes from a water bottle, and 10 magic fingers, the shampoo boy created a nice foam mountain on top of my head which he began to work from the front to the back. When he finished and I awoke from my head-scratch-induced near-coma, he led me to the orange-walled, golden Buddha, sink room in the back, for a rinse. Try and top that on Newbury Street.
Your Comments
Nothing yet.