It’s always interesting to go to a hairdresser in a different country, or even to go to a hairdresser from a different country in your own country.
I clearly remember the first time I went to a Turkish hairdresser in The Netherlands. As a student, I didn’t have a lot of money to spend on haircuts, so I went to a Turkish one, since they’re a lot cheaper. After he was done cutting my hair, he pulled out a metal stick with some cotton on it. He dipped it in some liquid and I assumed it was to clean the equipment. He then lit the cotton on fire! Now I was very surprised and quite anxious about what he would do next. He then stepped back behind me in that typical hairdresser manner of manoeuvring and started making quick strokes along my face with the burning end of the stick, quickly followed by what can be best described as soft slaps (either because he could get away with it, or to prevent my face from catching fire). I hardly ever find the opportunity to use the word flabbergasted, but that time I was completely flabbergasted by the hairdresser’s shenanigans with his grooming paraphernalia.
Over time I got used to it and quite appreciated it. A warning when he did it the first time would have been nice, but I might have politely declined and missed out on all the adventure. 😉
Another ‘odd’ experience I had with hairdressers was this summer in Strumica, Macedonia. I entered the smallest hairdressing shop I’ve ever been to and it was almost like the scene of a movie like Hostel. Very Eastern European. Very cool. You can read about it here: Strumica: Last Days (incl. pictures!).
So today I got my hair cut here in Istanbul… and it was about time. I decided to go with a simple shave. First I haggled a bit about the price… “Hayır. Benim arkadaş… beş lira!” (“No. My friend… five lira.”) We agreed upon a more reasonable price and he did his job. At the end there was no burning stick, but he did something I haven’t encountered before. He got some cotton out, which immediately made me think he would do the burning stick thing, but then he put the cotton on a comb and held it under the tap for a second… He then combed through my hair a bit. I suppose it was to get all the little hairs out.
So what about your foreign hairdresser experiences? How about in your country? Anything that foreigners would consider ‘unusual’?
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