Naturally, you always want to look your best on the road. You are, after all, an ambassador of your country, and you want to put forward your best foot so as to show your hosts that you are worthy and respectful guests. But seriously, who are we kidding? COVID accustomed us all to a new, lower level of effort. And, with the exception of Oxford, we haven’t spent a lot of time with other people recently. Which means that we can be as sloborific as we like. Not in terms of personal hygiene, just in those ways that you might choose to take more, or less, care with your appearance. Which brings us to the subject of the haircut.
Laurel has decided that she is growing her hair out on this trip. Lucky her. John would like to do that too. But (a) he hasn’t done that since the 1970s (a particularly unfortunate decade, as those who have lived through it know); (b) his hair is unruly if it gets to be longer than about three inches; (c) he knows Laurel would come up with some hurtful nickname and never let go of it. Which brings us (more specifically, him) to the barber shop.
So far John has received four haircuts in ten months. This is not often enough, and there was a shaggy period in Istanbul when he attempted all manner of cover-up: water, gel, fezzes… He was understandably hesitant to entrust his head to someone with little English: anything could happen! (We take seriously our role as international fashion icons.) In Oxford, this wasn’t a problem, since he could make himself understood despite his thick accent. The issue in Oxford was the barber himself, who approached cutting hair with the entrepreneurial spirit of a scyther in the fields. Mercifully, he finished in about 7 minutes (cost: about US$18). And John emerged with the same number of ears that he entered with.
So close to the bone was the Oxford treatment that nothing further was required for two months in Oslo. John was able to postpone his next haircut until Helsinki. Here he found a very nice young man who, without a lot of English, communicated well enough. This was the first time John experienced what seems to be a characteristic feature of his European clippings. The Helsinki barber had done a fine job after about fifteen minutes; John liked the result. The professional, however, continued to find things to do in the vicinity of John’s head, with a clip-clip there and a buzz-buzz there. John kept thinking, ‘He’ll finish NOW’. But it took another twenty-five minutes! It was indeed a good haircut (cost: about US$40), but it wasn’t entirely clear what the additional time had accomplished. [Note for female readers: men’s haircuts are not typically an all-day experience…]
John had a reprise in Istanbul. He had taken the precaution of finding an English-speaking barber online (there was nary a one in our neighbourhood). And this had the pleasant result of leading us to Teşvikiye, a neighbourhood we might otherwise have missed. Labour is cheap in Turkey, so the barber had an assistant. This lad had such tasks as washing the customer’s hair and bringing an assortment of tools at the master’s request. This was a truly elaborate ordeal, lasting almost an hour (!) with (again) an interminable amount of fussing around the edges. Also lots of powdering. John couldn’t really tell the difference between minute 55 and minute 15. And the haircut cost about US$12 for what was really two hours of those young men’s time. What a bargain!
Which brings us to Lemesos (the Turkish haircut did not last months.) After some amusing exchanges with Russian-speaking barbers, John found his man. He brought a picture of himself with a haircut of some years ago that he liked (why hadn’t he thought of this before?), showed it to the young man, and he was off. Oddly enough, he did not cut John’s hair as in the picture, but he nonetheless did a great job — certainly the best haircut so far on the road. But once again, it took about 40 minutes (and cost about US$25).
Of course, getting a haircut in another country is hardly a major matter (even if it takes hours). But as with everything we’re doing, it’s interesting to see how things are different across the world. What the haircutters in Helsinki, Istanbul, and Lemesos have in common is that they do their job professionally (no offense to the Oxonian barber). And while one might get fidgety in one’s seat after twenty minutes, it is nice to see that the men cutting your hair consider it important; they want it to be just right. It would be to much to call this a humbling set of experiences, but it has reminded us, again, of the importance of being present to the everyday. Stay tuned for more tonsorial tales!
