Since living in Thailand, I haven't had the most pleasant experiences with hair dressers, barbers, stylists--whatever you want to call them. Initially, I had friends here who had hair-trimming skills--better than Edward Scissorhands. But all of these friends have left (I know what am I doing here?!)
There are times when I trim my own mane when my hair ain't too long, but there are times when I NEED a 'professional' to keep it under control. Here are two of the experiences.
1. At "Together" Salon. This hairdresser (guy) boasts a lot because a lot of us foreigners come to his shop for a hair cut. I stopped going to this establishment because I didn't feel quite "together" with the owner. One day, I came in wearing a Fedora. It was summer, I was protecting my precious face from being exposed to the heat. After finalizing a customer's hair, he welcomed me to the chair. I took out my hat as I walked over and ruffled my sweaty hair/scalp. He eye-balled my head of hair. The looked into the mirror at me. We both were looking at each other in the mirror. Then he said, in his meager English, "Ten years, helicopter." Then he did a landing motion of a helicopter with his hand on my head. Now, why would he say that to a customer. I never went back.
2. "Sunflower" This hairdresser (lady) has been cutting hair of many friends. She spoke better English so I thought that I would be better off at this place. I went there one afternoon after work. I was the only customer. She got me to sit and place my head over the sink while she rinsed off all the dirt and grime from my hair after working for 8 hours. She washed my hair four times. FOUR TIMES. With what I am not sure of. She massaged my head, which was great. But then she made her way down to my face. This was at a time when I was having a breakout and there were tiny pimples forming constellations across my face. After drying my hair, she ushered me to the chair and there she chopped away, while I dozed. When she was finally done. She went to a shelf towards the back and took out several products. She came back to me, fully intending to sell me at least one of this miracle cosmetic. She said that I had too much pimples. "Huh, really?" I said. She also said that I am balding. "Okay, I'm never coming back."
Maybe I'm too sensitive. I don't know. Maybe I have to accept nature's course and live with the fact that I do have a high forehead. Hey, in China, those with high foreheads are considered smart!
:D
There are times when I trim my own mane when my hair ain't too long, but there are times when I NEED a 'professional' to keep it under control. Here are two of the experiences.
1. At "Together" Salon. This hairdresser (guy) boasts a lot because a lot of us foreigners come to his shop for a hair cut. I stopped going to this establishment because I didn't feel quite "together" with the owner. One day, I came in wearing a Fedora. It was summer, I was protecting my precious face from being exposed to the heat. After finalizing a customer's hair, he welcomed me to the chair. I took out my hat as I walked over and ruffled my sweaty hair/scalp. He eye-balled my head of hair. The looked into the mirror at me. We both were looking at each other in the mirror. Then he said, in his meager English, "Ten years, helicopter." Then he did a landing motion of a helicopter with his hand on my head. Now, why would he say that to a customer. I never went back.
2. "Sunflower" This hairdresser (lady) has been cutting hair of many friends. She spoke better English so I thought that I would be better off at this place. I went there one afternoon after work. I was the only customer. She got me to sit and place my head over the sink while she rinsed off all the dirt and grime from my hair after working for 8 hours. She washed my hair four times. FOUR TIMES. With what I am not sure of. She massaged my head, which was great. But then she made her way down to my face. This was at a time when I was having a breakout and there were tiny pimples forming constellations across my face. After drying my hair, she ushered me to the chair and there she chopped away, while I dozed. When she was finally done. She went to a shelf towards the back and took out several products. She came back to me, fully intending to sell me at least one of this miracle cosmetic. She said that I had too much pimples. "Huh, really?" I said. She also said that I am balding. "Okay, I'm never coming back."
Maybe I'm too sensitive. I don't know. Maybe I have to accept nature's course and live with the fact that I do have a high forehead. Hey, in China, those with high foreheads are considered smart!
:D
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