Haircut On a warm afternoon in early autumn, soon after I arrived in Beijing, I was walking through a languid park near the Forbidden City when I heard someone call to me. It was a street barber, an old man in a Mao jacket. He had set up a chair beneath a tree, and he wanted my head of hair. "No way, Jose," I told him. And promptly fled. Anyone who has seen an occasional photograph of me on this website will know that I sport a truly proud and unruly mop of hair. Once upon a time -- thirty years ago or so -- this thing I call my hair was a fashion statement, I suppose, and a bit of rebelliousness. Today it is simple laziness and unconcern. And as a self-employed person, a writer, I don't have to please anyone but myself. But generally there comes a morning when I look in the mirror and acknowledge that Something Has To Be Done. Shaggy hair doesn't bother me, but my thick mop starts making me look like Albert Einstein on a bad day with his finger in an electric socket. I began to meditate about a possible haircut in October. Usually I give the urge a few months to grow and mature before I finally break down and visit a barber. But in China I had an additional cause for procrastination: Where would I go for my haircut? And how would I tell the barber not to leave me bald? Every day, I passed dozens of street barbers in Beijing, men who simply set up their trade on the sidewalk -- very quaint to watch, but I wasn't about to risk my own fine head of hair in such a manner. Nor was I at all certain about the various "Beauty Salons" I saw, particularly since the Chinese often spell "salon" as "saloon" -- and as someone who grew up in the American West, this did not seem a promising start. Finally it was my wife who spurred me into action. She decided she could no longer put off having her own hair done; she phoned a good Chinese woman friend of hers, and made a Saturday appointment for the two of them to go together to a joint-venture Sino-Japanese all-sexes-welcome hairdresser that my wife's friend swore by. Timidly I asked if I could, well, ah, ahem . . . if I could come and have my hair cut too.
Now that I have done it, I wonder why I put it off so long. The beauty parlor turned out to be a comfortable, modern place with pop music on the stereo, and magazines full of beautiful people with fabulous hair styles from which to choose the New You -- pretty much like similar hair dressing establishments around the planet. A very nice young man took me in tow, and we began with a shampoo. Back home, I have a lady barber who rubs my head a little in a relaxing manner when she shampoos my head -- but this shampoo came with an authentic head massage that went on for nearly ten minutes and left me limp with pleasure. Then I got bundled up in towels and led back in front of the mirror. I was clipped and trimmed and worked upon for another half hour or so, while our Chinese friend helped with an occasional translation. "No, no more off the top . . . yes, a bit more from the sides, please . . . perfect!" In the end, I was very pleased indeed. For the price of 30 yuan I look almost exactly like I did before, but subtly neater and better groomed. Now I think you could accurately describe my appearance as Albert Einstein on a good day with his finger in an electric socket. It's very hip, the Mad Genius look, and I recommend it highly. So I'm a happy camper, and I plan to get another Beijing haircut soon, probably in a year or so. Next Week: Hard Sleeper, Part One From the Editor in Chief: If you have some travel or work experience in China to share with us, we will be very excited to hear from you! Send your feedback by e-mail or regular mail to ASM Overseas Corporation. Thank you! And if you liked this column, please check Expats In China (International Community in China) for more interesting and useful information on life in China as a foreigner, including calendar of events, entertainment, housing, employment, classifieds, personal, etc. |
