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Bac Ha, Vietnam
Having an unfamiliar barber have a go at one’s hair can be a tremendous exercise in trust, particularly on the road.
The challenge may come on account of the barber being untested in the style we seek. Or, it may come in the form of a mangy dog on the floor, used razors on the counter, or knowing that the comb—which just scraped across another customer’s head but never made it into the sanitizer solution (since there was none)—is about to run across your own noggin. Sometimes there is even a political angle: Ever sat in a barbershop in Saudi Arabia and looked in the mirror (at your American face) as a Pakistani, just before tilting your head back to expose your trachea, sharpens a straight razor in preparation for your shave?
In Thailand once, with no warning, a woman stretched my nostrils wide open, the better to trim my nose hairs. Then in Turkey a man put a lit match into my ear, though I no longer recall if it was to singe hair or get at wax. And one chilly autumn night in China, wanting to try a new look, I asked that I be shaved completely bald. This, unfortunately, had the effect of nearly leaving the barber in tears as she imagined the visual monster I’d possibly be. And that shave in Saudi Arabia? The friendly barber did a fine job, and through his stories I learned a little about what it means to be a migrant worker far from home.
Barbershops, these wonderful windows into local culture where you can also get your hair cut, are one of the many reasons to travel. And if you believe traveling is done best when it involves your whole being, your hair will most certainly be involved, and some of it left behind.
And if you’re male, you may even come to consider no journey complete until a stranger puts a blade to your neck.
October 22nd, 2009 at 1:55 pm
Haha, thanks for the lovely little article!
I have been shaving my own hair for a few years and have often wondered what it would be like to have to get my hair cut wherever I went…I was considering growing it again and I’m not yet sure whether you have convinced me to keep it shaved or grow it long and prepare for razor blades in strangers’ hands.
October 23rd, 2009 at 12:13 am
The razor blade to your neck is the ultimate sign of trust…I’ve done it a few times and I always leave sweating.
October 23rd, 2009 at 1:30 pm
Haha, I can relate to this as well! Who knew such a simple task could be such a source of adventure and inspiration. It’s a great way to relate to people because almost everyone in the world gets their hair trimmed in one way or another. No language skills required. (and in my opinion it’s more fun that way.) Joel, I had the flaming cotton swab of death shoved into my ear in Turkey as well. BEST HAIRCUT EVER.
October 31st, 2009 at 10:33 am
Once an Indian barber sculpted my beard into a bit-too-devilish-for-my-taste point. But soon after, I noticed a change from the days of the untamed beard: Lots of mustached Indians were now starting up conversations on the particulars of facial hair ownership.
What I’d written off as a disappointing cut led to connections that otherwise wouldn’t have been made. So it seems that what might initially appear as a botched haircut actually can help close the distance between strangers.
Right on. Did you ever end up doing the bald thing?
November 11th, 2009 at 2:11 am
Hi Brett – The Chinese lady did, after expressing her opposition, shave my head. It worked out just fine.
March 10th, 2010 at 12:01 pm
[...] we bring upon ourselves. The trip to the barber. What we accidentally step in. The foray into public transportation. The first bite of street food. [...]