Saturday, May 30, 2009

The Barber Shop

I've been going to the same barber shop as Marlo now for 4 months. Its a nice little place 10 steps down the street from our market. Inside there are 5 chairs, 2 TVs, and lots of mirrors. The walls are cream colored, as are the tiles on the floor. Its in a row of 5 barber shops and it seems like most people just pass ours by. Maybe its facilities aren't as nice, or maybe people just don't like the guys who work there, or maybe they just have a small and devoted clientele. For whatever reason there's never a line.

It may be small and stuffy and is certainly no salon, but the barber shop is constantly one of my favorite places here. When I walk in, my barber is always available and quick to get me into the chair. He knows exactly how I want my hair cut, and goes straight to work. He doesn't know my name and I don't know his. He doesn't ask me questions about my work, where I live, what I do, why I'm here. I don't have to speak in another language. I don't have to speak in English. The most communication is when I give a slight nod to indicate that my bangs are even.

When he's satisfied with his work he dusts off my neck and gives my shoulders a little massage. We both silently agree that my hair is as good as its going to get on this occasion. I pay. I walk out the door and hope my hair grows fast.

1 comment:

Loren said...

Aw, that's cute. I've designated Christina as my official hair cutter because she's the only one that's done a good job on it so far. So, I guess, no hair cut for me until MST.