Originally posted August 22, 2007 on my other blog, http://360.yahoo.com/maxwell_woodsI knew I should have turned around and walked out of the salon when I saw the haircut being given to the lady occupying the chair. But I didn’t. The lady with the huge Bulgarian-maroon afro was finished, apparently, and the hair cut woman whisked me into the awaiting chair. And look at me now. I have no hair. Here’s how it happened.
I’ve been here more than two years now, and getting a haircut is still one of the most challenging tasks I have to undertake. Back in Svishtov, it took me at least half a dozen trips to my lady Nina before she finally understood what I wanted – and actually gave it to me. Nina was awesome, even if her haircuts weren’t. And now in Dupnitsa, I have to start all over. Yesterday I trudged around town in the 100 degree heat looking for a place to get a cut. The first place was closed for the day. The second had the lady with the BG afro.
The hair cutting lady sat me down, tied on that plastic cape that is supposed to protect your clothes from hair, and fired up the clippers. And away she went, cutting out a huge chunk halfway up the side of my head. “Like that?” she asked. My hair was already on the floor before I could squeeze out in my broken Bulgarian “um, just a little bit shorter, please,” but it was way too late. She repeated it back to me, “ah, a little bit shorter,” but it was more as if to mock me, not to honor my request. This lady was giving me a buzz, and that was that. It was over in three minutes. It’s not even a good buzz cut, there are little clumps of long hair across my head and she didn’t even bother to square off the neck.
“Now you’ll be cool in this summer heat,” she told me when finished, smiling at her work. Yes, I meekly replied, I guess I will. “All the Bulgarian women will want the good looking American boy,” said one of the ladies sitting in the waiting area. “Sure they will,” I pitifully laughed. “You look like you have a defect,” said the other lady in the waiting area, “that’s the haircut we give to my grandpa.” My, aren’t Bulgarian’s blunt, I thought. I didn’t ask the obvious question, does your grandpa have a defect?
The hair cut lady told me to have a nice day, and I felt like she meant it. She seemed happy with the results. I paid her five leva, which is way too much, and wished I had brought a hat. At least I won’t have to worry about my hair for a few months.
