Eying my messy beard, I thought that a bit of a trim was needed. So, I stopped at a barber’s I’ve been passing on my daily bicycle excursions around the same neighborhoods of my Chiang Mai. Could have gone to a, modern looking, 'western-styled' salon, but feeling adventurous, I parked the bike and got in.
From underneath a dust, or in this case hair, mask, holding scissors and I couldn't really tell what else, the barber invited me to have a seat in his waiting area. The TV was on, and there was a man lying almost horizontally on a proper barber’s chair. Nicely covered with white towels, he was chatting while being worked on. From the look of it, it seemed that there wasn’t much left to do there. Of course, I was wrong, very wrong.
This barber took his time, passing the razor’s sharp edge on areas of the face, the forehead for example, I didn’t realize should warrant a visit from such a awe-inspiring instrument of grooming, or in the hands of recklessness, slicing and dicing. Then scissors went into the nose. The light of a serious lamp was directed to the ears, and unknown tools of the trade appeared. The work was extremely meticulous, and without the slightest sign of haste. One ear at the time. All over each earlobe, and in he went, with long tweezers, and the cotton covered tip of a fine sort of scrapper -looked very much like a tiny antenna.
Forty-five minutes had passed, and I was beginning to worry about my choice. But, I stuck around, and sure enough my turn came, and I walked voluntarily to the chair. In a few words, the barber asked me what it was I was expecting, and I tried to explain that I just, emphasis on just here, wanted him to use his electric buzzer on my beard and mustache. And following a short back and forth volleying of numbers, mostly, 1 and 2, we agreed that he would use a number 1 on the beard, and a 2 on the sideburns. Thus, the world seemed to be a perfect place, filled with understanding and clarity.
Pop went the lever, and flip went the chair. Horizontal position. Surely, I trust this fine man, I thought, in my rather vulnerable position. Although, and in the spirit of honesty, the corner of my right eye was fixated on the drawer where those ear instruments had been stored -you just never know. Anyway, the operations went as follow: Towels. Nothing out of the ordinary. The buzzer. Still fine. Trim. Trim. Trim. Fine. Fine. Fine. Repeat. Still okay. Then came a pause. The barber moved closer to his work bench, and proceeded to prepare himself for the next leg of our journey together.
Thus was applied a substance on the face, along the jaw line, along the inner and outer outlines of the beard, under the nose, above and beneath the lips. The blade came next. First shave for this customer, I wanted to share, but the language barrier wouldn’t permit. So I sat quietly, buzzing with excitement. Excitement lasted for a while, but then, it just had to give way to a sense of wait-a-minute-what’s-going-on-here -I know you’re a perfectionist, a fine craftsman, one might even say, an ‘artiste,’ but I have a tad suspicion that you’ve been going at it with that razor of yours for quite some time now, I mean, and although, I can’t see what you’re up to, I can feel that blade of yours going places where it wasn’t expected, so, what’s the deal?
Needless to say, half an hour later, the chair was raised and I found myself staring at the reflection of a Karim who came looking like a Jesus wanna-look-alike, and was going to leave with a fine very Asia sort of look -go figure. So, with a smile, I paid my dues, said thank you, and walked out of my first Barber experience.
Be well, and when on the unfamiliar path, stay cool and don’t sweat the small stuff.
New look in Chiang Mai
No comments:
Post a Comment