One of the hardest things (for me) in moving to a new place is finding someone to cut your hair.
I never know where to go. I’m not really a Barber Shop person…I want an appointment to show up for…I don’t want to wait and read the paper or talk about the government. And the other places (the salons), I never know if it’s a place a man can get his hair cut and pay a man’s hair cut price or if they are going to try to talk me into a facial and a pompadour.
I’m not a complicated haircut person. I just want to arrive, get it cut and get out of their way.
I don’t want a lot of conversation. It makes me uncomfortable. It’s okay, I need no pretense of interest in my life, I just want my hair cut.
The fact that I had my hair cut by the same person for 7 years without knowing her name is proof of this. It’s not that I’m not willing to be friendly, it’s just that I didn’t figure she was interested (I didn’t catch her name the first time she cut my hair and I was too embarrassed to ask) in me, save the $12 plus tip I paid every so often.
(Holli started going there and told me her name is Anna. But she only told me right before we moved here, so I’m back where I started.)
When I was at Casa de Campo, I had my hair cut by a girl named Yvette. It was great. She didn’t speak English. And while my Spanish was okay, we just pretty much skipped the conversation.
(Holli had to tell me her name too.)
