Wednesday, 1 January 2014

Turkish hair cut

The Turkish breeze hairdo was a bit shaggy in the cosmopolitan vibe of an 18m person city. Why not kill some time here with a haircut vs do it at home?  It was an experience like no other haircut I've ever had.

The guy asked what I wanted I said shorter and "Istanbul style". He used the back of his fingers along my head to feel it's shape and suggested "balance up". 

He called over the assistant who had a quad folding stainless steel case of combs, knives and scissors. I got misted down, combed into sections, then the art began. Half was scissors, half was knife. It took shape. We made small chitchat about how it was living in such an enormous city with predictable output - culture and options great and wide open, commuting is a chore that is awful and time consuming. I'll vouch for that just from our airport trip. 

He proclaims finished and calls over the assistant who moves me to washing. This is intense shampooing with a head massage of great force that went on for quite some time. My folio les have never experienced such force. 

After drying I got back to the barber chair. Assistant put cotton balls in both ears, then tucked my collar in and re-wrapped me.  A bottle of yellow stuff came out and got squeezed onto the top of my head. I was again soaked, and it was something reminiscent of citronella, very lightly oily. He proceeded to vigorously send the oil flying with grazing slapping motions that barely touched my skin but flew through my hair to dry it. His eyes were closed, it was flying all over the mirror, but he was sending it flying faster than it could run down to my ears or eyes. Unreal. I was in a vigorous lemony haze. 

This left my hair dry, with body, and scented. He then pulled pasted out of an unmarked tub and did the finishing touches. 

Voila. Cindy immediately said I smelled tantalizingly complex, fresh and citrusy. 

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