It looked a little chancy going in. The salon looked a little girly, but advertised on the door that it served both men and women. It struck the balance between looking nice enough to be credible, but average enough to be inexpensive.
Several of the women who worked at this hair cutting establishment on one of the main streets of Vientiane were sitting around Lao-ing - chillin' and chatting intermittently. I asked in my odd Thai-Lao if they had electric clippers and could shave both my head and face.
They all pointed to the woman whose turn it was for the next customer. She rose silently and confidently. Without confusion or concern, she said it would be no problem.
I'm used to confusion and miscommunication, so I didn't fully believe she understood my request - especially since I only knew the words for face and hair, but not specifically beard or shave. When I lived in Thailand, I always shaved myself, so I never needed to learn.
Then my stylist opened up her drawer with five professional grade hair clippers, and things were looking up. We went over my request - no guard for head and face except for mustache and goatee which get #1 guard. She help up the right guard, mimed the right lines on my face - and got to work.
Cool as a cucumber, seemingly without effort, not a strain of thought or sign of focus on her face, my hairstylist shaved my head and face - perfectly. While my Thai barber looked like he was Michelangelo sculpting a masterpiece - and was incredibly detailed - this woman looked more like she was rolling paint into a wall or casually icing a cake while chatting with her friends.
Nonetheless, zen-master that she was, my stylist did a perfect job. I mean perfect. Perhaps the highest level of detail of the trip, rivaling the Thai and Turkish barbers - only she appeared to give it no more thought that tying her shoes - which might actually take more thought for her, since she probably never wears laced shoes.
In short, my stylist was Lao-ness at its finest.
For her skills which looked as if she peacefully channeled them from the heavens, I paid $12.50.
I wish I could report Hong Kong has gone as well. Having been a little lazy about getting to a barber, I'm somewhat desperate for a shave and would ideally like to do it before our flight Sunday night. Unfortunately, I have been rejected by five establishments now.
It seems that a barber pole in Hong Kong indicates any type of haircutting establishment - including nice salons. I spent time this afternoon scouring the streets of Kowloon for a plain ol' barber. I chose places that looked not too fancy. I have basic needs, so I aim for a basic barber.
Three salons rejected me for shaving. They all looked as if I had asked them to commit a crime when asked if they could shave my beard with the same clippers as they were willing to use on my head. In all three cases, it was midday and the shops had several people sitting around idle. But no deal.
I hunted through the side streets - the narrow ones where you can find knock-off luggage and cheap Chinese manufactured souvenir crap. I went to the places where locals eat in small soup and noodle shops.
I finally found a shop that looked promising. It was nice, but not too fancy - they seemed to live in the Supercuts range. Perfect. Only while the sign said "Open", the door was locked. I rang the doorbell. A guy came to the door, let me in and then explained that they were unable to cut my hair.
When I asked why, another gentleman came up, flashed his ID badge and said, "There was a recent break-in here. I'm Hong Kong Police. We need to keep the shop closed while we do the report."
They were very apologetic and asked me to return later in the day if I could. They seemed willing to do the work including the beard. I just had bad timing.
One salon directed me back to the block where Emily was waiting for me. We set up shop today at a Starbucks (I use "a" because there are at least three) in the Harbourplace Mall at Tsim Sha Tsui in Kowloon. Our Starbucks is at the very end of this mall build over a pier and we have an amazing view through ceiling to floor windows of Hong Kong Harbor and Island shimmering in the sun.
As my newly found barber rejection complex set in, I made my way back to our "office" of the day. I checked the streets and eventually the mall directory. The mall customer service people directed me to a hair cutting place I thought they said was called "Razor" - perfect! It was Aveda. Great if you're Emily. But I didn't have to ask to know, I'm not Aveda salon material.
So, I headed back through the enormous mall complex to our Starbucks. Along the way, I passed yet another Aveda salon. "What's another rejection? I might be surprised," I thought. So I asked and was indeed rejected - but kindly offered a facial instead. I wasn't sure how that would work with my beard that they wouldn't trim, so I moved on.
Given our limited time left in Hong Kong and the fact that shaves don't seem to be common here - perhaps because men don't have much facial hair - I may just go scraggly to Boston and turn myself in to a real Supercuts or generic equivalent.
A year's worth of barbering adventures ends on an odd and low note as the barbering elite of Hong Kong chewed me up and spit me out.
In each country, we purchase a decorative item for our future home, a cookbook and a dress for Emily (which sometimes becomes pluralized). As a result, we have had to occasionally unload some ballast and send packages home. We also get the occasional gift for people - and send those too.
As a result, we've visited a lot of post offices and I've mentioned a few highlights over the course of he year - such as the awing experience we had in Mumbai (http://unfoldingworld.typepad.com/our_first_year_everywhere/2010/12/a-stitch-in-time.html).
As we tie up various matters from the year, I want to return to post offices for a moment. For anyone who should need to know, the post offices of France, Hong Kong, Singapore and Thailand are delightful.
In fact, Hong Kong and Singapore are not only easier to use, but they offer faster service and lower rates than most of the postal services in Asia. Emily had a little bit of difficulty in Singapore with an older postal worker who became annoyed with her for not being "prepared" - aka not knowing the system. However, in my experience, most of the Singapore Post people are very helpful and they actually have a system - which is more than many countries we've visited.
The postal counter people in Bangkok - who were sitting around doing nothing both times I visited the post office - happily packaged up all our items, chatted merrily and helped me find the best rates for each item. They did all the work and had simple forms. Although Thailand Post is a little pricey, the air packages arrived a week later - faster than promised. The sea mail took 1.5 months longer than quoted.
Turkey was a little confusing because the English wasn't great. But the lines were super-quick and the postal people were as helpful as possible. The rates were reasonable and service was good. In terms of ease, it was surprisingly great despite not being the nicest looking of the postal administrations....
Greece was almost at the cusp of greatness. In Rhodes, they had a hillarious man who not only sold, but created packaging. We gave him our items and he made customized boxes for each - cheaply. Afterward, we took a number, didn't wait too long and a very nice lady quotes us reasonable rates for our air mail. She then practically covered each package with stamps, because they don't used computerized postage systems. Items arrived in about 10 days and all was well.
That's why we were so shocked in Patmos when the three employees of their tiny post office refused to sell us packaging and directed us to beg the man at the nearby supermarket for discarded boxes. In the end, we had to change a few of our gift items so we could use padded envelopes - which the stationery store sold us cheaply. The supermarket man was low on boxes and in the end, the postal people refused to allow a bottle of olive oil to ship. The packages still arrived - covered in stamps - in a timely manner. We were less than impressed after an hour of running around, begging for boxes and bargaining to allow our packages to be sent.
Then there was India. Crazy-ass, bureaucratic, you need a user manual and a vicodeine to get through it - India. We played along and had an amazingly interesting experience in Mumbai, however in Udaipur we left. In fact, we paid three times as much to send our package DHL mainly to avoid the post office. I have never seen such disorder and a lack of humanity in a government office. It was like a pack of dogs attacking an injured deer - only it was a postal counter.
The Vietnam Post was so complicated and the workers so harsh that Emily nearly cried. Other customers cut ahead of her and the people at the counter acted as if she was invisible. It took her an hour to send her packages. When Emily came back to the cafe where I was working, she looked shaken. Somehow, the Vietnam Post had insulted her dignity and beaten her up a little.
And then there was Poste Lao - which posts a chart on how they send international packages to their destinations. Not surprisingly, it doesn't matter where your package is headed, Poste Lao tosses everything on the morning Thai Airways flight to Bangkok and basically hands over the packages Thailand - which operates a real postal service.
Despite this, Poste Lao was amazingly easy to use. We sent a fairly sizable package from Vientiane and expected it to be a lot of bureaucracy and hassle. Although we had to visit four different windows and desks to complete our transaction, it all went very quickly and the workers - who really weren't that busy - were extremely helpful. Laos was far from our cheapest package, but it all went easily and extremely civilly. Knowing it's backed by Thailand Post (sea mail), I'm sure we'll see our stuff one day.
Things like post offices and barbers are some of my favorites because they're little glimpses into everyday life and the mindset of a country and culture. Each of them has taught me a little something. After all, they provide essential services everyone needs and uses. They're not doing anything special and different for us.
Although at times, these "errands" have seemed annoying or a hassle, they've been some of the highlights of the trip. They're part of the enrichment of staying in a place long enough to get a feel for it. And I guarantee that the next time I'm in a USPS line and I have to wait ten minutes, I'll think nothing of it and I'll appreciate the affordability and speed. Believe me, Americans - whatever your post office complaints, we have it good.
Several of the women who worked at this hair cutting establishment on one of the main streets of Vientiane were sitting around Lao-ing - chillin' and chatting intermittently. I asked in my odd Thai-Lao if they had electric clippers and could shave both my head and face.
They all pointed to the woman whose turn it was for the next customer. She rose silently and confidently. Without confusion or concern, she said it would be no problem.
I'm used to confusion and miscommunication, so I didn't fully believe she understood my request - especially since I only knew the words for face and hair, but not specifically beard or shave. When I lived in Thailand, I always shaved myself, so I never needed to learn.
Then my stylist opened up her drawer with five professional grade hair clippers, and things were looking up. We went over my request - no guard for head and face except for mustache and goatee which get #1 guard. She help up the right guard, mimed the right lines on my face - and got to work.
Cool as a cucumber, seemingly without effort, not a strain of thought or sign of focus on her face, my hairstylist shaved my head and face - perfectly. While my Thai barber looked like he was Michelangelo sculpting a masterpiece - and was incredibly detailed - this woman looked more like she was rolling paint into a wall or casually icing a cake while chatting with her friends.
Nonetheless, zen-master that she was, my stylist did a perfect job. I mean perfect. Perhaps the highest level of detail of the trip, rivaling the Thai and Turkish barbers - only she appeared to give it no more thought that tying her shoes - which might actually take more thought for her, since she probably never wears laced shoes.
In short, my stylist was Lao-ness at its finest.
For her skills which looked as if she peacefully channeled them from the heavens, I paid $12.50.
I wish I could report Hong Kong has gone as well. Having been a little lazy about getting to a barber, I'm somewhat desperate for a shave and would ideally like to do it before our flight Sunday night. Unfortunately, I have been rejected by five establishments now.
It seems that a barber pole in Hong Kong indicates any type of haircutting establishment - including nice salons. I spent time this afternoon scouring the streets of Kowloon for a plain ol' barber. I chose places that looked not too fancy. I have basic needs, so I aim for a basic barber.
Three salons rejected me for shaving. They all looked as if I had asked them to commit a crime when asked if they could shave my beard with the same clippers as they were willing to use on my head. In all three cases, it was midday and the shops had several people sitting around idle. But no deal.
I hunted through the side streets - the narrow ones where you can find knock-off luggage and cheap Chinese manufactured souvenir crap. I went to the places where locals eat in small soup and noodle shops.
I finally found a shop that looked promising. It was nice, but not too fancy - they seemed to live in the Supercuts range. Perfect. Only while the sign said "Open", the door was locked. I rang the doorbell. A guy came to the door, let me in and then explained that they were unable to cut my hair.
When I asked why, another gentleman came up, flashed his ID badge and said, "There was a recent break-in here. I'm Hong Kong Police. We need to keep the shop closed while we do the report."
They were very apologetic and asked me to return later in the day if I could. They seemed willing to do the work including the beard. I just had bad timing.
One salon directed me back to the block where Emily was waiting for me. We set up shop today at a Starbucks (I use "a" because there are at least three) in the Harbourplace Mall at Tsim Sha Tsui in Kowloon. Our Starbucks is at the very end of this mall build over a pier and we have an amazing view through ceiling to floor windows of Hong Kong Harbor and Island shimmering in the sun.
As my newly found barber rejection complex set in, I made my way back to our "office" of the day. I checked the streets and eventually the mall directory. The mall customer service people directed me to a hair cutting place I thought they said was called "Razor" - perfect! It was Aveda. Great if you're Emily. But I didn't have to ask to know, I'm not Aveda salon material.
So, I headed back through the enormous mall complex to our Starbucks. Along the way, I passed yet another Aveda salon. "What's another rejection? I might be surprised," I thought. So I asked and was indeed rejected - but kindly offered a facial instead. I wasn't sure how that would work with my beard that they wouldn't trim, so I moved on.
Given our limited time left in Hong Kong and the fact that shaves don't seem to be common here - perhaps because men don't have much facial hair - I may just go scraggly to Boston and turn myself in to a real Supercuts or generic equivalent.
A year's worth of barbering adventures ends on an odd and low note as the barbering elite of Hong Kong chewed me up and spit me out.
In each country, we purchase a decorative item for our future home, a cookbook and a dress for Emily (which sometimes becomes pluralized). As a result, we have had to occasionally unload some ballast and send packages home. We also get the occasional gift for people - and send those too.
As a result, we've visited a lot of post offices and I've mentioned a few highlights over the course of he year - such as the awing experience we had in Mumbai (http://unfoldingworld.typepad.com/our_first_year_everywhere/2010/12/a-stitch-in-time.html).
As we tie up various matters from the year, I want to return to post offices for a moment. For anyone who should need to know, the post offices of France, Hong Kong, Singapore and Thailand are delightful.
In fact, Hong Kong and Singapore are not only easier to use, but they offer faster service and lower rates than most of the postal services in Asia. Emily had a little bit of difficulty in Singapore with an older postal worker who became annoyed with her for not being "prepared" - aka not knowing the system. However, in my experience, most of the Singapore Post people are very helpful and they actually have a system - which is more than many countries we've visited.
The postal counter people in Bangkok - who were sitting around doing nothing both times I visited the post office - happily packaged up all our items, chatted merrily and helped me find the best rates for each item. They did all the work and had simple forms. Although Thailand Post is a little pricey, the air packages arrived a week later - faster than promised. The sea mail took 1.5 months longer than quoted.
Turkey was a little confusing because the English wasn't great. But the lines were super-quick and the postal people were as helpful as possible. The rates were reasonable and service was good. In terms of ease, it was surprisingly great despite not being the nicest looking of the postal administrations....
Greece was almost at the cusp of greatness. In Rhodes, they had a hillarious man who not only sold, but created packaging. We gave him our items and he made customized boxes for each - cheaply. Afterward, we took a number, didn't wait too long and a very nice lady quotes us reasonable rates for our air mail. She then practically covered each package with stamps, because they don't used computerized postage systems. Items arrived in about 10 days and all was well.
That's why we were so shocked in Patmos when the three employees of their tiny post office refused to sell us packaging and directed us to beg the man at the nearby supermarket for discarded boxes. In the end, we had to change a few of our gift items so we could use padded envelopes - which the stationery store sold us cheaply. The supermarket man was low on boxes and in the end, the postal people refused to allow a bottle of olive oil to ship. The packages still arrived - covered in stamps - in a timely manner. We were less than impressed after an hour of running around, begging for boxes and bargaining to allow our packages to be sent.
Then there was India. Crazy-ass, bureaucratic, you need a user manual and a vicodeine to get through it - India. We played along and had an amazingly interesting experience in Mumbai, however in Udaipur we left. In fact, we paid three times as much to send our package DHL mainly to avoid the post office. I have never seen such disorder and a lack of humanity in a government office. It was like a pack of dogs attacking an injured deer - only it was a postal counter.
The Vietnam Post was so complicated and the workers so harsh that Emily nearly cried. Other customers cut ahead of her and the people at the counter acted as if she was invisible. It took her an hour to send her packages. When Emily came back to the cafe where I was working, she looked shaken. Somehow, the Vietnam Post had insulted her dignity and beaten her up a little.
And then there was Poste Lao - which posts a chart on how they send international packages to their destinations. Not surprisingly, it doesn't matter where your package is headed, Poste Lao tosses everything on the morning Thai Airways flight to Bangkok and basically hands over the packages Thailand - which operates a real postal service.
Despite this, Poste Lao was amazingly easy to use. We sent a fairly sizable package from Vientiane and expected it to be a lot of bureaucracy and hassle. Although we had to visit four different windows and desks to complete our transaction, it all went very quickly and the workers - who really weren't that busy - were extremely helpful. Laos was far from our cheapest package, but it all went easily and extremely civilly. Knowing it's backed by Thailand Post (sea mail), I'm sure we'll see our stuff one day.
Things like post offices and barbers are some of my favorites because they're little glimpses into everyday life and the mindset of a country and culture. Each of them has taught me a little something. After all, they provide essential services everyone needs and uses. They're not doing anything special and different for us.
Although at times, these "errands" have seemed annoying or a hassle, they've been some of the highlights of the trip. They're part of the enrichment of staying in a place long enough to get a feel for it. And I guarantee that the next time I'm in a USPS line and I have to wait ten minutes, I'll think nothing of it and I'll appreciate the affordability and speed. Believe me, Americans - whatever your post office complaints, we have it good.
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