the korean haircut

I have never been a big fan of haircuts, especially professional jobs. For some odd reason, I am never able to clearly articulate how I want my hair cut (the SAME length all around). I always end up with short sides and back and a poofy top. For about the last seven years, I have dealt with this situation first by boycotting haircuts altogether, and then using friends as hairstylists. For some reason, my friends seem to be capable of understanding that my look requires equal length of all the hair. I don't know what they're teaching these people in hair-cutting school that makes them feel they need to always give me the poof top. Despite this beef with the hair cutting industry, I have recently returned from my boycott to allow strangers to cut my hair in exchange for money. I received a couple of cuts in the states that went of alright. But, even if the cut looks okay, there is the other issue you have to deal with. I'm talking here about the awkward conversation with the cutter while they are cutting your hair. What is the reason for this practice? At a restaurant, the cook doesn't expect you to sit around and chat with them while they prepare your meal. Your mechanic doesn't want to hear about your life story while he fixes your car. I will admit that the haircut conversation makes more sense than the dental hygienist conversation (which is by far the worst practice ever), but it still just bothers me. What, is there some bond of friendship that gets passed on when someone cuts your hair? I don't believe so.

Anyway, having ranted for long enough now on my feelings regarding haircuts, my hair was in desperate need of a trim this week. Between my beard and the round curly halo surrounding my face, I look very strange to Koreans always, but the afro was getting out of control. If you take my existing opinion of haircuts, and add to that the "Korean factor"(A universal constant which causes everything done in Korea to be 2.77 times as difficult as it is at home. Let's call it "K".), it is needless to say that I was a little nervous about my haircut. I got a recommendation for a good spot though, and today I sucked it up and took the plunge.

My initial entry into the salon (I guess that is what you call it) did not help my anxiety at all. It was a large, loud room, packed full of cutting stations, people running around, an inexplicable amount of shouting and something being said over a loudspeaker. I think the only thing that kept me there was that one of the ladies at the front desk actually spoke English, and got me set up. I was told no fewer than 5 times that it would be about a twenty minute wait, but that i was welcome to use the internet while I waited. It was only about seven minutes until my stylist, who also spoke English, informed me we were ready to go. The cut started out pretty standard, with the hair wash. I can't remember if there is a separate hair washer in the US, but my hair was definitely washed by a lady who not my stylist. It was a good wash. I was reunited with my stylist at one of about 23 cutting stations. Instead of each stylist having a personal cutting station, they keep all their tools in a super efficient tool belt, and each cutting station consists only of a chair in front of a mirror.

I thought it would be a safe bet to bring a picture of myself with short hair, and just show that to my guy. He was pleased that we could communicate the style this way, but I realized upon showing him my passport sized photo that it was not exactly clear what kind of style my hair was in. I didn't even bother trying to explain the same length thing. My cutter was very precise and dedicated to making each snip properly. After cutting a section, he would use a weird second pair of scissor-like tools that he would us to basically shear the tips of my hair. I didn't really understand what was going on here. I originally thought I would be off the hook as far as the awkward conversation situation goes, not being to speak Korean and all. But, as I mentioned, my guy spoke English. Not enough, mind you to communicate tricky subjects like "ALL THE SAME LENGTH!", but enough to chat. The chatting was good though, not too aggressive or bothersome. He was very nice, and kept checking to make sure I was happy with how things were going.

Now, after the cutting is done is when the Korean haircut really starts to shine. First, I was whisked away from my chair by a third person, and taken back to the sinks for a second washing. This included a very pleasant scalp massage. When they wash your hair, they scrub your ears a bit too. Very nice. After wash two, it was off to a strange looking device on the windowsill. This thing was an open plastic box that kind of resembled a toaster with only one big slot. There was some liquid in the bottom that I was instructed to dunk my hand into. Actually, the wash girl ended up dunking the hand for me a few times due to my general confusion and hesitancy. Turns out the box was full of melted wax. A little shocking at first (not the least hot thing I've ever dunked my hands in), but pleasant once the wax cooled. The girl then took me back to my cutting chair, where she gave me a neck and shoulder rub while the wax dried. After a few minutes, my stylist came back to dry and style my hair. During this process, the wash/wax/rub girl removed the wax coating from my hands. Those hands felt extremely smooth and clean after the wax came off. After I was dried and styled, I was given a slice of cheesecake and a glass of water to enjoy.

Now, you're probably wondering how a lowly English teacher like myself could afford such a glitzy haircut. I was actually nervously wondering that myself as I finished off the cheesecake. My stylist reappeared as I approached the counter to pay, and informed that it would be $11. I can handle that. I had been told previously that it is not appropriate to tip your stylist (you don't tip anyone here). But I really felt like a should, because the guy even walked me to the elevator and hit the button for me.

How did the cut come out? Like I said, I always end up with short sides and a poofy top. This time was no exception.