One of the benefits of this blog being titled “Travels of ADAM” means I can post whatever I please. Because this is my travel adventure and you get what you get! So that’s why you’re getting a post about my new haircut. Are you excited yet?
Getting a haircut while traveling
I think this may be one of my more favorite pastimes—getting a haircut while abroad and/or traveling. It’s such a regular occurrence and is bound to happen while you’re abroad for any extended amount of time. Unless you’re a dirty hippie.
Not only does it involve finding a place to get a haircut, but you’re almost guaranteed a local experience. I mean, how many other travelers are getting a haircut?
Making the mundane memorable
Honestly, how many haircuts of yours do you remember? I just remember under a handful as standout experiences—one of them while I was traveling around Australia in May 2006. I was in desperate need of a haircut (in fact, I may have avoided a haircut for the preceding 4 months out of fear of acting stupid in a foreign barbershop).
I was traveling with my friend Sara and when I finally decided to get my hair chopped off, I was pretty excited with the end result. Sara (if we were still friendly) could probably attest to my heightened levels of excitement both pre- and post-haircut.
That haircut in Darwin, Australia stands out in my memory because it was such a normal activity, in an abnormal way. That’s what makes long-term travel so wacky—and so fun! Doing things just like you normally would, but in a totally different way.
That day in Darwin, we just stumbled into a barbershop (photo above) while walking down a seemingly deserted street. I’d been on the lookout for a place to get my haircut for a few days. After an attempt in Alice Springs searching for some chick in our hostel who apparently was a professional hair-cutter failed, I just waited until we got to Darwin.
Walking into the single-room barbershop, I asked how much. He said a price. I probably agreed. He then proceeded to close the door and all the windows, locking us inside. Sara was freaked out. I was excited to see what would happen next. After listing my vague guidelines for a haircut (“short…but not too short”), he started frantically snipping & snapping away. In just over a few minutes, all my precious hair was gone. I felt instantly refreshed and ready to take on the world. That’s when I made Sara snap the photo of me (below). So clean!
And that brings us up to speed
All this was in my mind when I stepped into a little, one-room barbershop on Ibn Givrol street yesterday afternoon. The old, bald man was sitting in the barber chair eating his lunch out of one of those giant plastic cups everyone seems to drink water out of (I think it’s a Jewish thing). He named the price (10 NIS higher than the posted price because “you have a lot of hair”).
I waited for him to finish his lunch. And then sat down, willing to let whatever happen. I gave my directions: “just shorter…but keep the bangs longer.” He took a bar of soap and ran it through my hair (“weird” I thought, but whatever). A straightedge blade and some rusty scissors later…and I had a haircut!
Ah, it’s so refreshing to have short hair again. Even if it aligns me with a certain political persuasion I don’t necessarily want anything to do with. Not only do I instantly appear older (I was carded at a bar the other day – WTF!), but it’s so much more comfortable in the heat of the day.
And yes, this post was entirely just about a haircut. I don’t know why. Here’s a few more pics! Happy weekend, everyone.