A Simple Task??

You know those tasks that you do without realizing how....seamlessly you can accomplish them until they aren't?

Simple things really, like:

- getting a week's worth of groceries and not having to walk them home (new feat)
- buying an article of clothing and knowing your size (conversions are becoming an iPhone favourite)
- being able to ask for and buy what you want (not getting apple cider when you want raw apple cider vinegar)

Now these aren't major life changing things, and definitely ones that you can muddle through and adapt to.  But it's just interesting to note the change in lifestyle and being aware of these changes / differences as they occur.

And my most recent "simple task"........getting a haircut.

Coming from a "small town" where I'd lived for many many moons I have to admit that I wasn't a creature of change and had, willingly and with no qualms - a definite positive choice - gone to the same hairdresser for YEARS.  I loved it!  We got along well, still do, I know her children, one of whom attends my mom's daycare, her husband, a dental hygienist, had worked on my teeth, - the paths had crossed on many different occasions in many different ways.  It was comforting really.

So when I think of going to the hairdresser's I think of long chats, visiting, having coffee, getting a new look and.....well....it's almost like a social outing.

That has changed.

I have found myself on new turf when getting a haircut these days.  And another admittance:  I've only done it twice since I've moved here as the fear of it and the isolation keeps me from making frequent visits.  Let me explain more....

Haircuts = BEWARE!

Or at least that's the "chat around the water cooler".  It seems no matter who you talk to - Italians or expats - haircuts seem to be the bane of people here.  Why you ask?  Well apparently they don't listen to what you want and just go off on cutting tangents as they see fit.  Now while I can't say this doesn't happen in other places/countries, it did instil a sense of fear in me especially when communication is hindered by language.  (I do, however, know that "fermata" means stop.) Also,  I was coming from a place where my hairdresser and I knew each other well, could banter, discussed looks and ultimately.....the real kicker......if I didn't want her to cut my bangs, she didn't. ;)

Now....it's a whole new ball game.

So the first time I braved this simple task it was pretty uneventful.  I was able to muddle through with someone in the salon loosely translating for my hairdresser, I was prepared with my fingers in position of showing only an inch measurement, the words "un po" memorized on my lips (meaning 'a little') and being ready to jump out of my chair should she start layering.  Needless to say I walked away satisfied.

The second time around.....well it was a different, and more interesting story.  Of which I'm here to share.

So I walked into the salon Saturday morning.  It's just near my house and the school here, so super convenient.  I'd been to this place before so I knew that I didn't have to have an appointment, and was capable of coming back easily since it was so close if they couldn't book me in until later in the day.

Upon meeting the girl at the reception and asking if she spoke english, to which she replied "a little" with a complete look of panic on her face, I knew that this was going to be.....an adventure. Again.  Hence my stilted english started to unfold (I find that it's best to use major words when speaking to non-english speakers at times and not add all the english kerfluffle that fluent english speakers use).

She told me to sit "over there", to which I awkwardly sat at a hair washing sink.  This was the only place to sit, since the bench back there had towels on it, but she didn't say anything else and then proceeded to go work on another lady getting her hair coloured.  Meanwhile, the only other employee in the salon was washing the hair of the lady next to me.  Hmmm..... okay...

So after my awkward perching there, a guy (who I knew from my last experience was the owner) came in and started conversing with the girl.  In Italian of course.  There were some looks and gestures towards me so I was starting to believe that they were going to fit me in??  Needless to say he took over colouring the ladies hair and she, my first encounter girl, came, prepped and started washing my hair.

10 minutes later.....still shampooing (my scalp definitely got a good massage) she asked me if I wanted conditioner.  I was thoroughly confused as I really didn't think this was an option.  Upon replying yes....she left.  Yep.  There I was, head in the sink, all by myself.  But before I knew it, another woman showed up and started conditioning my hair.  As a teacher I know we've used the phrase "It takes a village to raise a child" and so I was starting to believe that it applied to my current situation: "It takes a village to cut Randeen's hair".

After the deep conditioning that I got, I was non-verbally led to a chair and then told someone else would be with me.  Huh?  Another one.  And then when I realized that it was the owner who would be coming to cut my hair, my stomach dropped.  See, around the school grapevine I've heard that he prides himself on being a "stylist", meaning.... he enjoyed doing the fun, funky things.  And that was NOT what I was there for.  So ready to firmly show and state "un po" we made our encounter.  Thankfully, he understood some english so we were able to clearly communicate my hair needs and I was able to have clear confirmation that I wouldn't get layered, or "styled" in some unwanted manner.

45 minutes later......This was seriously the longest haircut of my life!  Stylist he was.

Although I was only getting, what we call it in Canada, a trim it was definitely a marathon trim.  It was also a very bizarre way to get my haircut.  Instead of the usual, start with a semi circular piece in the back, cut, bring down another whole head semi circular layer of hair, cut, repeat, etc.  he started with a small piece in the back and then proceeded to take only other very small pieces beside the first and cut them.  Wow!  The patience he took was actually quite intriguing.

However,  one must keep in mind that although he understood my needs in english, that does not mean he was a fluent speaker.  And what were haircuts usually for me? A social experience.  And this one, was not.

Nope.

Not at all.

For the entire 45 minutes he took to trim my hair, we existed in silence.  Not a peep.  For me, a talker by nature and since birth, this was one of the hardest things I've experienced with my language barrier life.  Oi vey!  So what did I do the entire time?  Pretty much just stare at myself (as the awkward staring at the person cutting your hair who doesn't understand you, and to whom I couldn't explain myself if caught, was what I figured was inappropriate lol).

When he FINALLY finished, I breathed a sight of relief.  I had to admit that I was waiting for a slip up somewhere, a layer to occur, some unwarranted styling to happen, but nothing.

No....wait.....Nope.  Even the bang cutting part (sorry Erin, it did happen) was survivable.  Do I sound dramatic?  Yes.  However....there have been times....when bangs have gotten too short, out of control, etc. etc.

Anyways, after exhaling and relaxing a bit I realized he was conversing with the girl working on the client next to me and pointing at my head. Then, I was clued in.  She would "deal with me" in a few minutes.

What?

So there I sat, for a good 10 minutes while I waited for yet another person to come and continue my long, drawn out hair cutting experience.  Knowing that I only wanted it blow dried, and figuring that by this point and after the length of wait time most of my hair was pretty dry, I was fully prepared to just get up and leave.

But she beat me too it.

So, after 15 minutes of a very intense blow drying experience, and 4 people later - a washer, conditioner, cutter and drier, I was done! 2 centimetres off (metric system is used here, which kinda threw me for a loop as I'm used to asking for an inch off even though I used to live in a metric country), no layers, and over an hour in silence, I left with a feeling of success.

Weird success, but nonetheless I prevailed.

I'd conquered it!  A simple task, turned complex not only with language difficulties but cultural differences as well, was achieved.  And I looked pretty darn good if I do say so myself! lol.  Oh, the adventures to be had of an expat overseas in a world foreign, yet not.

What will I experience next?........