Day 28: A Haircut in Spain

Day 28: A Short Entry to Match My New Haircut
Tuesday, June 27, 1995
Barcelona, Spain

It’s an overcast Tuesday. We awoke in the nick of time to reserve our room for tonight. Stacy wanted to see gardens, but for me, I plan to spend this overcast day getting some things done–a haircut. What a “perfect” day to get a haircut. After putzing around for a bit I ventured downstairs to ask for a cool place to get my hairs snipped. Mamood, the desk attendant, recommended his stylist to me. His name was Gabriel and he owned a shop about 1 minutes walk down the way. Haircuts here, says Mamood, cost 1400ptas, which is pretty good for around here.

My haircut experience was an adventure in itself. First of all, it was really hard to tell this guy how I wanted my hair done…you know, since my Spanish is so good an’ all. But I think it went well.

I even talked to him a little while he cut my hair. Gabriel even offered me a smoke—“no fumo” I told him. Things were going well, too well to be true. My sides, when he finished, were perfect—now for the top. Gabriel was really proud of his work and took care with every stroke. The thing is, after a while, the gentle strokes became horrible sweeps that in only a few motions had succeeded in sending most of my curly hair aloft into the air. In just moments, I sat before a mirror staring at a reflection that just couldn’t have been me. I was sure that in a few seconds, Gabriel would spin me around in the chair to face the real mirror where I could see ME and MY hair, not this guy! Well, to make a long story longer, I ended up paying 2100 pesetas for this stranger’s shampoo AND haircut. My CLEAN hair surrounded me on the floor as I walked out forcing myself to say “gracias.” I think I looked at myself in EVERY shop window on the way home—this was the worst haircut—and day—of my life!

I was sleeping when Stacy entered the room shouting, “Oh my god! Your hair!” Hmm, thanks, I thought, and yours looks lovely today too. It actually grew on me after a while (not literally). Think of it this way: it’s a great way to save on shampoo and gel! At any rate, it was time to face the world and mingle around the Kabul. Wait, what’s that sound? Do I hear…YES! It is! It’s Sam’s voice! Sam, who I left at the train station in Nice, is staying at the Kabul! Pretty cool—especially since she hadn’t planned to do any traveling at all! To think that I was NEVER going to see her again after Nice! I guess we have a PARTNER for the next few days, huh?! She’s in room 360, right across the courtyard from us. Now let’s go see some Gaudi buildings with Stacey.