Thread: 3 Hairdo's in one day-A tale with a happy ending!

Inspired by Somtamslap's recent thread "Short back n sides in the sticks" I thought I'd post my own tale of woe.

A while ago, I was in Phnom Penh and desperately needed my mop chopped. Now, usually this is a fairly simple task: You go to your local barber who already knows what you want, sit down, get your haircut, pay the piper and leave freshly cut and tickly from the lil' hairs down the back of your collar. Happy days.

However, when you're fairly new in a foreign land, and you don't have a barber that knows you and how you like your locks styled, and you have only a very basic grasp of the language, which does'nt include haircutting terminology, it's a somewhat trickier proposition.

As I didnt have the faintest idea of what barber to go to I decided to ask an expat friend where he gets his haircut...his hair looked alright and was pretty much the same as I have mine -short back n' sides since you ask. He pointed me in the direction of a streetside barber near the National Museum. I was a bit hesitant to visit one of these but he assured me he'd went to him for years and he knew his way around a pair of scissors so I decided to go for it.

If you've never seen a roadside barber in Cambodia I'll briefly describe the scene: A shrivelled, toothless old bloke with some scissors, a shack, a chair, a bit of broken mirror, hair blowing away in the breeze to mingle with the trash strewn about, and....well, that's pretty much it. It only costs $1 though so hey, cant really complain about the decor!

I waited while he finished off a customer, the bloke's hairdo looked pretty neat and tidy when he'd finished so I took a seat and described in a mix of broken Khmer and sign language what I wanted. "Small small please", pointing to the back n sides and "Small" pointing to the top of my head. Sorted.

So, he sets to work with his scissors, chopping off a bit here and a bit there in a random sort of fashion..."Strange technique" thought I but wasnt too concerned at this point. He then produced a contraption of which I'd never seen the like of before-it basically worked like those small nail clippers but was bigger, maybe it was supposed to be used for cutting elephants toe nails or something, but this bloke started hacking away at my beautiful locks with it! I was starting to get quite worried at this point.

I'm now watching someone slowly butcher my hair with some elephants toe-nail clippers in the middle of a street in Cambodia and thinking I may have made an unwise decision here. Soon enough, Sweeney Todd finished his diabolical deeds and stood back, giving me a gummy grin in the shard of mirror. I just sort of smiled and went "Cheers mate, that's great, ta very much" and handed over the dollar. I know you cant expect much for that little money but I still think I would have been ripped off at half the price!

I walked away looking like I'd been dragged through a bush backwards and then brutally buggered with a pair of hair scissors and was cursing the advice of my so called mate!

Part 2 shortly...

Don't matter what your hair looks like, if you have dollars in your pocket then you still Hansum Man

So, I went back to my apartment to have a quick shower to remove the tickly hairs and properly assess the state of my barnet. Nope, still look like an axe-murderering mental patient, back out I go to look for a barber who can actually cut my hair into something remotely resembling a "style".

Driving around on my bike, I noticed a barbershop in a shophouse with a fair few customers. Working on the same principle as going into the restaurant/food stall that is most popular with the locals to avoid food poisoning, I decided to take a pew in the hope of avoiding another massacre of my hair follicles.

This place was certainly a step-up in class from the previous barber's "shop", in that it at least had four walls, running water and electricity and charged the princely sum of $2. Still, no air-con though so by the time it was my turn in the chair, after much sly comments and giggling at my stupid haircut by the other customers, I was sweating like a...well, like an out of shape Englishman in a non-aircon Asian backstreet barbers.

Again I tried my best to explain how I wanted my hair doing and the guy seemed to understand. I knew this because he did the Asian thing of smiling and nodding and saying "Yes, yes, OK OK" which of course means that they fully understand everything you require, and they're not just pretending to understand at all.

So, he gets to work and his technique seems good, he's taking his time and appearing to be very careful. When he'd finished I looked at myself in the mirror and everything was looking pretty much ship-shape, I happily handed over the $2 and went on my way.

That should have been the end of that, but this is not the happy ending referred to in the thread title and I havent described the third haircut yet. If youre wondering why youll have to read part 3 later after I've eat my dinner....

Originally Posted by Thetyim

Don't matter what your hair looks like, if you have dollars in your pocket then you still Hansum Man

ha ha ha how true is this?

So, I go back to the apartment again for the third shower of the day and admire my do in the mirror. Doesnae look too bad but I start combing it out and realise that, while not as bad as the first abortion of a trim it's still pretty crooked looking and there is the odd tuft of longer hair still poking out.

By this stage I'm thouroughly pissed off. After about three hours, three dollars and three showers I've still only got a shit haircut to show for my exertions. By now I havent got much hair left to work with so decided the only thing for it was to shave the whole bastard lot off and be done with it.

I got back in the saddle and started driving around looking for a third barber to do the deed, I'd be bolloxed if I was going to give any more cash to the previous pair of jokers. I stopped at the first barber I came across, not expecting much but also aware that this time couldnt really go wrong.

I entered the establishment and was struck by a cool wave of aircon, already a major improvement on the first two shops. It was then I noticed that about ninety percent of people in the shop were young, fairly scantily clad Vietnamese women who appeared to just be there for decoration. I thought I'd walked into a ladies salon but noticed a local bloke in the chair getting his ear and nostril hair plucked so I asked in the local lingo "You can cut hair man here me, or not?"

The response was in the affirmative so I sat down and a little Vietnamese bloke appeared behind me. Not knowing the Khmer or Vietnamese for "Please rid me of this monstosity on my head by shaving it off" I just mimed the action of hair clippers and made a "ZZZZZZ, ZZZZZZZ, ZZZZZZ" sound. Oh, how they laughed.

During the course of the bloke shaving my head, I kept making eye-contact in the mirror with a pretty Vietnamese girl who was loafing around in the background. Every time we made eye contact she'd giggle and say something in Vietnamese to some old trotter next to her. I didnt think much of it and when the bloke had finished I got up to pay. The girl came up to me and gave me a wet wipe to clean those annoying itty bitty hairs and said something to the barber.

He grinned at me and said, in English "You want massage lady?" with a definite nudge nudge, wink wink. I wasnt expecting it at all and said "What, massage?" Nod,nod. "How much?" He told me the "massage" was $1.50 and then a "tip" for the girl. After my mornings frustrations I was more than happy to relieve the tension with this young "masseuse" so headed upstairs with her.

After my nightmare morning trying to get my haircut I was quite pleased with this unplanned happy ending to say the least and while living in Phnom Penh I made a point to go there at least once a week, whether my hair needed cutting or not!

Oh yeah, forgot to add, and we all lived happily ever after!

Good tale Khmen. Now all you need is a No 1 polish once a week.