Just some of the wonderful flowers in the markets
Deciding that I could no longer ignore the fact that I desperately needed a haircut I wandered up and down several roads that had a variety of ‘hot toc’ establishments trying to decipher the signs to decide where to go. There are a wide variety of businesses to choose from. In many places I have seen locals getting their haircut on the street. In front of a handy wall on which a mirror can be hung, the client sits on a rickety chair while the barber efficiently tackles the task while being jostled and observed by passers by. In Ho Chi Minh there are also very elaborate establishments dedicated to a whole range of beauty treatments including hair styling, pedicures, manicures, massage and makeup. Between these two extremes there are hundreds of little modest hairdressers and barber shops.
Somewhat daunted by the task of communicating my wishes without language I have been putting off the inevitable but several photographs confirmed that the need to do something about my unruly hair was becoming increasingly urgent so I braced myself and went in search of a likely place. Noticing my scrutiny of his sign an enthusiastic gentleman emerged from one of the little, unpretentious establishments and bustled me inside. Before I had time to hesitate I was seated in a chair with him poised over me with scissors at the ready. At this moment it suddenly dawned on me that I did not know if this was an establishment for women and men or only a men’s barber. One of my curious experiences in Viet Nam has been that I am sometimes mistaken for a man. As I walk past the taxi touts and hawkers regularly address me as “sir” when offering their services or wares which, although I have always been interested in the concept of androgyny, was disconcerting at first but it has given me an opportunity to reflect on the gendering of interactions. I am not sure whether it is my size or short hair that leads to this assumption. Almost every Vietnamese woman has long hair and they are very tiny, many are well under five feet tall and would be able to buy clothes in the children’s section of New Zealand stores.
I did hear a story that was an interesting reversal on the “they all look the same to me” theme. A woman who has done a lot of work here said that one time when she was accompanied by a group from New Zealand the Vietnamese could not work out who in the group was Maori and who was not. They declared that all New Zealander’s look the same!
Deciding that the risk of getting a crew cut was not the worst thing that I have faced (after all hair grows back again) I didn’t make an escape but I did emphatically try to indicate, by holding up pieces of my hair and making scissor motions with my fingers, that I only wanted to remove a centimeter or two rather than receive I number two. Waving away my concern the barber efficiently set to work and in no time at all I had a reasonably good, and very cheap, haircut. Having heard that your haircut is often followed by ear cleaning, which involves enthusiastic and deep probing of the ear canal I was poised ready to clamp my hands over my ears if anyone approached with a long instrument with a loop on the end but the only extra I received was a vigorous but pleasurable shoulder and neck massage. It was a great treatment for the tension I have built up while trying to learn, remember and reproduce the convoluted Vietnamese language.
There were three other clients in the hairdressers. One of these gentlemen was being subjected to the ear cleaning treatment while the other two were having their nits dealt with. I have got used to seeing this frequently in parks. Using either tweezers, combs of just their fingers nits are painstakingly extracted by a companion. I do not know if this is because the nits are resistant to chemical treatments or because these are too expensive. I certainly hope that I do not have the need to find out more.
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