Tuesday, October 29, 2013
In New Zealand, my first long-term overseas experience, was tough. I finally ended up driving an hour and a half just to get a trim. The ladies in our small town only knew how to cut the thick, brown Maori hair which is nothing like my fine, blonde American hair.
Colombia was always an expensive disaster ending in tears. I have finally given up anything complicated and gone for the long, straight style with no highlights. Just plain and nautral. Not too hard to mess up and in worst case senario I can always have one of my daughters trim it for me.
Now I am in Russia where the whole task of finding a stylist seems a bit daunting so I've just put it off. On this vacation to Helsinki my husband commented that I should have it cut here. There are tons of little hair boutiques along the road and everyone seems to speak some level of English. I took his advice and walked around yesterday popping in shops only to find that they were full for the day.
I finally found one shop where the gentleman could do me right away. Should this have been a sign? He didn't speak English. Fortunately I had found a few pictures of the look I was interested in and flashed my ipad in front of him to be sure he understood. One thing I've got to say about the guy is that he didn't over-do-it by hacking off too much. Very tediously he combed them trimmed minute amounts off. Basically he just trimmed the bottom as I would have had one of my girls do.
Next came style time. He blew it out with a roller brush and overall it really wasn't looking that bad. Just when I though he was done he decided that it wasn't poofy enough so he scruffily rubbed his fingers on my scalp - I walked out looking like I had a rat's nest on my head. Honestly I was a bit discouraged that this experience cost me $75.00.
This morning with a good night's sleep I decided to play a bit with the new do. I plugged my straightner into the travel converter and began working away at my hair - and then I began to smell it. The stench grew stronger and stronger until I looked inside the straightern to find a thick wad of my hair no longer attached to my head sizzling away. I instantly knew how Meg felt when Jo burned her hair in "Little Women". As I sit here hours later, I can still smell the stench coming from the frizzled ends along my temple. It will be another 6 months before I dare finding someone who can fix this mess, but hopefully by then something will have grown in to work with.