The Most Important Relationship

The hardest person to meet in your new city of residence will be the most important one - your hairstylist. Forget doctors and dentists, these are the keepers and slayers of hair. Today I went to get my hair cut for the first time since moving to Syria and my apprehension grew larger after dreaming last night that I would leave the salon with - horror of horrors - female Syrian hair. This means layers and blow-outs so big they rival the miracles of women in Texas.

So I arrive and have the most beautiful thing done, someone else washes my hair, the best part of any haircut. Then the guy with the polyester track suit (opened halfway down his chest so I can admire his mat of curly chesthair) and attitude to match asks what I want done. I point to a picture of Charlize Theron with her delightful long, straight, minimally layered hair. He starts cutting and is done, umm, maybe 8 minutes later. Zero layers, nothing's even but I think I have something resembling bangs again. You need to know that my stylist in Vancouver, Glen the Giver of Amazing Cuts and Colour (call him at One Salon on Burrard 604-733-3909), takes at least 30 minutes JUST TO CUT.

Then another guy slaps some weird paste on my hair (to 'treatment it') and wraps it (my head) in seran wrap and leaves me there for 20 minutes. After he takes it off and washes my head - again - another guy blow dries my hair. You know how in North America most hairdryers come with cool bursts to help the hair set? This one comes with bursts of... HAIRSPRAY! I've never seen or smelled anything like it before. Amazing.

And so I leave the salon with flipped hair smelling like bad aftershave. I don't look too Syrian and thankfully my hair does not hold curl so by the time I get home, the walk and pollution have straightened it back to normal. I'm not crying so it must all be OK. We'll see how I feel after one night of bedhead.