Two days ago I embarked on a solo adventure. I was going to get my first haircut in Morocco. A haircut can cause extreme anxiety for some at the best of times but it's one of things that just has to be done. Let me say, I have probably not paid for a haircut in years. A good friend of mine and very able hairdresser/beautician/cook/graphic designer/artist looks after that part of my life and is easily paid off with a bottle of wine, preferably white.
I am not one to worry too much about my hair. I prefer it long as my face resembles a basketball if cut short. I also like it straight. I always feel more sophisticated than the Diana Ross like hair do that greets me in the morning most days.
I have friends in Marrakech that are vigilant about where they go, who they see and what they want. I have one friend who was very happy with a French hairdresser and one day called to make an appointment only to be told he had died the week prior and was not available anymore. Obviously.
Some hairdressers charge prices that rival those in Melbourne, New York, London and Paris. If you have a certificate stating that you trained in France, as many hairdressers do, the price increases.
Let me tell you a little about my hairdresser. There were no certificates on the wall as far as I could see. Pictures cut out from magazines adorned the walls and upon entry the young apprentice was washing the teapot in the hair washing basin.
I had been to this place before to have my legs waxed. It is cheap and cheerful even if the waxing table is wonky and you have to press your hand against the wall to maintain balance whilst trying your best to enjoy the experience.
I went in and negotiated getting my haircut using hand gestures instead of arabic. I haven't taken the 'Getting your hair cut' class with my arabic teacher yet, unfortunately. The rest of my experience followed in this fashion lots of hand gestures, facial expressions and some very bad arabic and french. It didn't take to long before I was nervously sitting in a chair. What on earth was I going to look like at the end of all this?
I knew I wanted a wash, cut and colour. First, the wash. After my hairdresser had detangled my hair from the birds nest it was. I don't think I had brushed it in at least a week (Sorry Mum!) she asked me if I wanted it washed - I think? I nodded eagerly and then I can't be quiet too sure but I believe she may have asked me if I had brought my own shampoo. "La" (No) I said apologetically. She then leant into my head and drew a deep breath, a little sigh and "Wakha, via" (Ok, come).
Now 'via' is a French word and the only reason I knew that she was telling me to make my way over to the basin/ kitchen sink was because I often here my friend call his dog using that word. This was very awkward moment as I transformed into King, the pitbull, and obediently made my way over to her to have my hair washed.
Cold water and 2in1 did not take away from the fact that it was one of the best hair washes I have ever had. After the wash I was taken back to the chair. My hair was brushed with one of those brushes you grandpa uses. You know the ones I mean, tiny little spikes and it fits into the palm of your hand.
Then the cut, this was the moment I was most anxious about. I knew that I needed a lot off but when she lifted up may hair, raised her eyebrows, saw my anguish at how much actually had to be cut off, she eventually softened patted me on the shoulders and snipped away. The scissors she was using were not unlike the ones I have on my desk at work but they did the job.
After the cutting was done and my hair was laying scattered on the ground like an army of wounded soldiers the blowdrying commenced. She pulled, pushed and puffed out my hair so I looked like one of the Charlie's Angles and would not let me stand until my new fringe was suitably poofed.
When I looked at myself in the mirror the final product was lovely. Even though this experience could have quite possibly been a nightmare and completely unthinkable to another I was overjoyed at paying 15 dollars for a great haircut. I will definately be returning to Salon Samira.
