The dreaded hairdryer

Yesterday I finally mustered the courage to do something I had wanted and needed to do for a while and that I hadn't done since last June: I went to the hairdresser for a haircut. The problem is that I don't know any good hairdresser in Yerevan, one that I trust to do things the way I want him/her to do them. One that doesn't rush in the dreaded hairdryer to straighten out my somewhat curly hair! I love my curls and I don't want straight hair! I am probably the only woman in Armenia who hates hairdryers and doesn't own one.

Yesterday I decided to try out the hairdresser at the place my boyfriend found a while back through a friend. He was quite happy about the result back then. They have both a men's and a women's department, so I decided to give it a try. The few times that I went to a hairdresser here, my boyfriend stayed close to interpret if necessary. Buying fruit at the market or chatting with friends in Russian or Armenian is one thing, but running the risk of a failed haircut is quite another! Somewhat to my surprise, yesterday's hairdresser spoke English, so communication was easy. Before starting, he asked if I wanted to have it dried as well. I declined the offer.

When I told him how I wanted him to cut my hair, he suddenly asked whether I wanted to color my hair. I said, No thanks.
He: "But you have grey hair."
I: "Yes, I know. But I don't care."
He, after a silence, slightly longer than necessary: "You don't care?"
I, decidedly: "No. I don't care."
This obviously was not the answer he expected and the guy was dumbstruck. He had no idea what to say to this. The thing is, I have had some grey hairs for the last eight years or so, but I decided not to care about that yet. I refuse to give in already to coloring my hair for the rest of my life! Besides, many people still think I am younger than I actually am, so apparently the grey doesn't do any "damage" yet. Hah!

The cutting went on without a problem, he did everything exactly the way I asked him to. But then, before I could say "Boo!" or "Bah!" the guy took out the dreaded hairdryer anyway and started straightening my precious curly hair!! By that time I decided to let him go ahead, as walking around with half straightened, half curly hair isn't much fun either. To my immense relief, he didn't get out the hair fixing sprays to keep the straightened hair in place. This is what happened last year when I had a haircut in Lebanon. I left the hairdresser's with a helmet on my head. That just wasn't me!

Fortunately, when we left the hairdresser's, it was raining a bit, ruining my new hairstyle and giving me my curls back! So now I am all happy again, but still, it might take a while before I enter a hairdressing salon in Yerevan again.