“Oh, my cut!”
Walked into a hair salon and got a brand new do! When you’re away from home for three months, there comes a time when you just have to get your hair cut. It can be scary to step outside the comfort of your relationship with your hairdresser at home and hope someone new understands what you want, but it’s even scarier when you don’t speak the language.
We were walking through the streets of Valencia and spotted an open hair salon. Marcus said, “Didn’t you say you wanted to get your hair cut?”
“Yes, I did. Let’s do it!”
Those of you who know me well know I rarely do anything impulsively. I shop around, I think, I wait, then (maybe) I do. But I had a good feeling about this. I walked in the door where two hairstylists were blowdrying away. “Does anyone here speak English?” The woman I asked this of pointed to Grace. I asked Grace if she could take a walk-in. “Take a number,” she said, pointing to a machine like you see in so many crowded shops here in Spain, especially the busy mobile phone stores or tourist information. Within ten minutes I was sitting in Grace’s chair telling her what I wanted. I spoke Spanish; she spoke English. It worked.
I didn’t just get it trimmed; I went for a whole new style. Off with the longer ends and sides that are so difficult to keep styled while traveling. “I want it shorter here and here,” I explained and left the rest up to her.
Grace didn’t hesitate. She picked up the scissors and went to work, and then she blew it dry in the cutest style. “Oh, my cut!” That’s the name of the salon, and for good reason. I love it! I walked out of the salon feeling on top of the world. It amazing what a good cut can do.
