A trip to the barber...

A couple weeks ago, I asked my host father to accompany me to the local barber. Being the incredibly kind-hearted man he is, he agreed and we set off. The barber shop he chose was about 5 minutes from our home. As we walked, I did my best to explain that I wanted both a cut and shave. Every Peace Corps Volunteer that I had spoken with suggested the shave... they focused their descriptions on the inexpensive nature and the all together wonderfully refreshing feeling you (the shave-ee) would receive. He did his best to deter my interest, but alas he was unsuccessful.

Thus, we arrived and after a short wait I was escorted to the chair. I handed the barber a page taken from a Peace Corps provided Newsweek and asked that my hair be cut exactly like the man pictured. He obliged and set off to do just that. The haircut went well, he was very careful to go over every hair, at least three times. He used only scissors and sculpted my hair into what some might call a masterpiece... a slightly diagonal masterpiece, but you know, bangs are hard to get right, ha ha. Nevertheless, the hair really didn't look that bad.

Then he checks to be sure that I want a shave, which at this point I still do... (foreshadowing). So he heats a towel, throws it across my face and massages the heck out of my checks, chin, and neck... the man might have been a chef, as only the truly talented could tenderize meat to such an extent. He then pulls off the towel and applies a warm lather to all areas that are to be shaved. I, by the way, kept my stache and soul patch. My host father was a big fan. I did it as an act of solidarity with my Azerbaijani brothers. Problem is my American wife, was not/is not/will never be a fan (foreshadowing). Nevertheless, I even asked my teacher how to say, "Please don't shave my mustache and soul patch." Don't remember it now but at the time it came in handy. So, he applies the lather to my face, grabs a disposable bic razor and goes to town. He shaves both with and against the grain, displaying a true mastery 0f 'the shave'. So he saves my stache and s-patch, and 'finishes' what I found to be an excellent shave.

Then he asks me a question. I take it to be, "Do you think it looks good." So I respond, "Bali, cox yaxsi dur" or "Yes, very good." Thinking I was done with the shave, I started to get up. Oh no, I was very very wrong. Apparently, he asked it I wanted him to go over my face a second, and yes third time, to make sure there were no rough patches. So he does, this time without cream, all the while stretching the heck out of my face, 'feeling' for stray patches of hair. By the time he finishes the second go-round, I am bleeding profusely from my neck, cheeks and maybe even my nostrals, who knows, there was a lot of blood. He remedies this by pressing a cold damp cloth to my neck. Once he stops the bleeding, he goes around one last time, just to be sure. Finally, he wipes off the last bits of blood (and possibly tears) then sprays some wonderfully 'Old Spice-esk' musk onto my brutally ravished face. The razor burn was bad, but the musk added insult to injury. I liken it to pouring salt water mixed with alcohol over a deep abrasion. You know, it felt great. So he finishes this, and then for whatever reason, goes to town sculpting my mustache...

By the time he finished, I looked like something right out "Germans who fought in the Second World War and really like children" magazine. Emma was super pleased, ha ha ha ha ha.

I honestly enjoyed the experience, minus the pain. The barber was exceptionally nice, he just has very firm hands... and a propensity to go over the same thing many, many times. He even took a picture of us with camera phone. I will definitely go to him again but next time I will only ask for the first shave. I also won't have him sculpt my mustache (which by the way I shaved off about a week later... review the text surrounding my second foreshadowing point for further insight into this decision).

Life is good, my face, two weeks in, is pretty close to 100% and I am happy to have the opportunity to share this bit of my life in Azerbaijan, with you.

Hope all is well.

Mathias