Two foreigners walk into a barber in Bangkok

The title may sound like the beginning of a bad joke (and this post could very well be) but I just had to share our experience whilst trying to find a barber to cut Trav's hair and trim his beard in Bangkok (Trav had not had his hair cut since we left South Africa). Needless to say it was no easy feat to find a barber in a city where very few Thai men have beards, and very few barbers speak English.

Trav came prepared, armed with photos of exactly how he wanted it cut at all angles. He was also prepared to accept that this haircut of his might not turn out as he so hoped. Living in a foreign country comes with many daily frustrations that would turn a seemingly simple act of getting a haircut, into a circus act of hand signals, facial expressions and nervous laughter. Because the big fancy malls usually only offer expensive female-targeted salons, we decided to take a huge risk and walk along the streets to find an old-school barber. This too was no easy feat (of course).

We would walk into one barber and show the photos Trav had on his phone of the simple short back and sides style, only to be sent to the next barber across the road, and this happened about three or four times until a young Thai man standing in front of a blue-walled hole in the wall barber shop looked up from the photo on the phone screen and nodded his head in agreement. Success! It was like asking for a kidney but the challenge had finally been accepted by this brave man.

Trav, reluctant as ever but at the point of no return, took a seat in the barber chair that looked like it was found at a garage sale. It was at this point that I decided to grab an ice coffee and a bag of chips from the 7 11 next door and then enjoy the performance whilst sitting behind Trav on a makeshift bench. There was so much to take in from the small little room that I didn't even know where to look first. The strange posters of fruit and action figures on the walls, the random mirrors that were broken in some places and hanging by wires. The plastic pot plants, the blue linoleum floor, the smell of wet hair and strong cologne. It was a feast for the senses in the most unusual way.

Thai locals that run businesses such as these, almost always live right behind or above the shop. The barbers wife was sitting in the room next door laughing loudly whilst watching a Thai movie, and it wasn't long before the barbers child walked out from the same room. I watched from a distance as she pulled her toy car on a string from one side of the barber floor to the other, moving it around the mounds of other peoples hair. She was very much aware of me and the fact that I was a 'farang' (foreigner in Thai), but after a few smiles and laughs at her and her toy car, she edged closer to me, looked up and started to laugh back and then proceeded to dance at the music playing in the background.

All while this was happening, I saw nervous glances from Trav looking back at my reflection in the mirror. He was now tilted right back, getting the full beard trim with a shaver and foam covering his face. To make matters even more strange the barber had a mask on his face as if he was a surgeon going into theatre. I have since realized that these masks are extremely common. Half an hour went by and Travs haircut was finally finished. The end result was... fantastic! It looked pretty much how he had it cut back home, and so much care was taken throughout the experience.

 To this day, Trav still goes to this same barber down the random little street to get his haircut once a month. What a unique cultural experience that has now turned into a routine, like so many other tasks in our life as expats. x