One of my more interesting hairdresser experiences was in Sandakan, Borneo. The lovely, friendly, smily hairdresser didn't really seem to grasp that I wanted her to take more than a cm off the bottom. That time I left looking not a huge amount different from how I'd gone in, but my hair was a bit sleeker, washed and blow-dried nicely, all for 5 quid, AND I'd had good chat thrown in for good measure.
You would think a haircut in NZ would be more productive at least. But no, not at the place we went to in Taupo. Oh no.
My hair was wetted, but not washed, in the sink, and the keen but shaky girl took huge clumps of hair to cut at a time. She didn't cut it very evenly and her attempt at blow-drying was extremely half-hearted. I'm no diva, but this was way below even my travel-worn standards.
I fared better than Claire, who merely had her hair dampened with a water spray and her fringe duly butchered by the kind lady who added that it was ok if it went wrong, it would always grow back...
The chat wasn't much better either. I was forced to keep a straight face and answer politely to comments such as 'Scotland, that's where the McLeod's are, eh?'. When we'd progressed to the gripping topic of William Wallace (Rob Roy and Braveheart being their sole source of knowledge on bonnie Alba), I was stuck as to how to respond to my lady's 'So is it still like that over there, with all those spirits still flying around all over the place and all that?'.
Our main regret was having told everyone back at staff quarters that we were going on this brilliant haircut mission and having to deal with the consequences.
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