I wasn't there to get a haircut. The matters at hand were a new buzz cut for Andrew (his latest style) and a bang trim for Sophie. I was trying my best to keep up with the fast-talking, Macedonian-speaking (Macedonian is a close relative of Bulgarian) receptionist to make their appointments and I noticed the male stylist approaching me. Strangely, he began running his hands through my hair, paying close attention to my bangs. He began speaking to me in a tongue I could not quite place. I questioningly looked at the receptionist for a translation. She began in Macedonian once again, telling me that he would like to cut my hair and that he could make my bangs lay in such a way to make my eyes "pop." Being the adventurer I am and relishing in communication other than in my own native English, I made an appointment. I mean, it's not every day someone says they can make your eyes "pop!"
Two days later I entered the salon, ready for anything. This particular haircut took three people. Me. Stylist Guy, and Assistant/translator Girl. Assistant Girl was particularly useful b/c she translated everything he told me . . . into the clearer Macedonian and gave my answers back to him in their mysterious tongue.
Haircut in full swing, I cannot stand it any longer. I ask AG (Assistant Girl) where the stylist is from. My assumption was Albania or Kosovo, being that they are nearby and Albanians make up 30% of the Skopje population. But he did not seem Albanian to me. "He's from Turkey," she said. Aaaaaah! Turkey! Also nearby. That made sense.
As he cut, he would talk to me, which was rather comical because he knew I did not understand him. Perturbed, he would summon AG to come translate. I would answer in Bulgarian through AG and he would go back to cutting. At one point he yelled something across the room to dear AG. She quickly appeared with hot tea, in a small, glass cup that is becoming all too familiar to me. "Drink," SG (stylist guy) stopped his cutting and commanded. I obeyed.
Cutting finished; time for drying. Right? Nope. SG asked if I would like a hair mask. Why not? He slathered a cream in my hair and sat me under a steam dryer. But, then he started talking to me again. I do not understand you, I scolded him in my mind. AG, help! Sensing that communication was being attempted without her, she dashed over to translate. This time I could not grasp what she was saying either. Loud music, louder hair dryer, different hair treatment terminology than that of Bulgarian, I was stumped. SG wasn't! He beckoned me from my chair over to the computer at reception where he found a translation program.
So there we stood at the computer. Me, foil dangling from the ends of my hair in anticipation of the mask to do its magic, and SG, pecking his Turkish words onto the keyboard. I looked at the printed translation on the screen before me. Oh! I thought. That's what you were trying to tell me??? All I needed was one word in response! “Okay,” I said to him confidently, knowing he would understand.
As I sit back down to my steam-dryer, I notice a fresh cup of hot tea waiting for me. Nice! Keep in mind, I never asked for tea, nor was I offered it, it simply appeared.
Okay, if you've read this far, the oddest part of the entire deal is here. Picture this. AG dries my hair until it is acceptable to SG. She then moves out of the way, but is still holding hair dryer, still turned on. He grabs a round brush, positions it in my hair, and takes hold of the drying end of the dryer while AG is still holding onto the power end. She never, ever, lets go of the hair dryer while he dries. Ever.
He finishes styling. Very nice!
I have to say, this was the most delightful haircut I have ever had! The tea, AG, SG, Google Translate, and Eastern music playing through the salon made my current exile from Bulgaria a bit more palatable. . . that day. I am thankful today for the immeasurable variety that makes up the peoples of the earth, all with such great beauty and vast differences that each lend to a picture of the earth's exquisite palate - no matter who or where we are.
I am now working to learn the Turkish word for “thank you.” Teşekkürler!
