Today, I got a much needed haircut from a coiffeur for men and children. At least I think that's what the sign said.
It actually worked out quite nicely, really. I was in desperate need of a haircut, and my friend spotted a coifeur right by my school. Quite convenient, I should say. I did say, rather.
In truth, I've known I should have gotten one for a while, but when I originally searched for a hair salon in Paris, all I found were horror stories by Americans who hated their haircuts (one person said her kids and husband didn't even recognize her in the airport).
Of course, I then realized that these were all women, and truth be told they probably cared a lot more about their hair than I do.
So I arrived, sat right down, and the stylist began to cut my hair. I was worried about the language barrier, but I was actually able to convey exactly what I wanted (a little shorter, cut the sideburns) with great proficiency. In the middle of it, I went to another seat and he washed my hair. I don't know if this is a Euro thing or just a not-great-clips thing, but it certainly was a new experience for me. After I was all washed, he finished cutting my hair, even adding a bit of gel.
I then paid the man in cash, and left. Shockingly, no problems whatsoever.
And no, he didn't shave me. Sorry for the misleading title.
It's going to be a late night, because it's 11:06 and I'm going to watch my high school play in the football state championship for 10 minutes. It's moments like these I wish I was at home, of course. It also would have been nice to have Thanksgiving. They don't exactly have it here.
Ian
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