From the home of the pandas: Day 9, 'China's Cutting Edge'
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It seems that touching the Chinese poet Du Fu's beard really has brought Asa luck. [Image:Radio86] |
![It seems that touching the Chinese poet Du Fu's beard really has brought Asa luck. [Image:Radio86]](http://images.china.cn/attachement/jpg/site1007/20110615/000cf1a48f870f62959c55.jpg "It seems that touching the Chinese poet Du Fu's beard really has brought Asa luck. [Image:Radio86]")
Butcher has braved the unknown China over a week now. His destination is the fascinating Sichuan province - the home of panda bears. Asa tells our readers how an Englishman is faring in the Middle Kingdom, and it seems now that now his ears have been lowered...
Click here to read Day Eight...
Day nine and, in the face of my growing celebrity status, it was only fair to my adoring public that I improve my image and polish up my style. With wallet in hand and one memorised Chinese word, I headed out on to the streets of Chengdu to find the nearest hairdressers.
It wasn't long before I found one that resembled those in the West and staffed by people with reasonably stylish haircuts, which is always a positive signal. The poor young male hairdresser was welcoming me before he even realised, "Oh god, it is a foreigner!"
I nervously unleashed my only word, "Jian?" He nodded and pointed to the back of the shop. Result! He pointed to a a flat bed-like platform in front of the basin, so I correctly assumed I was supposed to lay vertically while he washed my hair.
He actually began to give me a ten-minute head, scalp and neck massage that actually felt fantastic. I could safely say it is the most physical pleasure another man has given me in years, probably decades.
After the massage, it was back to business with shampoo and conditioner, towel dry and being directed to a chair I the main shop. Obviously my expert pronunciation of jian had led him to believe I could now understand full sentences in Chinese but he was to be severely disappointed.
He didn't quite grasp my International Pointing Language, so he blow-dried my hair and thought he was finally done with this bizarre foreigner with unruly thick hair, with a cow's lick to boot. I made the snipping sign with my fingers and, bless him, his face fell.
Off he went, snipping, trimming, shaving, styling and doing what hairdressers generally do. When he was done he took me back to wash my hair, which is something I always have to request in Finland, and then put on the finishing touches with some gel-like substance – I don't want to know.
When he was done, he looked quite relieved, as did I. The haircut was actually pretty good and a little different to my usual boring style. It is certainly enough to keep the Chinese lining up to photograph me.
Do you know how much the whole hairdresser trip cost? Six U.S. dollars. Did I give him a tip? Probably the biggest of his life... well, I am a star now!
