Getting a haircut in another language is always an experience. After getting a Korean friend to write down what I wanted in hangul I headed off to the local beauty salon. The place was crawling with people. Mothers, fathers and little boys getting perms. I waited for about half an hour until I was instructed to "come 'ere" by the shampoo boy, who couldn't have been more than sixteen. His broken English was cute though and he gave me one heck of a head massage. They also put this creepy green Freddy Krueger mask on your face when you are getting your hair washed so your makeup isn't ruined. I kept wanting to sing "Music of the Night" but I managed to refrain.
After I was seated in the chair, the Korean scissor cowboy sauntered up behind me, armed with three hip-holsters full of scissors. He said a quick "Hello" and proceeded to cut my hair in a frenzied blur. When he was done he flicked up the back of my hair with a grunt of accomplishment, threw his hands in the air like a flamenco dancer and pranced off. It was fantastic.
And my hair looks pretty good too.