I get my hair cut here in town by a guy working in a busy shop near Silistra's market. He must be in his sixties or seventies, and he speaks in mumbles and grins, when he speaks at all. Despite being on the back end of his career, I picked him out the first time I went into the shop and have been loyal since. It doesn't take much for me to be loyal to a barber, as long as they don't massively screw things up up there, I'll keep going back.
However, I have a long-standing tendency against barbers in general. Mom charts this back to certain barbershop horrors of my childhood, and that may be true, but something about barbershops always makes me a little pensive when I walk through the door.
The first time I went to this place near the market I was suspicious. It wasn't sparkling clean, but neither are most Alaska barbers' so that wasn't a problem. I walked up the nearest barber and, not having any prejudices against age as far as hair-cutting goes, sat down in the old fella's chair for the first time.
I've been there three times since and he's been available each time. He seems to forget where I'm from. I've had to answer the same question each time I've gone. And he also asks me about my height and shoe size every time I go, but that's to be expected. He always gives me a good cut and when he uses scissors they never stop snipping, they're always moving. He also enjoys whipping off the apron and telling me "Chestito" or congratulations after he's finished. Getting a haircut in Bulgaria is always cause for a congratulation, a detail I've actually grown fond of.
Anyway, I got my hair cut today. That's the long and short of it.
Posted by Rob at June 11, 2004 05:27 PM