Ridiculous Opinions #278
Most of the time when you live overseas, people think that you live an exotic lifestyle. To a certain extent, that’s not true. We all get bogged down in our little lives. The internet has made living overseas much more easy than it has been in the past, as the things that one might experience in their home country are easily available outside of that country as well. Whenever someone has asked me about living overseas, I usually say, “I do the same things as you, only in a different country.”
But there are other things…little things…that make living overseas just slightly different. Today, I will introduce you to the concept of the haircut.
First off, let’s get the truth out in the open…I don’t have a lot of hair. Did everyone get their laughs in? Good. I may not have a lot of hair, but whatever I have lost up top has just transferred down to my beard, which MUST BE MANAGED.
I have had my hair cut in seven different countries. Not many people can say that! And getting your hair cut in all of these different places leads to many different cultural experiences. I’ve had my haircut at an Italian barbershop in Connecticut. I’ve had my haircut on Main Street in the Magic Kingdom at Disney World. I’ve had my haircut on the side of the road in Nepal. I’ve had Chinese barbers who didn’t understand my beard. I’ve had Ghanaian barbers who didn’t understand my hair. And I’ve cut my hair myself!
Until I moved to Abu Dhabi, the best person to ever cut my hair was my former sister-in-law. She was (and still is) a master hair cuttist! But when I moved to Abu Dhabi, I found my guys.
I’ve been going to these guys for seven years now, and once a month, I will pop in to get my haircut. This is only four of the gentlemen that have cut my hair, but there are around six more that have also cut my hair and every single one of them have done a good job.
Now, let me offer the one caveat here in that I do not know the names of any of these gentlemen. This is partly because someone different cuts my hair every time. This is also partly because in my 27 years as a teacher, my ability to retain names seems to have disappeared (faces, I’m okay with…names are gone). And lastly, this is partly because very few of them speak English enough to have a conversation.
They are all from Pakistan and their shop is in downtown Abu Dhabi. Abu Dhabi is a very, very modern city, but there are pockets of the city that maintain the feel and culture of a different country. The shops in these pockets cater not to the average, well-off citizen of the city, but more towards the immigrants of the city, with small restaurants, shops, and other businesses that are geared more product and price wise to those that come from other countries here to work.
On this block alone, you will find seven other barbers, a bike repair shop, a travel agency, two restaurants (one Filipino and one Pakistani), a shipping agent, and a couple of mysterious businesses with no signs, a single desk, and a haunted individual sitting there, staring at their phone. I found Arrow through a recommendation, though that person did not actually recommend Arrow. I told him that I was paying too much for my hair cuts and he suggested going down by Khaladiya Mall to find a barber. I thought I knew where the mall was, but I did not, so I just picked the first place I could find. It was these guys. I have not had my hair cut any place else since.
When I enter the shop, it is either incredibly busy or sparsely populated, depending on the time of the day. The barbers are always friendly when I walk in, greeting me with “Salam Alaikum”, which means “Peace be upon you” (for those who don’t know). I am always offered tea or coffee (I drink neither, so I politely decline), and the television is always on, showing one of three things…Cricket, a Bollywood movie, or a khutbah, which is the equivalent of a “sermon” by an imam. Usually, the TV is loud.
From there, I get a hair cut and a beard trim, which also contains a bit of a head and shoulder massage. Every single guy who cuts my hair is meticulous, fussing and fretting over every single inch of my head until it’s all perfect. And there’s always something interesting that happens. One time I was asked if I wanted a face massage and I thought, Why not? I was subsequently put through a grueling punishment of extraordinarily cold water and extraordinarily scented creams being rubbed all over my face, all with my eyes shut, so I never knew what was happening and each new thing being rubbed into my face was an odd surprise.
Another time, one of the barbers asked me something in heavily-accented English that sounded like, “Uwandadawaxudamachee”. I was so embarrassed at my inability to understand him that I said, “You decide!” not knowing what he was doing, whereupon he proceeded to shove two wax covered Q-tips up my nose to remove the nose hairs out of my nostrils. My nose has whistled ever since (not a joke). There is video of this incident.
Aside from those adventures, I always come out of Arrow with a fresh look and the confidence to know that they got every single thing correct when giving me a style. These barbers are unfailingly nice and have charged me the equivalent of $10 per visit for the last seven years (and that’s still the foreigner price, which I don’t mind paying).
I really enjoy these guys, because they let me fall asleep in the barber chair and they don’t judge me (it’s sooooo relaxing). Or maybe they do judge me. They were the first people I ventured out in the world to see post-Covid. They’re the last people I see when I return home in the summer.
And I don’t even know their names.
But that’s part of the business, living overseas. There are so many people you get to know, who come and go, who add a bit of spice to one’s life to make things interesting. Sure, you could climb Mt. Everest or vacation in Greece for an interesting overseas experience, but the truth of the matter is that it’s the little things that really have an impact on you when you live a life like this. Getting my hair cut by the Pakistani crew at Arrow and occasionally being called “Grandpa” by the younger barbers there is something that just makes life a bit more rich.
If you’d like their address, let me know. I’ll send you their way…
