Vietnam & Cambodia: Beauty School of Cambodia

     One of Kev's must-do items while overseas is to get a haircut.  He is enamored by the non conventional  "barber shops" [say, a guy with a scissor, comb, mirror and stool under a shade tree] as well as the price - ranging anywhere from 15 cents to two dollars depending on the country.  It's a tradition all his own.
      In Takeo, our southern most stop in Cambodia near the Mekong Delta, we made a brief overnight stop just long enough for Kev to see some B-grade temple in the afternoon and get a morning start into Vietnam.  I walked around the village instead. And lo, at the end of the street, was the beauty parlor portion of someone's home.  It took only a nanosecond to decide that I, too, wanted a haircut and slipped into hair show mode. I've been a hair model for many a hair show where one surrenders control of their head for the professional education of others. Since you have no idea how you will look at the end of it, 'letting go' is a safe attitude.  

     Anyway, I walked into the shop where two young females were gossiping and giggling.  "Hmmmmm, is it possible to get a haircut?",  I ask in a language they know little of.   Self-referential as all teenagers are, they're reaction was, 'You want us to cut your hair? Cool!'  It didn't dawn on them to perhaps track down the proprietor or her assistant to provide the service.   Why? They just had me hold the magazine with how-to instructions easy for them to see. One advised, the other happily scraping away with a razor scissor.  I maintain the hair model Zen that separates me from hirsute hysteria.  The passing crowd is highly amused by what they see. 

Cutting up in Takeo

    Eventually, a slightly older female (20?) showed up, clucked in a way that said stand back and without consulting either of them finished what they were doing in the back.  Customer then pointed out the uneven lengths in front- "Same...same" is a well known phrase in these parts - and the 20 year-old hacked away at the front with her dull paper cutters.  It's a beauty school cut if there ever was one.
     And now the question that was not asked earlier.  How much? This required a group consultation and it was conducted in hushed, urgent tones. Eventually, they decided the fee was 2000 rial ...  or 50 cents in a more commonly traded currency.  I pay up, money tucked into a random drawer, everyone starts breathing and I continue walking about the edge of town.  After chatting with a fellow tourist near a rice paddy, I returned to the $5 mildewy hotel room along the popular riverfront park. And who do I see?  My entire style team, doubtless banished by the salon owner, walking as a huddled group toward more familiar territory.  
      It's all part of the adventure.  I can see why Kev does it.