Michelle's traveling companion, Greg, writes:
As I was walking up a steep alley way in Bhaktapur to get some of that ice cold water buffalo yogurt I noticed a small barber shop with a youngish barber cutting some kids hair. It's been 5 or six weeks since my last one and I felt a little shaggy so I thought, "Ok, it's just dead skin, the comb can't be dirtier than some of the bunks I've slept in on the trek, so get a haircut already".
After my not so cold yogurt (power has been out all day) I stopped by on the way back down the hill dodging motorbikes and other foot traffic and pulling picks (think basketball) on the little persistent beggar boys. Alas there were two people waiting for their beauty treatments so I thought, "come back later since nothing is too far away in Bhaktapur".
About an hour later the shop was even more crowded but the barber smiled and shrugged his shoulders in a friendly way. Ok, return tomorrow morning.
The next morning after a my breakfast and fortified with 4 or 5 cups of really good coffee I made my way past a cow, several vendors selling fruit, vegetables, and pretty much anything else. The pervading smells of the place evoked reminiscences of my time in Viet Nam (stale foul smells mixed with incense and the other end of the spectrum, aromas of exotic spices simmering and fresh breads being baked). You don't so much smell these things; instead you feel them wrapping you like a heavy early morning mist.
As I turned up the alleyway off the main drag I looked back on this time warp of a street scene. Except for the 2 or 3 motor scooters this could have been the Bhaktapur of Chaucer's era with the uneven brick pavers, open gutters filled with garbage, and melancholic, wailing music in the background.
Focusing my attention on my intended goal I was pleasantly surprised that only the friendly young barber was in the shop smiling at me as if he had expected me and quickly brushing off the homemade chair. As I sat down he made a big show of cleaning his instruments, a big red comb, a small thin long black one, and an old pair of well sharpened scissors (with what looked like the old greasy rag I heep hanging in my garage that I check the oil in my car with....for years). Anyway, I had resolved not to blanch and settled in for what is always too short an experience. Someone taking care of one's head in a careful manner.
Without a word he proceeded to start snipping expertly with rapid comb/snip motions moving rhythmically up the side of my head and then on to the next parcel of the shaggy gray brown weed field that passes for a good head of hair for a man my age. By this time I was practically dozing off listening to the snip snip and feeling the almost ticklish touch of the comb dancing through my hair. The guy was deft and didn't have a single misstep in his motions. You could easily tell this wasn't his first parade.
Pretty soon after switching combs a couple of times he put down his tools and started rapidly mussing up my hair with his fingertips all through my roots, kind of a scalp/follicle massage. This went on for quite a while and I wasn't complaining as it felt pretty good. This motion finally proceeded to a temple massage and then on to a full neck, shoulder, back, shoulder, arm, hand, finger, back some more, neck again and again until I began wondering if this guy had may be either fallen in love with me or was just getting his daily work out routine out of the way.
Just when you think the gig is over he says in heavily accented lilting Asian flavored English,"you wan facial?" Uh, duh, sure.
He smiled and went into the other room and came back with a tray full of jars and bottles and an even more decrepit yellowish towel (I am still hoping it started out as a natural fiber towel and not a white one).
He opened a white jar from his tray of tricks and scooped out two fingers full of what appeared to be my grandmother's crisco and the poured a goodly measure of a pinkish liquid from a bottle into this goo and hand mixed it in his palm and proceeded to gently massage this concoction into my face and neck, ears, eyelids, nose, etc. it felt cooling, smelled pleasant and wasn't the least bit greasy. He then wiped my face off with this brown/yellow greasy rag. The next step in my beautification (is that a Catholic term?) was to spray my face down with water from a spray bottle and wipe it off again with that left over mechanics rag.
He disappeared into the back room again and came out with what looked like a small side grinder with a rubber wheel on it (did this guy have a body shop on the side in the other room?).
Btw the power had come back on and really good Nepali music was playing across the alley. I remarked on how muchI liked their music and he seemed to understand. A few minutes later the music stopped and when I asked about it he stuck his head out of the door and yelled something across the alley to an upstairs window. A woman's voice answered, he spoke again and after a moment the music resumed. Evidently she had changed the channel.
Back to the facial he plugged this thing into a dirty, yellowed electrical cord (after first clearing away rubble) and clicked it on. He seemed as surprised as I was when the device started whirring with a smooth soft buzz. As he applied this soft rubber disc to my face he simultaneously squirted a bluish lotion into the vortex and went all over my face paying particular attention to my chin, upper lip, nose, and ears. Next came a lower, slower speed with deep vibrations. This went on for a long time and felt really weird and pleasant at the same time. After a while he turned it off, made up a new mixture from his lotions and potions and thoroughly massaged my eyes, ears, nose, and throat (just kidding about the throat).
You can probably guess what happened next, you guessed it, another trip to the back room. As I bent around to see what was happening (there was no mirror on the wall) I was almost expecting a screwdriver or may be sandpaper or something but he came out with a small stack of obviously freshly laundered, bright, white hand towels bound together with a string. Was this the years supply?
He sprayed my face down with water again and wiped it with a brand new clean towel. Then came another bluish, but different lotion (aqua velva?). As I started to get up he started massaging my scalp again and before he was through I had another full thirty minute scalp face neck eyebrow lip shoulder arm hand finger nose ear nose....did I mention back? massage including a chiropractic cracking of the neck, spinal realignment and knuckle popping. Then came a complete cleaning of my hair face neck and shirt with quick light brush strokes from the no longer clean towel.
When I finally got up after almost two hours he smiled and ask me if I wanted hair creme....to which I replied no as it looked like 90 weight gear oil (penzoil ?).
We settled on 700r (around $8.50) which probably thrilled him. As I left feeling a little drained but very handsome I was wondering how many more clients could he get out of that towel.
May be I'll go back there just for the massage as it is a lot cheaper than the one I got in Thamel.
After my not so cold yogurt (power has been out all day) I stopped by on the way back down the hill dodging motorbikes and other foot traffic and pulling picks (think basketball) on the little persistent beggar boys. Alas there were two people waiting for their beauty treatments so I thought, "come back later since nothing is too far away in Bhaktapur".
About an hour later the shop was even more crowded but the barber smiled and shrugged his shoulders in a friendly way. Ok, return tomorrow morning.
The next morning after a my breakfast and fortified with 4 or 5 cups of really good coffee I made my way past a cow, several vendors selling fruit, vegetables, and pretty much anything else. The pervading smells of the place evoked reminiscences of my time in Viet Nam (stale foul smells mixed with incense and the other end of the spectrum, aromas of exotic spices simmering and fresh breads being baked). You don't so much smell these things; instead you feel them wrapping you like a heavy early morning mist.
As I turned up the alleyway off the main drag I looked back on this time warp of a street scene. Except for the 2 or 3 motor scooters this could have been the Bhaktapur of Chaucer's era with the uneven brick pavers, open gutters filled with garbage, and melancholic, wailing music in the background.
Focusing my attention on my intended goal I was pleasantly surprised that only the friendly young barber was in the shop smiling at me as if he had expected me and quickly brushing off the homemade chair. As I sat down he made a big show of cleaning his instruments, a big red comb, a small thin long black one, and an old pair of well sharpened scissors (with what looked like the old greasy rag I heep hanging in my garage that I check the oil in my car with....for years). Anyway, I had resolved not to blanch and settled in for what is always too short an experience. Someone taking care of one's head in a careful manner.
Without a word he proceeded to start snipping expertly with rapid comb/snip motions moving rhythmically up the side of my head and then on to the next parcel of the shaggy gray brown weed field that passes for a good head of hair for a man my age. By this time I was practically dozing off listening to the snip snip and feeling the almost ticklish touch of the comb dancing through my hair. The guy was deft and didn't have a single misstep in his motions. You could easily tell this wasn't his first parade.
Pretty soon after switching combs a couple of times he put down his tools and started rapidly mussing up my hair with his fingertips all through my roots, kind of a scalp/follicle massage. This went on for quite a while and I wasn't complaining as it felt pretty good. This motion finally proceeded to a temple massage and then on to a full neck, shoulder, back, shoulder, arm, hand, finger, back some more, neck again and again until I began wondering if this guy had may be either fallen in love with me or was just getting his daily work out routine out of the way.
Just when you think the gig is over he says in heavily accented lilting Asian flavored English,"you wan facial?" Uh, duh, sure.
He smiled and went into the other room and came back with a tray full of jars and bottles and an even more decrepit yellowish towel (I am still hoping it started out as a natural fiber towel and not a white one).
He opened a white jar from his tray of tricks and scooped out two fingers full of what appeared to be my grandmother's crisco and the poured a goodly measure of a pinkish liquid from a bottle into this goo and hand mixed it in his palm and proceeded to gently massage this concoction into my face and neck, ears, eyelids, nose, etc. it felt cooling, smelled pleasant and wasn't the least bit greasy. He then wiped my face off with this brown/yellow greasy rag. The next step in my beautification (is that a Catholic term?) was to spray my face down with water from a spray bottle and wipe it off again with that left over mechanics rag.
He disappeared into the back room again and came out with what looked like a small side grinder with a rubber wheel on it (did this guy have a body shop on the side in the other room?).
Btw the power had come back on and really good Nepali music was playing across the alley. I remarked on how muchI liked their music and he seemed to understand. A few minutes later the music stopped and when I asked about it he stuck his head out of the door and yelled something across the alley to an upstairs window. A woman's voice answered, he spoke again and after a moment the music resumed. Evidently she had changed the channel.
Back to the facial he plugged this thing into a dirty, yellowed electrical cord (after first clearing away rubble) and clicked it on. He seemed as surprised as I was when the device started whirring with a smooth soft buzz. As he applied this soft rubber disc to my face he simultaneously squirted a bluish lotion into the vortex and went all over my face paying particular attention to my chin, upper lip, nose, and ears. Next came a lower, slower speed with deep vibrations. This went on for a long time and felt really weird and pleasant at the same time. After a while he turned it off, made up a new mixture from his lotions and potions and thoroughly massaged my eyes, ears, nose, and throat (just kidding about the throat).
You can probably guess what happened next, you guessed it, another trip to the back room. As I bent around to see what was happening (there was no mirror on the wall) I was almost expecting a screwdriver or may be sandpaper or something but he came out with a small stack of obviously freshly laundered, bright, white hand towels bound together with a string. Was this the years supply?
He sprayed my face down with water again and wiped it with a brand new clean towel. Then came another bluish, but different lotion (aqua velva?). As I started to get up he started massaging my scalp again and before he was through I had another full thirty minute scalp face neck eyebrow lip shoulder arm hand finger nose ear nose....did I mention back? massage including a chiropractic cracking of the neck, spinal realignment and knuckle popping. Then came a complete cleaning of my hair face neck and shirt with quick light brush strokes from the no longer clean towel.
When I finally got up after almost two hours he smiled and ask me if I wanted hair creme....to which I replied no as it looked like 90 weight gear oil (penzoil ?).
We settled on 700r (around $8.50) which probably thrilled him. As I left feeling a little drained but very handsome I was wondering how many more clients could he get out of that towel.
May be I'll go back there just for the massage as it is a lot cheaper than the one I got in Thamel.
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