First Hungarian Haircut

Nobody was here to take a picture of my new do. Take my word for it. I looked like Darryl Hannah in Blade Runner—no hair movement, just a thatched roof. While Tom was in Rumania with Gyozo, his wife Andrea, a very delightful and kind woman, made an appointment for me with her hairdresser. This was the event I was most dreading. Andrea translated for me because no one at the shop knew English. Roberto had written out my color shades and numbers, all of which meant nothing to me. Something about highlights and lowlights. The shop was nice, the people friendly, and I had a very good experience. You just have to trust or hope. Andrea was more nervous than I was. I tried to tell her that she was not responsible for what happened. She has lovely long hair with blonde highlights so I had asked her where she got her hair done. I am extremely pleased with the color—very important. A young female assistant colored my hair and the owner, a Hungarian Roberto, cut it. I ended up extremely pleased. When I walked out of the shop, I wasn’t sure what happened because of the way that he styled it. A tennis ball size of mousse that I wanted to eat because it smelled like banana sorbet: applied. Then more product, a straightening iron, more product, then hairspray—thus Darryl Hannah. However, by the time I washed and styled my own hair and Tom got home, my hair looked like Hillary Clinton’s.

Human beings continue to amaze me. People everywhere want to please. They want to do a good job. They want to be good at what they do and they appreciate being told when they succeed. I know this is true for me. And this is what I see everyday in others: manicurists, teachers, business people, guides, etc.