I don't know what compelled me to get my hair done. I'm on vacation in probably one of the most remote spots of Thailand. The type of spot where all the roads are dirt, and the main road is called " Main Road". Their gas station (singular), are mainly for the scooters & are large cans attached by a hose and a handle. The only thing stopping it from exploding is a thatched roof shack and a sign that reads: no 'smokeing'.
Sitting at lunch, I saw my motivation shining up from the magazine page. RED. That's what I wanted, bright red streaks that could only be seen when my hair is pulled back. Easy I thought. Then I remembered that I had seen a hair salon/ Laundromat behind our hut on 'Not-Quite-Main-road'. Really, how bad could it be. I walked up to the small building, not much bigger than the hut we're staying in. I read the services off the window. They do "champoos", highlights, color, cut, head massage and Thai massage . The only girl/stylist there was sitting in the doorway eating fruit out of a bag. It was an interesting fruit, round with soft, red, spiny things protruding out of it. It made me more scared than hungry. I nearly expected it to jump out of her hands and attack her face. Before it had a chance, she dug her nails into it and pulled off the skin to reveal a white fleshy inside-- similar to a lychee.
I asked her if she could do highlights "this color": pointing to the red hair advertisement I had ripped out of the magazine.
She giggled. "Yes…no... [something in Thai I didn't understand]"
"No?" I asked.
"Yes."
I laughed. "OK…"
She grabbed the paper and studied it carefully. "Highlie?"
"Yes, Highlights." We were finally getting somewhere. Somewhere I would soon regret I was going. "How much?"
"500 Baht ($15)."
"OK"
"OK".
We walked into the room which had 1 chair, a mirror, and a sink. The floor was Tiled and the walls were a brown stained plywood with posters (color advertisements) of happy girls who have just had their hair died. The room was being cooled by a fan in the corner.
I picked a color out of the color book: RED. They don't have it…
"This?" she pointed to a dark red/brown color.
"OK that's fine" If anything, it won't look much different than my hair now. I have to die my hair when I get back home anyways, so for $15.00 she could do just about anything. Apparently, she had the same idea.
She mixed the color and went to work with the foils. She didn't die to the roots and I had to show her where I wanted each highlight. She smiled and nodded.
When she finished, she rolled over the hair dryer. She plugged it in and the whole wall bent inward. I made sure nothing on my body was touching the dryer, as to not get electrocuted. I waited, nothing happened…nothing…nothing…Then STEAM….hot steam. I wasn't sure what to think at this point. It's already so humid here, the last thing anyone needs here is a facial. Me and my fluorescent green bonnet were starting to get a very bad idea about this.
I looked at her through the mirror. She was eating her fruit again. I asked her what it was. She gave one to me. I didn't really want to touch it. Then--again--she dug her nails in and ripped off the scary flesh. She handed me the inside and motioned for me not to eat the pit. She used the universal sign for throwing up. I got it. "don't eat the pit-- OK". It tasted similar to a lychee as well.
We sat and waited. She rinsed the highlights out. I had never seen highlights like this before; I literally couldn't see them!
I thought I would pay her the 500 baht and pretend everything was fine. I was wrong. She prided herself on customer service.
She blow dried my hair damp. Then she put a highlighting cap on me again.
I realized we were about to embark on this journey again. Good for her, not giving up! Because my hair was damp, it was similar to a 20 minute form of Thai torture getting the 6 pieces of hair through the pin-point size holes. when she went to the other side of my head it was less easy and became very afraid. She tried to pull the wet hair through, it knotted and got stuck. She pulled the bonnet back and tried again. After about 15 tries per hole, I started to imagine the room bursting into flames, she grew a tail and horns and used the small pick to rip my hair out through the bonnet. Her Thai laugh (Which they all seem to have) mocking me: "you stupeed toureest!" Yes, she had a french accent.
"You would make a better torture artist that stylist" I thought. I glanced at her in the mirror and smiled. She smiled back and giggled.
I tried to explain to her that it will come through better if it's dry. She laughed. SO, I pointed to the blow dryer and pretended I was blow-drying my hair. I even made a "brzzzzzzz" sound. She just laughed hysterically. I gave up and decided now might be a good time to stop drinking my water since I already had a full bladder when I arrived and there was no bathroom.
She finally got about 4 different strands out and by this point I was too tired and sore to complain. I looked in the mirrors and saw a funny resemblance the scary fruit I consumed earlier.
She came back and started lathering a bluish color gunk on the few strands protruding out of the cap. Then, It hit me: BLEACH. As much as I wanted to run, it was too late-- I did not want blonde streaks! Before I knew it, me and my green cap were under the sauna contraption. She said something to the 12 year old fixing the air conditioning. He looked back at me, screwdriver in hand, smoke hanging out of his mouth. Smile, nod, Thai giggle.
That's exactly what I was thinking.
I looked out the window. One of the tourists that's been here awhile was walking by outside. I turned my face into the steam machine. The LAST thing I wanted was to be known as was "The nutter girl who got her hair done in Thailand."
After about 15 minutes under the machine, she came and unplugged it. She had to brace the wall with one hand so she didn't collapse the building. She wiped off the bleach with a wet cloth. Now, any ideas of running away were shot to hell: my hair was leopard print.
She came back to lather on the red. Again. Steam machine. Again. I looked at the poster of the girl with a huge smile on her face. Bitch!
As she was checking to see if the color was set in, I was sure my hair was going to disintegrate in her hands. I was begging her (in my head) to just rinse it out. I smiled at her. She giggled.
Rinsed out…She placed a towel over my forehead. "How thoughtful; she knew I was sweating from part nervousness and part steam machine." Then, she smacked me on the forehead 4 times with something wooden that clinked. At this point I'm taciturn; I Didn't know what to say.
I knew I had to at least wait until she was finished rinsing my hair before I escaped. I was going to leave without a blow-dry. But then I wouldn't have lived the full experience and she would be offended.
After she blew, my hair dried and I checked it hadn't fallen out, I paid her 600 baht, just for her good effort.
I walked back to the hut like nothing happened. In a few days, the red will fade or fall out. Not so bad.
Moral of the story if you choose to get your hair done in Thailand, pick a place that can spell "shampoo"!
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