Hair cut, hair cut!

What big ears you have!

I called the barber at around 11am on Saturday and booked an appointment for 1.30, a cultural adjustment that I reckon I will probably never get used to.  Whilst slouching around trading abuse about football teams and reading red tops might not be everyones' definition of customer service, it is distinctly something I miss about getting my hair cut in Geneva. It's the third time I've been to this chap in Geneva, only the second time I've booked an appointment to see him.

The first time I just walked through the door and asked to have a hair cut. There followed a few sharp intakes of breath, the Genevoise equivalent of jobs worthiness. This time ok, but next time call ahead. A frosty reception that left me tempted to get up and leave. I stayed and the assistant barber did it. He was alright. I decided I'd return, so now I call ahead " je voudrais une rendez-vous avec...".

Interestingly the price of a hair cut has gone down on both subsequent trips and the welcome has got more and more friendly. Perhaps driven by the fact that we are both immigrants to the country, he's from Turkey. His French is a whole lot better than mine, but  the barber's chair is a good place to learn, especially because it's a 2nd language for him as well. I plonk down and say "courts, s'il vous plait". We then banter backwards and forwards about life, work, living in the city, and the fact that his favourite team, Barcelona, are playing Man U this weekend in the Champions' League Final. So I had to tell my, seeing United thrash my team at Old Trafford story in broken French - at least he was polite enough to laugh when I stopped talking.

In practice I try to show I've come to the end of a sentence in French by stopping talking. It's the only way I can think of to demonstrate to my interlocutor that they aren't going to get any more help to understanding my meaning.  The danger comes when some people, impressed by the one or two sentences that you actually have down pretty well, nod their heads and try to encourage more from you. Beware of this, that way lies unmasking and humiliation.

Still, I'm sat in a chair, covered in a luminous green sheet, mirror in front of me, and a guy waving sharp implements in the air near my ears, so trying to think of what to say next in French is a bit of a distraction. Then he sets fire to what I can only describe as an oversized cotton bud and proceeds to tamp it against my neck and ears!  I am getting old? He's not done that before and I take it as a compliment that my French is improving and he's decided to accept me on his client list. Still, it was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling, and I've decided I'm going to learn the French for "please don't set my head on fire!"

Haircut 1,000
Between my flat and the barbers, there are perhaps another eight places I could get a hair cut, though this is the nearest one that is only for Hommes, so that's why I go there. But if you are thinking of starting a business in Geneva, my advice would be don't go in for cutting hair, it's a crowded market place.