Korean Haircut How-to

Despite my deep-rooted and lasting desire to grow my hair "mermaid long", I recently submitted myself to my first Korean haircut. Hot dog, was it ever an experience. After asking my ever-so-helpful ko-teacher to write down the Korean translation for "trim", only to have her write down what google translate later revealed as "big cut", I venture out into the mean streets of Yeosu in search of a hair salon. This was probably the easiest mission ever since "hair clubs" dot the streets of Korea like hole-in-the-wall restaurants. So, in I walk. I check my umbrella at the door; as is the custom in Korea, where during monsoon season every and all salon/restaurant/store has an umbrella condom machine and receptacle at the entry. I am then greeted by the nicest and least English-speaking personnel. Win. Here, I engage my inner Korean and drop a bow and a greeting on them before basically exhausting my knowledge of Hangul by saying "조금". This means 'little'. When paired with sign language, I am sure that this adequately expresses my desire for a trim and my aversion to "big cut".

I sit in the chair, and the I am introduced to my stylist. He is at once the most effeminate and heterosexual man I have EVER met. His scissors, combs, and blow dryer call a bejeweled HOLSTER at his hip their home. And really, why wouldn't they?

Then, he gets to work on the cut. One man, 5 pairs of scissors. Hair in my face for the duration. I have no idea whether or not my broken Hangul and sweet gesturing has indeed conveyed my desire for "just a little off the ends", I start to worry that my Ko has phoned ahead to ensure that I leave with a Korean bowl-cut..

The hair is parted, I still have hair. Phewf. Thinking the fun is over, I stand and start to walk towards the counter. Too soon, first, I am supposed to follow an underage child worker into the back to have my hair washed. Slightly backwards by my standards, but hey, in Korea you do call 119 in case of emergency. So, I sit down and put my head in the sink behind me. It is now that my height becomes a problem in Korea. Again. Sweet sassy molassy, is that sink ever far from where my shoulders naturally sit. No matter, I'll power through.

Then, following the wash that followed the cut, comes the towel dry -this preteen girl has her WAY with my ears. She sticks her fingers right in there. It was not entirely unpleasant, though she may have made contact with my brain, thus robbing me of my ability to do basic math. I am ushered back to the first chair, and my super-fem hair dresser is fetched from his smoke break. No less than 3 asians with no less than 5 blow dryers between them get going on my hair. Korean efficiency is real. Hair dry, my stylist shoos away his help and proceeds to curl my whole head of hair.

When all is said and done, I saunter questioningly over to the counter. I only have about 50, 000 won in my wallet, so I reach for my bank card and don't even try to decipher what price she tells me before handing it over. I get the receipt, fully prepared for the whole song and dance to amount to anything over 50, 000. Not a chance. 12, 000 won and a "trim" later, I walk out of the salon with the nicest hair I've had since prom...into a monsoon.

Double win.