Having a Haircut on Tenerife… I’d Rather be Bitten by a Vampire

Posted: August 17, 2009 in Life, Spain, Tenerife, Travel
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

That header might be a bit misleading; hairdressers on Tenerife are generally very good. I mean have you seen Canarian girls’ hair… beautiful and wonderfully conditioned. Oops, came over all a bit Toni & Guy there.

I keep on meaning to ask how other ex-pats cope with a visit to the hairdresser. It’s one of those million little things that you don’t think about when moving to another country – how to tell the hairdresser what you want in another language. Not that it’s a real problem for me. ‘Tres con la maquina aqui, aqui y aqui y casi lo mismo arriba’. Probably not technically correct, but way over the net and I don’t tend to emerge with something which looks as though it was cut with blunt scissors which is what used to happen on the island I grew up on.

One of the main problems I have with my hairdresser in La Villa in La Orotava is the mirrors. They are the least friendly mirrors I have ever had the misfortune to look into. By the time the hairdresser asks me how I want my hair cut, I feel like replying ‘just pass me a razor for my wrists and let’s be done with this once and for all.’

The situation isn’t helped by the fact that by the time I eventually give in to Andy’s repeated ‘it’s really time you got your haircut… you’ve got Jose Mourinho hair’ (unfortunately I don’t have his Latin good looks to go with it), it’s a right mess. So the face looking back at me from the mirror looks as though it’s wearing a Carnaval wig. I can almost hear the mirror chuckle with evil glee as it goes to work highlighting my flaws and magnifying them for all the people in the peluqeria to see.

After the hair it’s my face, which seems to have turned a similar colour to my hair and dead-for-a-week grey isn’t a particularly attractive look.  The bags under my eyes look as though they could comfortably hold the week’s shopping. It doesn’t look as though I’ve shaved for days and the hobo bristle is a weird mixture of grey, black and… ginger! But worst of all this time was the discovery of a strange black growth on my bottom lip.

“What the… ?” and suddenly the hypochondriac in me was off and running.

I immediately moved closer to the mirror and pulled and twisted my lip to get a better look. There was definitely a worrying stain that I’d never seen before. The sign of some disease which was probably going to result in half my face falling off.

At least it distracted me from the horrors of having my hair cut until it was all over and I rushed out to find Andy.

“There’s something really odd on my lip,” and I started gurning again in the middle of La Villa.

Andy couldn’t see anything and when I got home and checked it out in the mirror in our house, there was nothing there.  I’m telling you, hairdressers’ mirrors are evil. You’d think hairdressers would do something about this. Surely it can’t be good for business? You’re supposed to look good after you get your haircut, not like a circus freak (no offence to circus freaks).

Anyway, I’m off to the graveyard to find a vampire so I don’t have to go through this again.

By the way the mirrors in the men’s toilets in Zakynthos airport are fantastic. They are the only mirrors that I ever remember looking into and thinking ‘wow, you look good’. But that was over 20 years ago and I had a golden tan at the time… I miss those mirrors.

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Comments
  1. Alison says:

    Lol! I am back to PDLC on Saturday for a week – you should not be to hard to spot now I have such a detailed description of you!!

  2. dragojac says:

    Absolutely. I’ll be the one with a gang of kids following me, pointing and laughing. 🙂

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