Welcome to My China

Yesterday was my 'day off' but I went into the office anyway for a Chinese lesson - which was cancelled because no one else showed up. So, instead of rushing back after the lesson to make sure I was at home to let the cleaner in, I had time on my hands and I thought I may as well walk home and look out for a hairdresser on the way. I know there are big, fancy hairdressers in the city centre, but I thought a nice little suburban one would do.

Coming down our street, carefully walking on the very edge of the pavement I managed not to step on any of the pavers that suddenly tip and splash very bad water all over your feet. I passed a young lady who was washing her hair on the side-walk - pouring water over her head to rinse out the shampoo into the gutter. I peered briefly into each shop that displayed a barber's pole, but they only had a few girls sitting around on a sofa or preening themselves on a chair in front of a mirror on the wall.

I was almost home, just before the knee-high fruit-stall under a canvas awning, and I noticed what looked like a genuine hairdressers. There were six chairs, each facing a mirror with a little glass shelf, three on each side wall. An imitation grape-vine (bearing huge plastic strawberries, tiny plastic bananas, and almost real-looking plastic mandarins) decorated the white walls, winding its way over and around each mirror. A lady was sitting under one of those hair-dryer hoods with her hair in curlers - this had to be a hairdressers!

"Just do it!" I told myself as I moved away from the knee-high fruit-stall, and down the step through the doorway.

There were startled looks all round. Two young men, obviously hair-stylists (longish dyed, styled hair) stood up, and came towards me. I indicated with snipping fingers that I wanted a hair-cut. They all looked quite concerned, and chattered excitedly amongst themselves. An older woman, presumably the boss started giving instructions to the two young men, and they invited me to come through to the back room. I did the snippy fingers thing again and tried to explain that I didn't want a wash, just a cut. But I wasn't getting through so I decided I may as well go on through, what's the worst that could happen?

As I stuck my head through the doorway into the back room there were more startled looks. A couple of girls were in there, lounging around and talking. There was one of those "lie-down-and have-your-hair-washed" sinks - an orange vinyl bed leading up to a black sink - and one of the girls was doing her laundry in it. Hurriedly she removed her wet underwear from the sink, and one of the boys grabbed a towel and wiped down the orange lounge. I lay myself down with my head over the sink and tried to think relaxing thoughts, still with my hand-bag over my shoulder and still clutching my umbrella in one hand under the plastic cloak they put over me.

I heard them talking and I recognised the words "ting de dong" which means "hear and understand". I chuckled and said out loud "bu ting de dong" meaning "not hear and understand", which I hoped would leave them wondering just how much I was understanding.

The young laundry girl did my wash. The shampoo bottle must have been nearly empty because she pumped and pumped it into her hand - I wonder if she had been using the shampoo to wash her clothes too. She massaged my head thoroughly with strong fingers. Suddenly she leaned over my face and smiled and said, "Welcome to my China!" I guess she had been working hard at remembering a few words from English lessons at school. I smiled and replied "Xie Xie! Thank you!" and felt a little more relaxed.

The wash was done and it was one of the boys turn to cut my hair. He showed me with his fingers how much he was intending to cut off, and I nodded, and he got on with it. He worked quickly and confidently and I tried not to worry about the results. I was glad he didn't do too much moussing and blowdrying. And at least my hair wasn't flopping in my face any more.

I managed to ask the cost in Chinese - aware that I should have asked before I started - and I thought he said 18. I fumbled in my purse and handed the boss-lady two tens. Said, "thank you" and popped the money straight into a locked box, and it was obvious I wasn't getting any change. I said my good-byes and headed out the door.

A little old man was coming towards me, I was half aware as I fumbled to put my purse away that he wasn't getting out of the way. I looked up and realised he was holding an enamel cup and leering at me hopefully. I popped a coin into his cup and he let me pass.

And I still had time to get home before the cleaner arrived.