I am surprised, actually, to realise that I have not yet written about my hairdresser yet, as being able to get a regular duz fön- hair straightening- is one of my favourite things about living here. Most of you know this, so it will come as no surprise that one of the first things I did when I guests left was head down to Serkan Bey and his assistant/makeover girl, whose name shamefully escapes me.
There is, as far as I know, no such thing as a hair appointment in Turkey. Or maybe I just don’t speak enough Turkish to make one. Anyway, the way it works for me is that I turn up and wait for Serkan to finish with whatever other customers he has. This may be none, or I may have to wait for an hour as I did on Tuesday (oops.. know you all know I went twice in one week. First time ever, I promise). So like many things here, it’s not to be done if you are in a rush. But when it is finally my turn, I get a thorough shampooing—Turks don’t use conditioner—and then Serkan rips through my knots with a brush. I think my hair is drying into little shreds of its former self, but when I can get it blow waved once a week, who cares? It sure looks better than it did when it was healthy! Serkan, nor any of the other hairdressers I have been to, thinks much of your pain and blithey tips my head back into place when I am burnt by the brush or wince because he is ripping hair out in knotty chunks. He does do a great end result though, and he charges only 5 YTL (about 5 AUS dollars) for the end result. I also usually get a very sweet cup of nescafe and lots of smiles into the deal. Serkan shows zero interest in learning English or in understanding my Turkish. This is unusual, actually, and I still sometimes ask him how he is or something very simple that I know I say clearly. But as far as Serkan is concerned, I don’t speak Turkish and so he just smiles and keeps brushing. Today, in an unprecedented show of communicativeness, he showed me an article of an Australian getting arrested (I think) in Taksim. But I’m pretty sure he likes me at the end of the day.
On to the eyebrows, also a bargain at 5 YTL a cotton weave. My eyebrows lady, in stark contrast to Serkan, is profusely chatty and bizzarely confident of my grasp of Turkish. She greets me in the street with two kisses and asks me many Turkish questions, to which I usually respond with the Turkish for ‘yes’ or ‘good’. This seems to cover a lot of ground and she also seems to be fairly positive about our relationship. We talk colours, ‘cause we both want to learn them. She approves of a wide variety of possibilities for my hair and is working on getting me to have green or yellow nails (like hers) to go with the blue hair that I once casually admired, and is know firmly on the schedule as far as Serkan s concerned. All of this ‘conversation’ and lack of makes for a fairly surreal experience, frankly, but I suppose it is very memorable and I do get great hair and brows.
There is, as far as I know, no such thing as a hair appointment in Turkey. Or maybe I just don’t speak enough Turkish to make one. Anyway, the way it works for me is that I turn up and wait for Serkan to finish with whatever other customers he has. This may be none, or I may have to wait for an hour as I did on Tuesday (oops.. know you all know I went twice in one week. First time ever, I promise). So like many things here, it’s not to be done if you are in a rush. But when it is finally my turn, I get a thorough shampooing—Turks don’t use conditioner—and then Serkan rips through my knots with a brush. I think my hair is drying into little shreds of its former self, but when I can get it blow waved once a week, who cares? It sure looks better than it did when it was healthy! Serkan, nor any of the other hairdressers I have been to, thinks much of your pain and blithey tips my head back into place when I am burnt by the brush or wince because he is ripping hair out in knotty chunks. He does do a great end result though, and he charges only 5 YTL (about 5 AUS dollars) for the end result. I also usually get a very sweet cup of nescafe and lots of smiles into the deal. Serkan shows zero interest in learning English or in understanding my Turkish. This is unusual, actually, and I still sometimes ask him how he is or something very simple that I know I say clearly. But as far as Serkan is concerned, I don’t speak Turkish and so he just smiles and keeps brushing. Today, in an unprecedented show of communicativeness, he showed me an article of an Australian getting arrested (I think) in Taksim. But I’m pretty sure he likes me at the end of the day.
On to the eyebrows, also a bargain at 5 YTL a cotton weave. My eyebrows lady, in stark contrast to Serkan, is profusely chatty and bizzarely confident of my grasp of Turkish. She greets me in the street with two kisses and asks me many Turkish questions, to which I usually respond with the Turkish for ‘yes’ or ‘good’. This seems to cover a lot of ground and she also seems to be fairly positive about our relationship. We talk colours, ‘cause we both want to learn them. She approves of a wide variety of possibilities for my hair and is working on getting me to have green or yellow nails (like hers) to go with the blue hair that I once casually admired, and is know firmly on the schedule as far as Serkan s concerned. All of this ‘conversation’ and lack of makes for a fairly surreal experience, frankly, but I suppose it is very memorable and I do get great hair and brows.
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