April 22, 2007

  • Bad Hair Day

    Benny, my hairdresser, is a funny guy.
    That's haha funny, not queer funny. Having returned from Europe, I
    was in need of a hair cut, especially with all the meetings I was
    about to embark upon, so I jumped on the Suzuki and zoomed across the
    Guandu bridge, up the hill to his salon. I parked right outside,
    Benny obviously having survived the day's rush, and went in.

    "How's it going Rob?" he
    asked, his wife (see? Not queer funny) counting money in the
    background.

    "Just fine mucker," I
    replied, "and you?"

    The small talk over, he asked how I
    wanted my hair to be cut.

    "Same as last time Benny," I
    said, referring to the excellent job he had done after I returned
    from South Africa. Damn, is that the last time I got my hair cut?

    Benny, it has to be said, was suitably
    impressed that I remembered his name.

    Sitting quietly in the chair, his wife
    brought me some hot green tea to drink, as Benny tried to work out
    what he had done with the electrical cable for the trimmers.

    In front of me were a few magazines,
    one of which had a picture of the disgraced Mayor of Taipei – Ma
    Ying Jeou. Ah yes, the famous cleaner than clean politician, whose
    shit does not smell, who is as uncorrupt as they come. That, at
    least, is what the electorate was led to believe until charges of
    embezzlement were brought up against him, more than slightly
    convenient for President Chen Shui-Bian, who was also more than
    merely under the spotlight recently for financial irregularities.

    "What do you think of him?" I
    asked Benny. "You like Ma?"

    "He's not bad," came the
    rather non-commital reply, which is Chinese speak for "Oh yes, I
    am a KMT supporter."

    "But he steals your money," I
    retorted.

    "Everyone steals your money,"
    Benny argued. Fair comment.

    Another of the magazines in front of me
    had the picture of a rather young and very attractive Taiwanese model
    on the cover.

    "She could steal all my money,"
    I said, a wry smile on my face, the by-product of many months of no
    sex, no love (cue lots of sympathy please).

    Benny's kid walked in at this point,
    kindergarten finally over for the day. 7.30 PM and the 4 year old is
    getting used to the Chinese work ethic already.

    "Say hi to the foreigner,"
    Benny said. After so many years in Taiwan I do not feel like a
    foreigner, but then again, I have never really felt a foreigner
    anywhere I go. It still bugs me that we non-Chinese are referred to
    as foreigners, and I try to remember if we English referred to
    non-English people in the same way, and if so, which century that may
    have been.

    "AAARRRGGGHHH!!!" came the
    rather unanticipated response from mini Benny. Not the usual reaction
    to someone seeing me for the first time. Usually if I am in the
    supermarket and a kid sees me – a non-Chinese – then he/she will
    generally stare and point, as if a Martian had just landed in the
    dairy department.

    Five minutes later, after some
    counselling from the mother, probably telling him that I am not going
    to take him away to another planet for an anal probe, he was all
    smiles and excited and chatting with me, as his father clipped yet
    more bits of my hair off my head.

    My hair finally looking almost
    respectable, I paid Benny's wife the money (the woman is in EVERY
    culture in charge of the money!) and left the salon – Benny and his
    kid eyeing up my Suzuki. I flipped him the keys and told him to take
    it for a spin.

    "You serious?" Benny asked,
    almost incredulously.

    "Sure," I said, almost
    adding, under my breath, "and next time you'd BETTER give me a
    discount."

    Mini Benny was placed in front of the
    main man, the engine revved up, and off they zoomed.

    "You do realise that if they don't
    come back, then I get you by default," I told his wife, thinking
    it probably was not a bad deal for me. Benny quite possibly would
    have felt the same way.

    Benny returned a couple of minutes
    later, and Benny's wife's fate was sealed once more. No lucky escape
    from the shackles for her. Benny handed me the keys, and I jumped on
    the Suzuki, tears from mini Benny. No, he was not distraught that
    your humble narrator was about to depart, but he was majorly upset
    that he was not being taken to Shi Lin on the bike.

    Poor kid – it was a tough day for
    him. He's learnt that Chinese have to work out long hours, that you don't always get the things life promises, and that
    shit happens, all in one day.