Continuing the subject of Turkish services, I think, that I have to write about Turkish hairdressing saloons, because their service is a little bit different from the Russian ones and I guess, European ones, too.
In Russia, you come to a hairdresser’s and your hairdresser washes your hair, cuts it, dries it with a hairdryer and shapes it. If you think that it is the same in here, you are mistaken. In every hairdressing or barber saloon, there are many young boys, who have their own roles according to their hierarchy. All of them hope to become a hairdresser one day, but, to reach their goal, they have to climb the career ladder, starting from the bottom of it.
Well, their career starts with brushing customers’ hair from the floor, bringing them tea, handing over the towels, scissors, brushes and do whatever their senior colleagues ask. In their free time, they are allowed to watch how their hairdresser boss cuts hair, blows hair dry, dyes and shapes it. The senior members of staff just scowl and snap at them. They always look tense and afraid of doing something wrong, and I feel sorry for them.
Some months later, they are allowed to wash customers’ hair and brush it, preparing it for a cutting, as well as holding a hair dryer, while boss is busy with customer’s hair. And now it is their turn to scowl and snap at the newcomers, who just clean the floor and make tea. One day, they become hairdressers themselves and open their own saloon, giving it their own name, something like “Kuaför Mehmet” or “Ahmet Kuaför”.
While a hairdresser cuts my hair, a shy boy offers me something to drink, and I ask for adaçayı (“Mountain tea”), which, in my opinion, is simple to prepare. To my surprise, the boy has a puzzled look on his face. Ten minutes later, I see in the mirror, as he sneaks into the room with a bag of mountain tea. As it happens, they ran out of Mountain tea and poor thing ran to buy it. “Sorry to be a trouble,” I say to my hairdresser. We laugh about it when my tea arrives, and shy boy, not understanding the subject of our amusement, looks even more scared.
“You know,” I say to my hairdresser as he proceeds cutting my hair, “I still didn’t figure out when I have to drink my tea. My hands are under the gown, and even if I try to drink it, the pieces of hair can fall in it. When you are through with my hair, my tea is always cold.”
“Well,” he answered, “Maybe it is just a gesture of hospitality or politeness, you don’t have to accept it.” One more thing to learn about Turkish mentality and traditions!
See you next week.