Haircut Hullaballoo

I needed a haircut. So, I naturally got some advice from friends with good-looking hair and headed to Mong Kok, an older, more gritty (as gritty as it gets, atleast) district in Hong Kong. Absolutely lost with my friends directions (Exit, turn right and right. Ask for Peter), I gave up and settled for the first barber pole I saw.

Mocha Hair, here I come!

I head into the damp alley where the arrow leads me to, a big 2/F next to it. As I walk into alley, an older wrestler-of-a-woman barks at me. Confused, I tiptoe around her and head up one flight of stairs...to the second floor. WRONG. Rookie mistake.

Little did I know, but I climb the stairs and into the first floor establishment. I walk in, and continue to walk despite no indication of this being a hair salon. Soon, I find myself in the middle of an operating kitchen for a Japanese restaurant. After getting stares from the smoking cooks, I have to slyly step my way out of the kitchen. I hurry down the stairs, which the wrestler lady has been mopping and slip. Ankle twisted, I go back onto the street and try to determine what went wrong.

The hair salon looks like it is only one flight of stairs up! Only after a few minutes of critical thinking do I realize in most of the world, the 1st floor is actually the ground floor. Rookie. Mistake. Aside: I also believe that my conception of the second floor looking like the first floor is because the headroom in Asian rooms is a bit lower (for maybe obvious reasons).

When I head back into the damp alleyway, another obstacle joins wrestler woman. A man with large crates transporting Hello Kitty gear (to the sushi restaurant?) stands between me and my haircut. Determined as ever, I maneuver past both and get my hair did.

Victory.

Ankle still slightly sore. Hair looks OK.

1 pound lighter (the hair, get it),
Danyal