Hair

On a happier note, I did get my hair cut. I'm not the kind of person who cares what my hair looks like. Unfortunately, I think married and unmarried women alike should care. It really makes a difference in your outlook on life if you know that you like your hair. Well, now I like my hair because now I don't have to wear it in a ponytail all the time, not that I had to before but I was just too lazy to do anything with it. I went to a nearby hair salon. Here they have two kinds of kuafor's (turkish word for hair cutting place). The one for men and the one for women. Here is a men's one that my husband and kids go to.

Usually one man owns the shop and has regulars from the nearby area. Like us. We are now regulars because I was very happy with my kids' haircuts. My husbands hair cut was 5 lira and each kid was 10. Great. I still cut Cinci's on my own. He's too wiggly.

Anyway, when Jonathan came home from work I went to the salon. Well, first and foremost I called my turkish/american friend and asked her how to say "I want my hair layered and no bangs". I wrote it down in my trusty notepad that I take with my in the back pocket of my jeans. Then, I stopped by my neighbors apartment and asked her how much her haircut was so I wouldn't be taken advantage of because I'm a foreigner. Then I ate a Dido bar (turkish version of Kit Kat) as I walked briskly down the road. I entered the salon and it was empty. Then the turkish men came out of the back and said "Hos geldiniz"and waited for me to order them around, which is what I later learned that the Turkish ladies do when they walk in. I asked them the price, was satisfied, and then sat down, after they helped me take my jacket off and hung it up for me. The hair stylists were men but they were very manly turkish men. Not like the kind of men you find cutting hair in the States. I told my hairstylist what I wanted. He set to work. We didn't have to make conversation which was nice. It's kind of tedious talking to the people that cut your hair. Not always though. Anyway, he cut it, dried it and began to style it. I don't like it when they style it because where am I going? Out? No. Home. I'm just going to put it back so it doesn't fall in the dinner I'm making. But I was interested to see what he would do to my hair. Really I wanted to see how turkified I could get. And I did get turkified. All those dinner parties I've gone to that were hosted by my husband's work were filled with attractive, very fancy turkish ladies. Now I know what they do before they get there. They spend 5 lira and 45 minutes at the salon.

I paid and they put my jacket on me and made sure my hair was covered before I walked out into the rain. The whole evening I debated whether I should take a picture of my hair. I didn't and I know my friend Aimee will be mad at me. She got her hair cut this week too, here in Istanbul, and she posted pictures of her "turkification". I'm a slacker. All I have are pictures of me taken by myself after I've washed my hair and done absolutely nothing with it except brush it. Sorry friends. I promise to take a picture after my next "turkification" session.

I'm off to eat some of my latest favorite dessert. Turkish delight. A pound for a dollar fifty. Tell me not to eat the whole bag tonight!