The Great Haircut Adventure

Before I left Ohio, I got my hair cut extra short because I knew it might take awhile for me to find a new stylist in Tbilisi. This kept prompting my cousin, who visited the first week I arrived in Georgia, to keep asking, “Do you usually wear your hair so short?” and “Do you really like your hair that short?” I guess he wasn’t a fan of the extra short cut.

My usual time between haircuts is 6 weeks, but this extra short strategy bought me an additional 6 weeks. Finally, I had to admit that I was looking pretty shaggy, so the hunt for a salon (sometimes called a saloon here) started in earnest. I asked a few friends, but the decision was made for me when my good friend Lena sent me a text saying she’d made an appointment for me at a salon within easy walking distance of our apartment. She couldn’t go with me, but she was sure they spoke English. Just walk up the hill to 34 Paliashvili Street and they’ll be expecting you, she said.

So, with plenty of time to spare, I headed up the hill to 34 Paliashvili Street. Big surprise—there is no 34 Palishvili Street! There’s a 32 and a 36, but definitely no 34. Just a lot of air where 34 should be. This is not a translation problem—the numbers in Georgia are the same as in the U.S. This is a problem of a missing building! Picture me walking back and forth between 32 and 34, looking really hard for a building with the number 34 on it, but finding nothing except a great expanse of sidewalk with nothing adjacent to it. Hmmm, I think, hmmm.

34 Paliashvili should be attached to 32!

Finally I decide that I have to phone a friend. I already have many friends here, but of course I call my husband. He picks up and says, “I can’t talk now, I’m in a meeting.” This leaves me wondering why he picked up the call. Then I decide the only logical thing is to call Lena, who made my appointment. She hadn’t told me the name of the salon, so I couldn’t call there directly. Lena double checked her info and confirmed that they had told her #34. She hung up to call them and said she’d call me back. Meanwhile, I’m looking kind of silly just standing there next to the air at what should’ve been 34 Paliashvili Street.

My phone rings. It’s Lena. The salon is really at 44 Paliashvili! Turn west and keep walking until you pass a park, a school, another park, cross the street, and it will be on your left up a short staircase. Ah, there it is. Wait, there are two salons right next to each other, each up a short staircase. Now what? Dig deep into the brain cells and remember that Lena told me a few days ago that the salon had white Christmas lights in the window. Finally, Salon Excellence is found.

The white Christmas lights are barely visible in the window.

I gather myself so that I don’t appear to be breathing too heavily and push open the door. I think I’ll be greeted by the sight of women getting their hair cut, but instead I’m greeted by the sight of two big, burly men drinking espresso from tiny, delicate espresso cups. It took me a second to realize that they were waiting for their wives. This doesn’t happen too often in the U.S., but many Georgian women don’t drive so they depend on their husbands or others to get around. I shared the waiting room couch with the guys and pretended to read the Russian language versions of The Enquirer and People Magazine until my name was called. There didn’t seem to be any magazines in Georgian, or of course I would’ve read those (haha!).

My stylist, Nellie, called my name and I entered the inner sanctum. That’s when I found out that Nellie speaks barely any English—although considerably more than I speak Georgian. I did my best to pantomime what I wanted by pulling my hair up and making finger scissors or pointing to shaggy parts and making stinky eyes. She gave me a lot of really confused looks until finally she said, “Okay, I’m ready.”

She proceeded to treat my hair like she was a great sculptor and my hair was her current masterpiece. I don’t know if this is the Georgian style of cutting hair or just Nellie’s style, but I felt like the center of her world for the next 20 minutes or so. She would lift, fluff, cut, clip like any stylist, but she was completely zoned in on my hair—or maybe I should say on each and every hair on my head. Maybe the fact that we couldn’t converse while she cut had something to do with it. It was definitely the quietest haircut I’ve ever had.

I never wear my glasses during a haircut, so it’s always a bit of a surprise when I see the final product at the end. I’m pretty sure Nellie was practically trembling with fear that I wouldn’t like it, but I put on my glasses to see a fresh new look. It’s a great haircut, and I especially love the back. She looked so relieved when I smiled and told her I liked it.

Believe it or not, all of the personal attention I got from Nellie only cost 23 lari (about $14). I was so happy with the whole experience that I gave my new stylist a thank-you kiss—Georgian style!