There is a certain brand of honesty in Vietnam that I am becoming addicted to. It hurts, but it hurts good.
Last week I managed to be out of the country long enough to get my hair cut. I came out of it reasonably unscathed. My expectations were met even if my hopes were not.
R's journey is different.
R's favourite (ie only) hairdresser did such a great job on his first attempt that my earlier opinion of Hanoi hairdressers was called into question. Not for long though. All subsequent attempts could only be described as vandalism.
Last weekend R also went for a hair cut. He was about 80% of the way through when he realised it wasn't going well. It was too late to do anything. He was at the Stockholm Syndrome stage of a bad hair cut ... where you have to abandon all hope and start psyching yourself into a new head.
At this point the owner casually walked past him and stopped and smiled and said - and I quote:- "When you walked in today you looked handsome but now you look ugly." Yes! He actually used the word ugly! And yes! The owner! R stayed glued to his chair, a pillar of salt, while the owner moved on to another happy customer.
Ah ... socialism ... just imagine if this guy owned a dress shop which catered to plus-sized women?
Later that evening, R went to his local bar. Tung (he of the "Hitler" fame) walked up to R and said: "Before you had longer hair and you looked very handsome. Now your haircut makes you look stupid." Medusa sat there stunned for a moment while Tung moved on to another happy customer. Luckily it was Vietnamese belly dancing night so the feeling passed when the music cranked up.
Later that evening Tung told R that he was his best friend. Go figure.
