Get a Trim, not a Visa.

I got my hair cut today, not normally something I’d feel the need to write home(page) about – apologies for shit internet pun – but it was incredible! I wasn’t taking any chances so I brought a wee photo along of me with short hair and took quite a while selecting which establishment would have the honour of my patronage. Shanghai is crammed with hairdressers, and they’re usually all empty. They’re all staffed by young blokes with ridiculously coiffed peacock hair dos as well so I chose the place where the barbour had the most reserved barnet. My particular ‘stylist’ had what can only be described as an asian afro with a rat tail on the front rather than the back. It trailed down the side of his face like a wet sock. But before I got to him a woman washed my hair and gave me a head massage. I hadn’t asked for this. After twenty minutes of scalp rubbing I began to fear I’d gone to the wrong shop entirely and started peeking around for some scissors. Before I could see any she had me in a kind of head shower that I think Dot Cotton might have used in Eastenders and then I was towelled down. Then I got my hair cut. Then I got my hair washed again and another head massage. The whole process took one hour and it cost 20 RMB.
In the same city I went for a medical so as to obtain my working visa. This included an x-ray, an ultra scan (as in jelly on my belly and a baby-finding device slipping all over my midriff) and a weird process where electrodes were attached to my fingers and cables were placed on my tummy via sticky pads. I felt like bloody Frankenstein! This all took half an hour and cost 740 RMB. Ridiculous.

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2 thoughts on “Get a Trim, not a Visa.

  1. I’m sitting at my desk in Windy Wellington snorting and giggling at your blogs while everyone stares at me like i’ve gone nuts. You’ve improved my workday ten fold. More please!

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