A New Tradition
Trip Start
Sep 05, 2006
1
16
33
Trip End
Sep 04, 2007
In the spirit of travel, it seems as though I´ve created an unintentional tradition. It started in Munich when I was tired of churches, architecture, castles and beerhausen and now it has become a pattern in Buenos Aires. I grow weary of tourism and decide I would like to take on the challenge of communicating how I would like my hair dyed in a foreign language.
In 2003 in Munich after my visit to the salon my long never-been dyed hair resulted in fire-engine red streaks mixed with a kind of dark purple. I was a bit nervous (actually, that´s kind of an understatement, I actually cried when I looked the short little locks with weird tin foil patches in them) but in the end I guess I fit in with the rest of the Germans and their crazy red hair.
This time, however, I had a plan and what I thought was a better knowledge of Spanish. And there´s nothing like a trip to the hairdresser to point out how much Spanish I still need to learn. Funny, Jorge Osorio never taught us how to say, ¨ I would like my hair razor-cut with bangs, feathered with purple lowlights and dark roots.¨
The salon was nice, trendy even. It was called ¨Urbe¨and located in the Palermo ¨SoHo¨ neighborhood, although there was no Houston St. to be found. The girl with long crimped hair and short blonde bangs resting a centimeter or so above her eyebrows even smiled as she told me to take a seat and they´d be right with me.
Then Enrique, my stylist, was ready for me and I explained vaguely what I wanted. Dark brown on top, dark purple underneath. We commenced and after almost 4 hours in the hair salon I ended up with brown hair (again) and pink-almost purple underneath. Not exactly pleased but not really that worried either as I have no aspirations to fix it currently. I did enjoy the challenge, but I don´t think I can sit still for that long in another salon for quite some time...
Now with the tradition perpetuated and the hair pink, I will continue to travel through Argentina, backpack full of all of the cute shoes and dresses that were so wonderfully cheap waiting till I enter the next hip city where I can fix the silly mess that I made of my mane.
In 2003 in Munich after my visit to the salon my long never-been dyed hair resulted in fire-engine red streaks mixed with a kind of dark purple. I was a bit nervous (actually, that´s kind of an understatement, I actually cried when I looked the short little locks with weird tin foil patches in them) but in the end I guess I fit in with the rest of the Germans and their crazy red hair.
This time, however, I had a plan and what I thought was a better knowledge of Spanish. And there´s nothing like a trip to the hairdresser to point out how much Spanish I still need to learn. Funny, Jorge Osorio never taught us how to say, ¨ I would like my hair razor-cut with bangs, feathered with purple lowlights and dark roots.¨
The salon was nice, trendy even. It was called ¨Urbe¨and located in the Palermo ¨SoHo¨ neighborhood, although there was no Houston St. to be found. The girl with long crimped hair and short blonde bangs resting a centimeter or so above her eyebrows even smiled as she told me to take a seat and they´d be right with me.
Then Enrique, my stylist, was ready for me and I explained vaguely what I wanted. Dark brown on top, dark purple underneath. We commenced and after almost 4 hours in the hair salon I ended up with brown hair (again) and pink-almost purple underneath. Not exactly pleased but not really that worried either as I have no aspirations to fix it currently. I did enjoy the challenge, but I don´t think I can sit still for that long in another salon for quite some time...
Now with the tradition perpetuated and the hair pink, I will continue to travel through Argentina, backpack full of all of the cute shoes and dresses that were so wonderfully cheap waiting till I enter the next hip city where I can fix the silly mess that I made of my mane.

