I am down in Phnom Penh for a fortnight of language training and the theme so far is primates & hair.
The VSO office has moved to near the Olympic stadium and it was with much excitement & anticipation that I discovered there is a brand new multi-plex cinema nearby at the city mall, the first in Cambodia. For $4 Lou, Katie & myself spent 2 hours stepping out of life in Cambodia and into the first world one of suspension of reality. We went to watch Rise (or return as I keep referring to it) of the Planet of the Apes. It was a near religious experience with Lou filling up with tears at the sight of popcorn. The film was good but from my Bangkok experience I know that it could have been dreadful (Insidious) and a good time would still have been had by all. It is with mixed emotions that I look forward to going back to see Harry Potter - final installment - in 3-D, my first 3-D experience but I have been corrupted by Dr K's opinion on that one.
Then on Friday night a group of us went to see a performance of the traditional monkey dance with a contemporary twist. Seven traditionally trained khmer dancers have spent hours watching video footage of monkeys and choreographed a performance loosely based on the original moves of the monkey dance. It was absolutely fantastic and we were all blown away by their athleticism and convincing monkey moves (better than ROTPOTA and free!). Very tempted to return next friday for a repeat viewing.
Then there was the small matter of 6 months with no hair cut that needed to be addressed so abandoning the attempts to fill my head with new khmer words or even remember the ones I should still know from 4 months ago, I went in search of a hairdresser.
Now it is important to note that I have been going to the same hair dresser for nearly the last 20 years - Clive. I can count on one hand the number of times I have confronted my trust and control issues and allowed someone else to cut my hair instead - 1) As an expedition medic in Namibia - Kelly - who was a journalist with a hairdressing past. 2) Twice in my 2 years I lived in Australia - Kylie - who also introduced me to the controversial area of highlights. 3) Lou - 4 months ago in a hotel room in Kampong Cham who I reluctantly accepted a 'trim' from.
London is the salon that many VSO and ex-VSO volunteers have recommended so I looked down the barrel of the prospect of wearing a hat for the next 3 months and made the leap of faith. This was especially brave as Janice had been there last week for a trim and now her hair is so short she can't tie it up. If you can try to imagine going to have your hair cut with no language to really explain what style you want - feel my fear!
On arrival I was sat down and a nice lady promptly squirted shampoo on my hair and started to lather up as I sat upright in the chair vaguely bemused and wondering where the sink was. What followed was a 20 minute head, neck and back massage with an awful lot of lather. Then just when I was beginning to get quite concerned about the prospect of the lady pouring water all over me whilst I sat in the chair and getting soaking wet, I was move to the back room where I discovered there were in fact more traditional reclining chairs and sinks. Further head massaging ensued, complementary ice tea was supped.
Back to the chair where the surly, mute hairdresser - the complete antithesis of Clive - came up to me with the one word question 'short?'. I anxiously tried to explain the concept of a trim and the need to be able to tie my hair up and the end of the shearing (in khm-english and international sign language). With no further discourse he than began to hack - due to his semi-blunt scissors rather than any lack of skill - at my locks. It was when he began to drag the scissors down from my roots to tips that I started to get really quite concerned. We (hairdresser & recipient) both became quite distracted by a wealthy couple bringing their spoilt toddler in for a trim and both ended up watching as the child was with much distraction and semi-constraint techniques cornered into having a haircut. It would appear that the staff in London can cut hair on a moving target (toddler's hairdresser) and with out actually looking at what they are doing (my hairdresser).
My shoulder length hair (eek!) was then blow dried and for the first time in 6 months the hair on the nape of my neck was briefly dry. Just to make the point surly-silent hairdresser pulled my hair up to demonstrate that it could still (barely) be tied up then he walked off. End of haircut!
To be fair I would have paid the $9 purely for the head and neck massage.
So it is with shorter hair I continue to struggle with learning khmer despite the apparent lobotomy of my language centre and deal with the encroaching damp and moldiness of my guest house room. Yesterday I discovered my bag, birkenstocks and purse were all covered in a thick layer of green mold - so I guess if I get a strep throat I can always just lick them for a cure.
The VSO office has moved to near the Olympic stadium and it was with much excitement & anticipation that I discovered there is a brand new multi-plex cinema nearby at the city mall, the first in Cambodia. For $4 Lou, Katie & myself spent 2 hours stepping out of life in Cambodia and into the first world one of suspension of reality. We went to watch Rise (or return as I keep referring to it) of the Planet of the Apes. It was a near religious experience with Lou filling up with tears at the sight of popcorn. The film was good but from my Bangkok experience I know that it could have been dreadful (Insidious) and a good time would still have been had by all. It is with mixed emotions that I look forward to going back to see Harry Potter - final installment - in 3-D, my first 3-D experience but I have been corrupted by Dr K's opinion on that one.
Then on Friday night a group of us went to see a performance of the traditional monkey dance with a contemporary twist. Seven traditionally trained khmer dancers have spent hours watching video footage of monkeys and choreographed a performance loosely based on the original moves of the monkey dance. It was absolutely fantastic and we were all blown away by their athleticism and convincing monkey moves (better than ROTPOTA and free!). Very tempted to return next friday for a repeat viewing.
Then there was the small matter of 6 months with no hair cut that needed to be addressed so abandoning the attempts to fill my head with new khmer words or even remember the ones I should still know from 4 months ago, I went in search of a hairdresser.
Now it is important to note that I have been going to the same hair dresser for nearly the last 20 years - Clive. I can count on one hand the number of times I have confronted my trust and control issues and allowed someone else to cut my hair instead - 1) As an expedition medic in Namibia - Kelly - who was a journalist with a hairdressing past. 2) Twice in my 2 years I lived in Australia - Kylie - who also introduced me to the controversial area of highlights. 3) Lou - 4 months ago in a hotel room in Kampong Cham who I reluctantly accepted a 'trim' from.
London is the salon that many VSO and ex-VSO volunteers have recommended so I looked down the barrel of the prospect of wearing a hat for the next 3 months and made the leap of faith. This was especially brave as Janice had been there last week for a trim and now her hair is so short she can't tie it up. If you can try to imagine going to have your hair cut with no language to really explain what style you want - feel my fear!
On arrival I was sat down and a nice lady promptly squirted shampoo on my hair and started to lather up as I sat upright in the chair vaguely bemused and wondering where the sink was. What followed was a 20 minute head, neck and back massage with an awful lot of lather. Then just when I was beginning to get quite concerned about the prospect of the lady pouring water all over me whilst I sat in the chair and getting soaking wet, I was move to the back room where I discovered there were in fact more traditional reclining chairs and sinks. Further head massaging ensued, complementary ice tea was supped.
Back to the chair where the surly, mute hairdresser - the complete antithesis of Clive - came up to me with the one word question 'short?'. I anxiously tried to explain the concept of a trim and the need to be able to tie my hair up and the end of the shearing (in khm-english and international sign language). With no further discourse he than began to hack - due to his semi-blunt scissors rather than any lack of skill - at my locks. It was when he began to drag the scissors down from my roots to tips that I started to get really quite concerned. We (hairdresser & recipient) both became quite distracted by a wealthy couple bringing their spoilt toddler in for a trim and both ended up watching as the child was with much distraction and semi-constraint techniques cornered into having a haircut. It would appear that the staff in London can cut hair on a moving target (toddler's hairdresser) and with out actually looking at what they are doing (my hairdresser).
My shoulder length hair (eek!) was then blow dried and for the first time in 6 months the hair on the nape of my neck was briefly dry. Just to make the point surly-silent hairdresser pulled my hair up to demonstrate that it could still (barely) be tied up then he walked off. End of haircut!
To be fair I would have paid the $9 purely for the head and neck massage.
So it is with shorter hair I continue to struggle with learning khmer despite the apparent lobotomy of my language centre and deal with the encroaching damp and moldiness of my guest house room. Yesterday I discovered my bag, birkenstocks and purse were all covered in a thick layer of green mold - so I guess if I get a strep throat I can always just lick them for a cure.
Ah it look just fine! Shame about the birkenstocks though love Kirsa xx
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