All I asked was where we could get a hair cut.... Let's just say that was a VERY BAD move.
The lady at our guest house phoned someone, and we were warned not to pay more than $2 USD each. I should have known that no one could do a good hair cut for $2. A guy showed us the way, stopping to grab us bike on the way, which we pedalled down the wrong side of the main road of Vientiane, dodging cars and trucks.
The salon was owned by the fattest woman I've seen in all of Asia. James went first. He now looks like he is recovering from chemotherapy treatment, with some little bald spiky spots and some longer, very fine downy bits. She sure went to town with the thinning scissors. And James looked and smelled very dapper with the combination of hair oil and mousse that was smoothed through his thinning locks.
I thought I was safe - just a wee trim of the ends. The Farrah Fawcett blow dry was deceiving though. When I came home, I saw that the hair around my face, that I have been carefully growing for years, was all gone. Just shaggy clumps that don't even reach behind my ears.
I cried. I swore. I'm still not over it. Just ask James.
Lesson: never do cheap Laotian haircuts. Even if you have split ends from diving and sunny Thai beaches. Never. Ever.
Post Script from James: After 24 hours, Catherine couldn't handle looking at my motly locks anymore. Only drastic measures could rectify the situation. The end result; for the first time since I actually had chemotherapy over 20 years ago, I am bald. As for the AK47...
