Jonbu the baker

I went for a haircut yesterday. Wanted to get one in Nagoya, but in an effort to save a measly few hundreds of yen, I got one locally. Never thought I’d get a haircut at a salon built for farmers. But this is Japan. Even farmers are a stylish bunch that does street racing in the middle of the night, waking up neighbouring sanyo intern students in their sleep with the engine revving.

It was called “Salon France”. The salon itself was pretty much an extension of someone’s home. The door at the back of the salon leads to the guy’s house.

When he was working on me, his head was always turned to the tv at my 4 o’clock position. The world’s greatest show, the Japanese “Who wants to be a millionaire” was on. When I first came to Japan, that show’s suspense would kill me, many times over. At the answer-revealing moment, they would take the drumroll soundtrack from the American version, and loop it eight times. And I’d keep wanting to watch more of it. Now I’ve gotten numb to the way they create suspense. It’s gonna be so boring when I go back to Canada.

Here’s some initial feedback I got when I returned:
(Paraphrased into jonygrammar)

Steve: “You actually look more Japanese than you did with that previous cut from HK.”

Alex: “This isn’t much of a haircut, it’s more of a dye job.”

Boss: “O! Ohaiyoo gozaimasu”

Co-worker: “I called you earlier”

Not to confuse the matter, I was half an hour late this morning. My co-worker was asked to call me. Incidently I forgot my cellphone on my floor when I left, so never got the call. This lateness cancelled out the haircut. So all is good.

Shirley surprised me with this picture. (”oh my god”).That’s me having a haircut in oblivion, totally oblivious to her presence.

“The Anpachi salon with someone in it, for once.”

As you can tell she was probably laughing while taking this.

Here’s what she had to say about this picture:
“keekee.”
.