Istanbul Finale - Brannan gets knifed by a Turk

Ok, so it's a little bit of a sensationalist title, so I'll explain: one of the last items on the agenda before leaving Istanbul was to turn this dirty hippie:

Wowsa.  Look who some nice people let their daughter marry

Back into the suave, cosmopolitan looker we all know and love:

Err...not my best look either...

and unfortunately (As most dirty hippies know) the only way to make that transformation is to boldly march into a Turkish barbershop and announce: "Make me into a Turk!"  Only little did I realize that I was demanding the most harsh, vigorous, and all-encompassing shave-and-a-haircut ("two-bits") of my young life.  Following is the torture-prison that is a Turkish barbershop.

When we found the barbershop, there were just a couple of Turks hanging out, doing barbershop-y things...

More or less...

so I indicated that I would like a shave and a haircut, something that apparently still happens.  The guy didn't speak more than a few words of english, but it was pretty apparent what I needed.  When I took off my hat, he deflatedly said "Whooof" and a lot of things in Turkish to the other barber, and they both laughed.  Not a good start.

The first item on the agenda was the shave, which started off well enough.  There was the lathering with the shaving brush, the cream was nice and warm and smelled rich and exotic...but then things turned serious.  From one of the drawers at his station, the barber pulled this:

Uh-oh

Yes: the dreaded Straight razor, also known affectionately, according to Wikipedia, as the "Cut-throat razor," which features prominently in "Sweeny Todd" Yay! 

My barber plying his trade...at least that's what it felt like

Actually he was very, very good, and it was a fine shave, as I didn't move a single millimeter at any point in the 3 hour process.  Travel is all about learning new things about the world and yourself, and I found out that fear of accidentally having your throat cut is a great motivator for me.

That done, it was time to move onto something else I didn't expect, something Melanie and I have dubbed: "The Face Floss."  I could never make something like this up, but he took dental floss, wound it between his fingers, and attached another piece which he put in his mouth.  He put the strings on my cheekbones and somehow, with a back and forth movement of his head, twisted the strings so that they pulled out all the fine hairs on my eyebrows and the rest of my face where he didn't shave.  OH. MY. GOSH. Yes it stung like dozens of fire ants were biting my face, and yes, it was very unusual.  At that point, I figured the surprises were over, but I was wrong.  Oh, how wrong I was...

There's actually a youtube video that shows exactly what I'd been through to this point:

The "Face Floss" done, he got some hot wax (I didn't realize it at the time), and put it on little sticks, rolled it into a ball, had me smell it, and then grabbed my face and stuck the hot wax into my nostrils.  Surprise!  I did not like where this was headed, but there was something to make me feel better: a Frenchman had come in for a shave, and by this point he had been straight-shaved, face-flossed (with lots of aye yay YAY!), and he had the wax on and in his ears... at least someone else was as confused as I.  And the barber had put away the wax, so my ears at least were safe.  ~Whew.~ I thought, a little TOO optimistically...

The haircut was pretty standard, at least in the mechanics, with clippers and scissors and (for the first time) no pain or fear.  Well I guess one fear, in that the only direction the guy had to go on was when I had bellowed "make me a Turk!" that might not turn out so well.  And he trimmed my eyebrows shorter than they've ever been.  But the guy was skilled, my hair grows fast, and we figured Melanie could make up the difference if it came out really awful.  So no worries, right?  Oh wait, I still had wax in my nostrils.

The haircut being done, it was time to turn his attention back to my Turkish facial.  He grabbed one stick, and with a quick, twirl, pulled out all my nosehairs.  AHHhhHHHH!!!!  If you've ever plucked one nosehair, and you get that eye-watering sting, imagine all of them at once... fantastic.  Left nose complete and eyes watering, and before I could regain my senses and bolt for the door, my Turkish captor repeated the action.  At this point I had passed the pain threshold, so it came out like a really painful, tear-inducing charm!

 Then it was time for the aftershave.  He put some in his palm and held it up to my sensitive, hairless nose, indicating that I was to sniff in.  I did...and promptly passed out.  No, I held on, but when he began to aggressively rub/massage my face with the aftershave, I wished I had.  But it closed up the pores, and though it stung, felt good for me.  Far from the worst thing...about a 6 on the scale of things I experienced that night.

At this point I'd been in the chair well over an hour, and we were flying out to Bangkok in four hours, and I was beginning to wonder if I was going to make it, in either sense of the phrase, as this guy had no shortage of ideas on how to remove hair.  At this point, I'd been shaved, face-flossed, waxed, rubbed, and, not to be forgotten, actually had received a haircut.  There was literally not a single hair on above my collar that had not been scrutinized, cut, flossed, or weighed, measured, and found wanting.  I had to be close to finished, right? 

The barber of Istanbul had one more trick, one last hurrah, THE coup-de-gras to end all coup-de-gras.  This genius of hair, this rioter of roots, this master of mangle came up with his most astonishing idea to do to my head yet, and idea whose appearance made me make this face:

Hold on... what?!

The idea, my friends?  After exhausting orthodox methods, it was time to get radical:  Fire

This doesn't look good...  :(

He took a large q-tip, dipped it in a jelly, and then LIT IT!  After quickly tapping it on his hand a few times, waved it, wizard-style, around my ears.  Predictably, wherever the flame went, tiny hairs disappeared.  The burning wasn't so bad, he was moving it quickly enough but man I could sure feel it, and it was still fire.  On. My. Face.  This is a real picture in process:

How you feeling?  I'm feeling hot hot hot...

He did this not just to my ears, but over my entire face, while I sat stone still.  Pretty fun stuff! 

Overall, it was one of the most interesting, albeit painful experiences on this trip.  I'm glad that I went through it, but I can honestly say that I never want to experience anything like this ever again.  But fun (looking back) to do once, and now my hair is at least shorter and/or non-existent.

For an update, we made it to Bangkok that night, and spent four days being totally, completely overwhelmed and exhausted.  So on the advice of some friends from church, we have fled to the southern coast.  We soon hope to post ridiculously beautiful pictures, as we've been waiting for the world-famous beaches of Thailand for a long time.  Until then, I'll be avoiding floss, knifes, Turks, and most definitely fire.  Thanks for reading!