How do you like Kiwi Kebab?!

The first real city with a culture that isn’t centered on tourism (but still has plenty aimed at us foreign travellers) also delivered our first sea views since Ephesus(we were missing the water!). A stunning cliff top walk along the Mediterranean was our first experience of Turkey’s Southern coast, and after 3 days here Antalya gained it’s place as Turkey’s best city (in the Mind of Mark, at least). Not the chaotic metropolis of Istanbul, Antalya has a real community, café-culture, and somewhat Wellingtonian feel to it. The size of the city provides enough interest and diversity to keep people entertained (and employed), while the climate on the Med has a few plusses over that of Wellington. So who would guess that my lasting memory of this place would be getting a haircut?…..

How to get a haircut, Turk-Style…

1. Leave the tourist district of the old-town, find the main street of the city, and walk one street back - you’ll know that you’re in the right place when food prices, hygiene standards, and the use of English all fall by roughly half.
2. Choose your salon. We (admittedly, I needed a bit of encouragement from Emma) went for an empty place with a male hairdresser with a well trimmed moustache, tidy but semi fashionable hair and clothes - I wasn’t wanting to kick-start a male modelling career, just get a tidy-up that wouldn’t be dated back to the 80s.
3. Introduce yourself over a cup of tea, communicate your intention to get a trim, and try to relax in the hope that your man knows what he’s doing with those scissors.
4. First comes the shampoo and conditioner, with massage. Massage that spreads to the neck. Then the shoulders. Then you are pushed forward onto the counter and it becomes a back massage too. Stopping just above the beltline, the hairdresser turned masseur moves to the arms to continue this surprise relaxation, all the way down to the hands, cracking the knuckles. But wait - there’s more! Add a couple of extreme arm stretches that I’ve only ever seen done by a Russian swimming coach, before he grabs the head in both hands, lolls it around before whipping it left, then right, cracking joints both times. Now that you feel like a very happy and relaxed rag doll, the trim begins.
5. One doesn’t realise just how technical one’s haircut is until one has to explain what one wants - through charades. After a good 5-10 minutes of hand signals and sample photo flicking and pointing, the hairdresser should know what to do, and have the right tools for the job laid out in front of you. Cutting commences.
6. Cutting is complete. Or so you think. Then out come the smallest pair of scissors you have ever seen. I thought that I’d be at least 35 before I needed a nose hair trim, but this guy somehow found some hair up there, and he trimmed it. Same-same for the ears.
7. Ahh, all done. Looking so fresh and so clean. Then comes out a small jar of liquid and a large cotton bud, along with the question, “Do you like Turkish Kebabs?”. Being both polite and truthful, I answer, “Yes, I love them!”. He dips the cotton in the liquid, pulls out a lighter to ignite what I realise is something like ethanol, and wraps my head in his spare arm, crying, “How do you like Kiwi Kebab?!”. Taken completely by surprise, I am no challenge for him as he controls my head and swipes at my face, neck and ears with the flaming stick. I realise that he’s burning off the “peach fuzz”, or very faint hair that most people have on their cheeks and ears if you look very closely. When done, he laughs, and when I’m done checking that my eyebrows still exist, I join in. Emma was laughing the whole time.
8. A lemon scented ethanol sanitizer/aftershave is patted all over the face, and a 5 minute face and sinus massage gets rid of any soot left from the burninating.
9. Hairdryer and soft brush are used to remove clippings, then a second rinse/shampoo completes the job.
10. You realise that this is the best cut you’ve had in years, the best massage in years, and that you look the best you have since the last time you got dressed up for something so important that your Mum felt the need to straighten your tie. Share another cup of tea with the man who has proven himself a true master of his art, pay him the price of a student rate cut in NZ, shake his hand, and walk away feeling on top of the world.

Photo: The Master protects the eyes as he turns my face into a "Kiwi Kebab"