Ferrara / Italy

The first and last time I get my haircut in Italy

…well that was an experience.

To be honest I have been trying for ages to get an earring out of my ear – I couldn’t quite un-click it – but it wasn’t a huge nuisance, I was just planning one of my nearest and dearest to help me out when I remembered. Turns out all I needed to do was go to a crazy Italian hairdresser and she’d rip it right out for me.

“Oops sorry dear, didn’t see that there.”

“Oops, sorry dear, you’re bleeding, let me get you some cotton wool”

Thankfully it was the earring that ripped when she tugged her comb right through it, and not my ear, but in any case, my hairdresser at home doesn’t tend to draw blood.

Apart from that little (huge) mishap, the rest went kind of okay. Nine months in Italy and I still resorted to my typically British ways – “don’t worry, don’t worry, it’s fine really, it doesn’t hurt at all” – said through gritted teeth and desperately willing my eyes to please STOP WELLING UP.

We’d gone in only wanting a cut but they insisted on washing it too, promising it would only be an extra 3 euros. We didn’t really have much choice in the matter.

As my hairdresser was drying my hair through with the brush, her colleague came up to her and said “Oh you know they’re only paying 25 don’t you? Not 42?” Umm excuse me, you do know I can understand you right? – joking, I didn’t say anything.

Anyway, upon realising we weren’t paying 42 euros, she sighed, ditched the hairbrush and started blow drying with her hand, meaning they were expecting us to pay an extra 20 EUROS FOR A HAIRBRUSH? No thank you.

So we paid and left, with comments like “Well that was an experience” and “Never doing that again” and “Well at least we tried it”…”Could’ve been worse”

Bucket list item though, check. Here are the results… not too bad considering when she asked how much I wanted cut, I stupidly replied “un bel po'” – (translation: “a fair bit” – I have never been so vague with a hairdresser in my entire life)


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