Haircut

I have found a new love.

At the PAXI barbershop across street is my new best friend, Unang. The man is like Edward Scissorhands. He may actually be the Chuck Norris of barbers- just glaring at my head until the hairs couldn't resist and simply break off at the appropriate length. In fact, if it wasn't for the hair hitting the floor around me I wouldn't even know he was touching my head.

He stares at the mirror and measures the length of my hair to the proportion of my ears as if DaVinci was going to critique him. I hope he noticed that my eyes are crooked and my nose is bent.

An errant hair was caught on my brow, gentle Unang whisked it away with nary a flick of his hand.

Then comes the shoulder massage. Unang performed some sort of Voodoo magic and pulled demons from my spine with his firm hands. By the time he finished my hands were tingling (and my pants may have been wet).

The first I went to him I opted for my first straight shave, ever. I came out of it with the skin of a newborn child. I think the hair was so afraid of Unang that it stayed in my face for three days.

So I am developing some new tourism ideas for Indonesia. Men, grow your hair long and visit Unang for a shave and a haircut, play some golf with 19 year-old girls carrying your clubs, and drink your face off for about $12. Women, getting touched by Unang may make you want to leave your husbands. I suggest you be careful. The power and grace in the mans hands could shake your foundations and his 'Blue Steel' gaze will make you melt to a puddle. It is a Pandora's box of manliness.