I previously wrote a column for local newspapers in Georgia about my experiences abroad. This essay is a sample of “Thompson’s Travels.”

Thank Your Barber

A few days before moving to Thailand, I went to see my barber. 

“Thailand, huh?” he said as I sat down in the chair. “That’s great. The Thais are some of the best barbers in the world.” 

I wasn’t aware that my small-town barber was so tuned in to the global trends of his profession, and I had never before heard Thailand associated with top-notch haircuts before spicy food and pristine beaches. But I filed this information away as something to be investigated after my arrival. 

A few weeks after my flight, I had largely settled into my new surroundings. I was living in a suburb of Bangkok and enjoying the aforementioned spicy food. Unfortunately, the pristine beaches were far away in another part of the country. As the days passed, a progressively shaggier version of me appeared in the mirror. It was time to seek out some empirical evidence to test my barber’s claim. 

There was a small hair salon close to my apartment. It looked modern and well-outfitted with various trimming tools. The Thai barber made a polite and confident first impression. So far, so good. 

The obvious challenge of any cross-cultural hair styling experience is the language barrier. My Thai was just as deficient as his English, so I couldn’t very easily explain that I just wanted him to trim the sides and take a little off the top. However, I had come prepared. On my phone, I pulled up a recent picture of me where my hair was in a similar style but slightly shorter. I pointed to the picture. I pointed to my head. He nodded. Just to be sure, I opened the “Google Translate” app on my phone and typed, “Please make me look like this picture.” He read the message and nodded again.

Pleased at the seeming ease with which I had been able to communicate my wishes, I took off my glasses and sat in the chair. Removing my glasses during a haircut is necessary to allow unencumbered access to my sideburns and around the ears, but it is also an exercise in trust. Being quite nearsighted, the results of a barber’s labors are indiscernible to me until the deed is done and I can put on my glasses again. I wasn’t worried, however. This guy seemed to know what he was doing. 

Twenty minutes later when I rose from the chair and replaced my eyewear, I discovered that my non-verbal instructions had been misinterpreted. I thought I had been saying, “Please make me look like this picture.” He, however, had apparently heard, “Please make me look like the lead guitarist of a teenage boy band.” My hair, which had previously been combed conservatively to one side, was now slicked straight back, towering in a static wave over my forehead. I smiled, paid, left the shop, and quickly went in search of a comb to repair the damage as much as I could.

This experience does not disprove the hypothesis that Thailand has the world’s best barbers. In fact, it might support that idea. Friends have looked at a picture of me with that haircut and said that I should have stuck with it. Indeed, the barber probably thought he was doing me a favor. He doubtless understood what I wanted, but, like God, decided to give me instead what I really needed. Perhaps that was a chance to up my fashion game.

The problem, though, is that while I might look more fashionable as a boy band guitarist, I am not a boy band guitarist. My barber back home gets that, and that’s why he trims the sides and takes a little off the top without adding any unsolicited creativity. Thailand may have the best barbers in the world, but Sylvania has one that understands me, and there’s something to be said for that. If yours understands you, say thanks next time you visit.

James Thompson has lived in Georgia, Germany, and Thailand. After growing up in Sylvania, his first big move was to Athens to attend UGA. Later, a yearlong exchange program took him to the German city of Freiburg. He is currently a campus minister at a university near Bangkok. Find him online at jamescthompson.net.