Bless my knees and ear-hairs, Janım!

In Turkey - Türkiye'de Tüm diğer müzik fırsatları için tıklayın !

I have spent so much enjoyable time in Türkiye that I thought that nothing I would run into would be much of a surprise. And once again I was wrong.

I've had a favorite barber in Ankara since my first trip to that city, in 1970. In preparation for every visit I've made since then, I've postponed having my hair cut so that I could visit him, drink a lot of çay, and get a great haircut. My plan for this trip (with my wife Jan) was no different.

So upon our arrival in Ankara, after settling into our hotel, I headed directly for my former barber's shop. Maalesef, he'd retired, and I wasn't able to find him. Since haircuts are not my prime reason for visiting Türkiye, I shrugged it off and kept on with the other things we had planned to do.

A few days later, having hit a short lull in our activities, I looked across the street from our hotel and saw a barber shop that wasn't too busy. So I decided to get a trim. Jan came along -- since she's interested in observing virtually everything when we travel.

A short while later I was in the barber's chair, tea glass in hand, with Mehmet, my attending berber, at the ready. We established how I wanted to end up looking... and, with scissors in hand, he set about performing his magic.

When it came to final touches, my former barber used to dip a Q-tip in alcohol, light it, and singe the hair in and around my ears. The first time it happened I was very surprised, but I got used to the flame (and the aroma) and sort of looked forward to the treatment. Mehmet, however, was not of that school. He also wasn't of the American school that uses a trimmer to shorten all that excess hair. No way!

His first course of treatment was with tweezers, making me very glad that I don't have to undergo the eyebrow treatment that a lot of folks think is necessary to be well groomed. After what seemed to be a very long procedure, he finally stopped. I figured he was finished...

But no. I was sipping some of my tea when I noticed him stirring something greenish in a small copper pot. My first impression was that it was battery acid, from the color. Wrong again. It was wax.

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He slathered this wax over both ears, making sure that it got into all the creases. I couldn't quite get a good look at my wife in the mirror, but a brief glance showed that she was in rapt attention. I sat there while the wax firmed up (since I didn't have a respectable alternative), all the while gripping the armrests in the same fashion as I do when I am in a dentist's chair.

In a couple of minutes Mehmet pried one small corner loose and pulled. Part of it came away, so he went back for the rest. And then he went for the other ear.

Having neither yelped nor bolted from the chair (my wife said that I looked quite stoic through the procedure), I hoped that I was now finally fit to rejoin society. But Mehmet saw something (or things) that made him come back for a second try. This time his wax treatment wasn't quite as painful, since there wasn't as much hair that needed removal. But it still made me think of those folks who have their legs (and other body parts) waxed routinely.

Call me a chicken (or tavuk in Turkish), a coward, or simply a male, I don't believe that I'll go through that again -- especially since, at my age, my ears sometimes seem to grow hair a lot faster than my head!

But, to be honest, I think I am hearing a bit better than I did, and it may be a long time before any barber will have to trim my ears again.
Bruce [and Jan] Brooks (June '05)