On our last day in Alcañiz we decided to walk into town for the essentials... Diet Pepsi and a haircut. It had been several weeks since Mario cut my hair in Taormina, and I was slowly losing control of it. Diet Pepsi is much more available in Spain than it was in Sicily, where it took both bravado and luck to find it. We knew it would be available in the market in the center of town, so the more pressing quest was to find a barber shop. We asked at the Parador for a suggestion and they gave us the general location of two "stylists". I told Chris I wanted an old Spanish dude to cut my hair... a guy with a 100-year-old chair and a leather strap to hone his razor... not some young señorita fresh out of stylist school.
We walked past one "Unisex" place that seemed closed, and then decided it was time to formulate a plan... and the plan was to ask a man on the street for help. Not just any man... we had requirements... his hair had to look like it was not cut by his mother, and he had to look like he could afford a haircut. We zeroed in on one gentleman, we stopped him, and in my best bad Spanish, I asked...
buenas dias, no hablamos espanol, donde esta barbero?", while tugging on a few wild strands of my rapidly graying and thinning hair.
He smiled and replied in Spanish, something to the effect that he was a barber and was on his way to his shop, and to follow him. We followed him to the "Unisex" place that now was open (it opened at noon), and it turns out he wasn't a barber after all, but was going there for a haircut! The shop was run by two young women... our leader obviously knew them, and announced that he had brought along another "client" for them. He sat in one chair and I climbed into the other. Chris found a seat in the small waiting area and picked up a magazine. As my "stylist" began wetting and combing my hair, Chris brought over the magazine opened to a picture of Richard Gere, and asked the stylist to make me look like that!
The girl laughed and said OK! Fifteen minutes later she was done, and what a fine haircut she gave me. I don't know if the result had me looking like Richard Gere, but I'll be ready if a stand-in is needed for
Pretty Woman.
Our leader 's haircut was finished about the same time, we thanked him for his help, paid the twelve euros, and were on our way. We decided to walk around Alcañiz a little more, just for the exercise, before going to the market for you-know-what. As we turned a corner, who did we see...? but our fearless leader! This time
he stopped
us, he reached into his wallet, and pulled out his card. Turns out he owns a bar-restaurant in town and asked us to stop by if we could. No, you really can't make this stuff up. Unfortunately, we weren't able to stop by his place, but still, what a happy coincidence. We purchased what seemed like several gallons of Diet Pepsi as I was lugging it up the steep hill to the Parador (why didn't we drive..?), and concluded our outing with yet another story to tell.
Joe, and his "I need a DP wife"...
