Yesterday I ventured into one of my favorite and most terrifying places in Lhasa...the hair salon. It never fails that if I go alone, disaster may ensue. If I take a translator, good things are on the horizon. Yesterday I took one of my favorite students, Kison. She doesn't have the best writing skills, but her oral translations are spot on. We ventured out on the 111 (best bus in town, mainly because it is the only bus that stops on my street) and two stops later were at my regular place asking for #2. Yes, #2 cuts my hair. Everyone at the salon is assigned a number, perhaps by skill or tenure, I'm not sure. I was asked if I wanted #1, but no, I like #2. He's cut my hair several times with great results (minus one major mis-communication). He always remembers me, he knows my hair is naturally curly, and he knows what to do. With some savvy translation help, #2 understood what I was looking for and sent me back to the hair washing girl.

One of the best experiences in China is getting your hair washed. For years I have enjoyed the 15-20 minute shampoo-massage-rinse-shampoo-massage-shampoo-massage-rinse-massage-conditioner-massage-rinse-massage-rinse pattern that is a Chinese hair washing. It leaves your head relaxed and hair super soft. However, a great realization came upon me yesterday. Most folks here don't wash their hair all that often, especially in the winter. Yet I had just washed my hair that morning. Perhaps the thoroughness of the wash is because this gal assumes I haven't washed my hair in ages and I need a good thorough scrubbing. Maybe it's not a luxury treatment, but out of necessity for some of the ridiculously dirty hair that walks in.

On to the haircut. Thanks to Kison's mad translation skills I was able to effectively get just a trim. I was also able to get a lecture from #2 once he figured out how good Kison was. In no subtle terms he told me that I should not use a straightening iron on my hair every day, I should try to blow dry more "feathers" onto the left side of my head because this is attractive, I should leave my hair curly because many Chinese women like perms and that he gets confused when he doesn't know why I laugh sometimes during a haircut. (I'm laughing because I have know idea what he is doing or saying and I feel completely powerless!)

So, yesterday was a good haircut, Kison and I got to chat about girly things, a sweet young Tibetan girl scrubbed the heck out of my scalp and #2 got to say all the things he'd really been wanting to share. I'd say $4.51 well spent.

Ah, look! The bangs of my youth!

It seems like a poignant commentary on my life. Bumped around from place to place, borrowed addresses, nothing permanent, life in suitcases, settling in just to find yourself packing, planning and moving again before you know it.  I'm not alone in this; it isn't an original life. I have plenty of friends out there doing just the same thing and all of us longing for a time when it ends. I don't mean a time here on this earth when we all settle down into a retirement facility...for that is not the end either. We look forward to the time when we are in our heavenly home and there are no more boxes, shipping labels or luggage weight limits. But until that time we live knowing that our hearts look homeward with immense joy while our earthly bodies continue to make small footprints on a world of impermanence as we sort the tattered Rubbermaid bins that make a bizarre summary of our earthly lives.
Seems like a bit of lengthy and drawn out way to simply say, my blog has moved again. Argh. Perhaps my mysteriously disappeared account at the previous site is an indicator from above that I need to stop trying to have a blog. And yet here I am again overwhelmed by background and layout choices, hoping to produce an intangible yet worthwhile waste of your five minutes.