I'd just settle in Iran and was looking for a Thursday afternoon a hairdresser at the top of Valendjak, north of Tehran. I asked a very charming miss wearing black I had to cross at the entrance to a shopping mall to tell me or was the nearest barber. After a moment of surprise to encounter center island a stranger, in addition to looking for a hairdresser, she gathered center island her best English to say: "cut your head? You want to cut your head? Go upstairs, 2 nd floor. ". We were in 2005, at the time or within a few miles away, in Iraq, wild décervelés silhouetted of the Western head for a political action. I took her to a small error formulation vocabulary: hair, head - I did not know until much later that it was only translated into English literally his Farsi. I found quite easily hairdresser center island "cutter head" in question. It was not called "Al Qaeda barber", customers seemed quiet, I saw no head on the ground, I came short in confidence and was setting center island me on a vacant center island seat to wait my turn. It looked like at any point in a hairdressing salon in Paris with posters of beautiful smiling mouths well-coiffed, a multitude center island of samples of shampoo and other personal care products, magazines and newspapers available to customers. The only major difference that I noticed was the complete lack of women (Iranian hairdressing salons are not mixed). center island Four men were waiting patiently for their turn watching a series that went on a TV hanging in the corner of the room. Even the hairdresser sometimes stopped working to take a look at the screen. I was trying to melt into the atmosphere in the lounge watching the series myself that I did not understand anything. When the barber spoke to me and realized that I did not speak Farsi but only English, the focus is translata abruptly from the screen to my little person. He asked me to come and live in the place of the customer center island who had just finished cutting. I refused twice with my best Farsi: "na na" by inviting other customers waiting their turn to respect center island the order of arrival. Those they refused twice in large hand movements. So I agreed to take turns (I did not know until much later that their refusal were a form of politeness in Iran which would have required that I refuse 3 times ...). The barber center island turned off the TV and put a tape of Bob Dylan, to feel confident and welcoming as it should be I was abroad.
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