Decisions: Haircut Horrors
Unless you are follicularly-challenged, haircuts are a fact of life. How do we manage haircuts while traveling abroad?
FEATURED ON HOMEPAGETRAVEL
5/21/20266 min read
Let’s talk about haircuts. Are you a patron of the local Super-cuts where your quick snip costs less than $25? Or do you carefully schedule your styling appointments with the same wonderful person who has cared for your hair across the decades at $75+ per visit?
Unless you are follicularly-challenged, haircuts are a fact of life. People with long hair might live 12-20 weeks between haircuts, while people with short styles live 4-8 weeks between haircuts. The growth of hair never takes a vacation, so getting a haircut during long-term travel is a must.
Greg is a Marine. His high-fade style needs a trim every 4-5 weeks. He can walk into most barbers and pantomime a flat top. No language, no pictures, no description. Most barbers can perform this cut easily. Greg is almost never disappointed. While in the states he is usually happy with the economy salons. While traveling, he likes to find the old guy who runs a one-chair shop. They may use scissors or even razors, but rarely clippers. Greg tips them well and walks out with a smile.
Women. Women are not nearly as lucky! Visit any salon that caters to feminine clients, and it will immediately have a vibe. Clients who do not understand the glitz and glam associated with high end salons often feel intimidated and judged (re: the former haircut; which clothes, shoes, or jewelry we are wearing on this day; do our eyebrows or lashes need touched up; are our fingernails in order; are we tipping enough; etc.). Yet, if we visit the economical salons, we often have the newest stylists who are still trying to hone their skills. While great on the wallet, these clients must accept whatever results they get. Now add up all the accumulated stress and judgement, then layer it with a dose of “foreigner” and you have a horrible haircut cocktail. While traveling in 2025, I had several haircut horrors.
#1 Lucca, Italy: Walking from our apartment to the grocery store every day, I passed at least 3 salons every time. I looked at each salon and carefully considered which one to visit for my monthly haircut. One day, I finally chose the largest. It had about 12 chairs with male and female stylists. There were prices on the front window and no appointment seemed needed. As I entered, I used broken Italian (memorized from google translator) to tell the receptionist I wanted a haircut. I had practiced those words repeatedly in the days prior. I had typed my haircut instructions on my phone and translated them into Italian. I was ready with Google-Translate if more instruction was needed. The female stylist sat me in a chair and I showed her my short description of the haircut. Confidently, I opened my phone to show additional photos and…fail. Again…fail. Again…fail! She didn’t speak English. Google Translate wouldn’t load. I couldn’t clarify. My cellular data was not loading. The salon did not have Wi-Fi. I had ZERO language to explain my need of the day!
The heat rose quickly as I tried to find words, ANY Italian words. I pointed to my phone repeatedly and made the sign language sign for “broken”. I was ready to cry when she took me to a poster with several pictures of haircuts. I tried pointing and pantomiming. We walked back to the chair. She picked up the scissors and timidly snipped a bit here, a bit there. More pantomimes from both of us. Little snip, little snip. Now SHE looked like she wanted to cry. Holding up her hand, she walked away and returned a moment later with a male stylist. He read my word document with the paragraph description. He too frowned but went to work. He snipped and edged, edged and snipped. Before long, he motioned that he was finished. My hair was, indeed, shorter, but looked rather masculine. I paid in Euro, left the shop, and walked back to the apartment with frustrated and embarrassed tears in my eyes. Afterward, I realized the update on my first e-Sim card in this country had not been processed correctly. That’s why I did not have cellular data to make Google Translate work and I had failed to download the language for use off-line.
#2 Parma, Italy: A new city! A new chance to re-do the haircut fiasco of Lucca. I can do this better, I know I can! I searched salons online and read reviews. I practiced my Italian request for a haircut. I had functional cell services with my e-Sim. I had my typed and translated description, and I favorited the old pictures of my haircut before traveling. I was ready. Entering the quiet salon around noon, there were two people hanging out behind the counter. I made my request for a haircut. They looked at each other and through broken English, asked me if I could return at 15:00 (3:00 pm). With a vigorous nod of acceptance, I walked out proudly knowing I completed a difficult language transaction. When I returned at the designated time, there were more staff. A young fellow welcomed me with decent English and introduced me to the older male stylist who only spoke Italian. Using the younger man as my translator, I explained my need of the day. The stylist went to work. Using mostly scissors, he snipped my short cut shorter. Toward the end of the haircut the translator brought a product over, showed it to me, asked me if I wanted it, and handed it to the stylist for application. When the haircut was finished, I went to the counter to pay. My stylist, translator and one other woman were standing behind the counter. They spoke a bit of Italian. “Looks” passed between all three of them then the young fellow looked incredulously at the older stylist, and he sheepishly told me the price would be €60.00 ($70.00 USD). Greg just paid €21.00 ($25.00) for his cut, so I questioned the kid about the price. He said it was because they put the cream in my hair. I had not clarified the price of a haircut anywhere in my previous communication. He had NOT mentioned the price when he showed me the product or I would have refused. Now, it was my turn to be sheepish as I paid and slinked out of the shop. Lesson learned. Clearly ask questions BEFORE the haircut.
#3 Nice, France: Walking the town of Nice, I found the salon I wanted to use. So, I walked into the salon and asked for a haircut. They were booked up and the only way to make an appointment was through their app. Grr. Now what? So, I walked down the street that had three other salons and went into the one that had the posted price of a haircut at €35. The two ladies seemed nice. One looked like she did nails and the other cut hair. They had a little bit of English and my technology was working. Yes, I tend to learn the hard way sometimes. After explaining my need, she went to work with a snip-snip here and a snip-snip there. Part way through, she dropped the scissors and attempted to catch them before they hit my lap. Unfortunately, she sliced open her finger. She washed her hands, wrapped the finger with the salon neck-wrap paper and tape, then cut my hair again, just more slowly. When it came time to pay, I went over to my purse, and she started looking around for something. As she picked up her phone, she said in English, “I call manager for price.” My antennae went on high alert as I looked at the door and then down at the small counter. Right under my elbow on the counter was a stack of flyers with the price of a haircut, so I stated and pointed “€35.00”. Awkwardly she put down the phone and accepted my payment and I left. The haircut was shorter, but crooked in several locations. Was that because of the bandage or something else? Even today I wonder, was this business a “front” for something else? Was she really a stylist or just someone who faked it well?
#4 Pogradec, Albania: Sometimes, it’s who you know! While in Albania we met some American expats who had lived in the town about a year. So, I asked April, where do you get your haircut? She tried to tell me the location, but Albania does not have street addresses only street names. I asked if she would show me one day.
Off we went to April’s stylist who only speaks shqip (the Albanian language), so I had my translator and photos ready. I was seated in the chair showing her my pictures and she began texting on her phone. Over the next few minutes, she busied herself getting items ready but also looked out the door repeatedly. It was around lunchtime, so I supposed a delivery was on its way. Then it came. A small box with hair clippers inside! The lady stylists in Albania do not use clippers, hence she texted another shop to borrow them! This stylist was careful and sweet. It was the best haircut I had had in Europe. ANNNNDDDD…the best part was the price…500LEK = $5.00 USD!! You heard me, $5.00 for the best haircut in a year! I left her a $5.00 tip too!
Look, when you live in a foreign country or travel to many countries, haircuts are a necessity. There are going to be problems and there are going to be solutions. It’s all part of the travel experience. I’ve learned many lessons throughout this journey, but the number one lesson is to keep trying. Besides, hair grows back.
