Thursday

It's getting cooler and so I slept with the windows open last night. I slept well, except that in the morning I woke up to a cat fight. Not two women yelling at each other, two real cats . It sounded terrible. I kept wishing an old person would go outside and separate them. I don't know why I specifically wanted an old person to do it. Maybe because when I used to get up early and run I'd always see old people out stretching, or walking, or doing Tai-chi, or Qi-gong. Anyways, the cats eventually sorted it out, and I fell back asleep for a bit.

Classes were pretty normal, and afterwar I went to get a haircut. My hair had been starting to get on my nerves, and then we learned haircutting vocabulary, so I decided to set off and try my new skills. The first barbershop I found was on the second floor, and when I walked up there, just seemed to be someones apartment. There was a sign downstairs that said the place was on the second floor, but there was no sign on the second floor. There were just two apartments, and I didn't know which door to knock at. I was a little freaked out anyway, after seeing those two horror movies yesterday, then coming into this empty apartment building, trying to find a barbershop that wasn't there. After a while, I knocked at one of the doors. A man in a wife-beater and boxer shorts came to the door and told me the barbershop was across the hallway. So I knocked at the other door, but no one answered. I was happy to leave unscathed.

I found another barbershop just down the street, and it wasn't creepy at all. There was an empty chair, so I got served right away. The woman asked what I wanted and I told her that I wanted it even all around. She repeated 'all around' a few times, and I just repeated it back. I felt like she understood that I wanted all of the lengths of the hairs to be even. Then she asked how long I wanted it, and held her fingers about an inch apart as an example. I said I'd like it a little bit longer, and she moved her fingers apart a little. I felt like this meant that she understood how long I wanted it. After we'd gotten that sorted out she started cutting away.

All of the barbers I've been to in America pinch your hair between their fingers, then cut it, but she just lifted it with a comb, and then cut. It seemed a little haphazard, but I didn't want to say anything, and probably couldn't have if I'd wanted too. It soon became apparent that she seemed to be cutting haphazardly because she was cutting haphazardly.

This was where I figured out that she had disregarded all of my instructions, and was giving me the haircut she thought looked best. So I got a regular neat, everyday hair cut. Now all I need is a good suit and a nice watch, and I'll be able to start heading into the office every morning. She even shaved my neck. It is a good haircut, but I was frustrated that she completely disregarded everything I'd said. I'm sure she understood because afterward, she kept telling me how much better it looked, and how you could see my face now. It was kind of like "Aren't you glad I made the right decision for you? If I'd done what you said, you would look so much worse right now!" On the bright side, she did wash my hair. She really scrubbed it too, and the whole thing was almost worth it for the scalpal scrubbing I got. Nothing beats a good head scratching.

After the haircut I went and bought some tupperware, and a proper kitchen knife (I had been using a little pocket knife). When I got home, I took the knife out of its package and started playing with it. I didn't have anything to cut, and so I just had my hand in a loose sort of a fist, and was rolling the handle around in palm. I wasn't really paying attention, and the corner of the blade rolled into the first joint on my thumb, and cut a little gash. It occured to me that this didn't bode well for my future relationship with the knife, but it wasn't a bad cut and was fine after I slapped some triple anti-biotic ointment on it.

That night at kick boxing I met Emilio. He was from Spain (I couldn't figure out which part), and I think he might have been a gangster. He was stocky, a solid 6 inches shorter than I am, and I only outweighed him by about 10 pounds. He was bald, with ears that stuck out, and a bulbous nose. He was only in Taipei for three days, I didn't ask doing what. And he already knew how to fight. Well enough that it might have been his job. I liked him though. He worked hard, and punched and kicked harder than a lot of the other people do, but he was always very nice about it. It made me think, what if he was a gangster. He could be really nice now, but when he has to break peoples' legs', that's when he gets serious. I don't know. It was a good session though. I like the class more and more every time I go.