Japan's Hidden Torture Cells

So it's been a while since I last posted.... Well try over a month. It's become a lot colder since last time I posted. The nice weather still appears here and there but it's usually followed by a night freezing cold and we've started to notice how quickly it turns to dark now.

With the cold weather most people around Kitakami are sporting a cold or chest infections of sorts, including myself. Since the medication I bought from the chemist doesn't seem to be doing anything and I've been coughing for three weeks straight now I thought I would head for one of the English speaking doctors today, plus seeing my right ankle is the strapped up in bandages, double the regular size and sends a sharp pain up my leg every time I step on it, I think it's a good idea I get it examined. What can I say? A big night out in city - Causalities can be expected in the war against boredom. I'll be sure to let every one know how I go, until then just call me 'Mr. Limpy'

Anyway, after six months of being in Japan my hair had grown fairly long. Much to my mum's annoyance I wanted to keep growing it for a bit longer but that was until last week when I had a herd of wild five year old girls realize: "Hey, our teachers hair is long - let's pull it, and then plat it with elastic bands!"

Needless to say an hour of this was more then enough time to reconsider my decision, and the next day I found a hair dresser and had it cut. Going to the hair dresser's in my opinion can end in one of two ways. First, you come out liking your hair cut, or second you come out bitching and moaning about what your hair now looks like with your sister in hot pursuit reminding you how much you look like a pineapple.

While I was pleased with my hair cut, this was the first time I came out of a hair dresser's thinking "What the hell just happened?!" It was the strangest experience I've ever had a hair dressers and so I thought I should give you a low down of the two hours I spent in that chair.

Things began normal, after inquiring about the price and being seated I showed the lady the picture of how I wanted my hair cut and she began to prepare. Placed paper around my neck and then the cover over my shoulders. I watched her prepare the basin to wash my hair, and was asked to move towards it. In most cases where this has happened I would be asked to place the back of my neck in a little cradle and have my hair washed while secretly serving down the hair dresser's top - What can I say, my old hair dresser's was full of young girls. Not this time. Face first into the basin, with a hot jet of water searing away any dirt and grime. Hot soap and water dripping over my face, going into my ears, eyes, nose and mouth.

So five minutes later a towel is wrapped around my face and dried. Then I feel her press in on my eyes, drying them. Then over my mouth, drying that. Then one each side, a single fingers pressing into my ears, cleaning inside them. Finally she tried my hair.

The hair cut was fairly standard, but no clippers. All scissor work, it took ages, but these people are perfectionists. After the cut, she had put in what ever the hell the smelly stuff was to spike my hair. She stood up, walked over to her boss who then examined my hair. Not good enough yet! He then proceeded to fix up my hair where he saw fit. Once he was done, I was glad. Time to go home, lucky because I could feel a poo cooking inside.

I was wrong. Face first into the basin again. Wash, condition, clean every orifice possible and back up. A few more cuts where she decided she had missed. Blow dry. More cuts. Smelly shit. More cuts. Style. Inspection. Still not good enough! More cuts. Mess up. Then finally... Finished.

I stared to move in anticipation of finally standing after all that time when suddenly. WHACK! Too the back of my neck. I had no idea it was coming. WHACK! Another. I was under attack. The lady was punching my neck. Then the back of my head, little chops with the ridge of her hands. It took me a few dazed moments to realize that she was massage me. After twenty minutes of being punched in the neck, the head, shoulders and my back she let me know that the whole processed was finished.

So I payed my $30, or however much it is these days, and walked out the door with every one in the place yelling in Japanese "Thanks for the hard work!" And after being forced to go through water torture twice and then finally having the shit beaten out of me while strapped into a chair I was inclined to agree. It was hard work, but my hair looked damn cool.