Day 2 in Kathmandu and I'm a right mess. Time for a visit to “Best Barber”. A welcome escape from the mayhem messing with my jet-lagged mind. Horrific traffic assaults the senses, incessant and unnecessary horn blowing, vehicles move senselessly yet slowly in all directions. When I later join the madness on my bike I realise that it somehow work, perversely it keeps moving.
I wandered dirty, messy and bearded through the medieval streets of the old town marvelling at the hutch like shops and workshops where men crafted with basic tools from iron, wood and cloth. Just after the “Opera Eye Wear” shop and the pathologists you can find “Best Barber”. I dive in for a new look.
A pastel green open room, Best Barber Shop is adorned with tinsel and stickers of Hindu deities. Bhangra music blasts. My Best Barber is plump and wears a fine moustache and tries to give me one too, he expertly shaves me but disturbed by a text message he loses concentration and carelessly slashes my face. To make up for it he douses me several times in various creams and oils, massages my head with tiger balm and slaps my forehead with rough, calloused hands. Taking up the offer of a back massage best barber slumps my face into a mucky sink and gets stuck in kneeding my spine and hitting me haphazardly.
All finished off (to Yann's horror) with best barber cleaning my face roughly with a filthy towel.
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