Vancouver

I was walking home from yoga this afternoon and started thinking about my time here in Vancouver and what to make of it. Yes, all in all, it s been good. It hasn't been great though it s been good. Then I thought about it in terms of hair. For those interested, try to follow. Im not being circuitous or cryptic, charges that have been lobbed against me with some degree of fairness by various friends and acquaintances, but this time, I really dont have a full formed analogy. I just feel there's something here. Okay. So my hair.

Three weeks ago, a little more than three weeks ago, shortly after I got to Vancouver, I found a Japanese hair salon on the foot of Hornby. I knew it was the place I could get my hair cut right especially when the sign out front said "We come from Japan." One of the toughest things bout traveling was getting a good cut for my hair (though this came second to the toll traveling and the changes in sleeping patterns, diet and weather caused on my skin). Cut it a inch too close and it ll stick up like I was being electrocuted. Dont cut enough off and it doesnt look like Ive had anything done. Ive had a million bad haircuts since I left New Haven.

For the past four years, Ive gotten my hair cut at a Japanese salon in the West Village. Yoshie, my stylist, knows how to cut my hair. I always like her cuts. Without getting too essentialist, Japanese people know how to cut Asian hair. They just do. Theyre the best. So I make an appointment at Air and I tell Hiromi, the stylist, what I want. Something very basic. Short on the side, short on the top, but not too short. This part I repeat. Not too short or else it ll stick up. She nods and repeats what Ive said. We re on the same page, I think. But we re not.

A little over an hour later with most of my hair on the floor, she s given me an elaborate buzz cut. My hair s pretty much standing up and she s shaped it to empasize certain points and spikes. To her credit, and because this was a salon and not a barbershop, she never used clippers. It was all artfully and painstakingly done by a pair of scissors. Immediately after and days and weeks after, recalling the cut to friends, I ve always maintained that Im not angry at Hiromi. In fact, Im not. Usually, actually always, if Im unhappy with something, I ll definitely bring it up whether Im at a restaurant or a department store. But I didnt feel the need to do so with Hiromi. To a degree, I get it, I get what she was doing. She was giving me a cut like you see on those Japanese ESL students with their skater shoes and Louis Vuitton backpacks and ENYCE hoodies. But those kids have edge. I dont. Im pretty boring.

Immediately after the cut, I bought a baseball cap or, rather, one of those terrible Fidel Castro looking caps that every other straight guy seem to think signifies that theyre fashionable. To me, it signified a desparate need to hide my hair. I dislike my hair very much. It's real thinned out, it sticks up in some parts. The hair on the side of my head is also sticking out at a rate faster than the top of my head so it just looks uneven. One friend said she liked it and that I needed to own it. Another said it s a bit of a faux hawk and I needed to use the right type of putty. For the past three weeks, Ive been wearing hoodies. Fortunately, it's been a very cool May and the weather s allowed for such a fashion choice. A few days ago, I noticed that my hair felt different. There was a texture and a substantiveness to it that was also very light. It felt nice and I think it ll look nice once it grows a bit more. In other words, Hiromi did a good job. I may not have liked it immediately and I may have had to walk around in a hoodie for three weeks looking like the Unabomber (I almost always always have one of my biiiiiig Marc Jacobs sunglasses on) but I liked what happened after, how the hair is growing out.

I somehow feel this is best representative of my time in Vancouver.

Maybe Im just being hopeful. I dont know. Im not quite done yet and this week is very busy but this is my goodbye to Vancouver.

Thanks.