Travelers' Hair

"How bad do you think it will look in April?" I asked my hairstylist Joseph in December as he pulled the pieces of foil from my scalp exposing what I like to think of as my "refreshed" hair color. This treatment and haircut would be my last for four months as I couldn't imagine letting anyone in India have a go at coloring or cutting my hair. I've watched my husband and our sons come back from their sub-continental excursions with enough hideous haircuts to keep me faithful to Joe no matter how bad things got."You can always wear a hat," he suggested in his typically optimistic manner. Joe has long ago given up on getting me to employ either a hair dryer at home or the various products he uses to make the modified 'beauty queen' do's with which, no matter how I protest, I always seem to leave the salon. The reaction at home is predictably, "What happened to your hair?" After a few days it begins to look like the same old me and when it looks worse that the same old me I go back to see Joe. I'd purposely let my hair grow long enough to put up in a pony tail, assuming this would be the easiest way to keep it off the back of my neck and my face in the hot and humid weather we would be facing. Wash and wear would be my mode of dealing with the hair issue I figured as I packed up a bunch of scrunchies and barrettes.Things stared off pretty well. The hot damp air made my just washed hair organize itself into the kind of curls I had always longed for. Then the opportunity to actually wash my hair became less frequent.In fact, the reality here, friends, is that unless you are willing to hop into the river for an Indian-style bath, life here for us tourists with a hair challenge considerably more than wear than wash. I've figured out that you can identify women who've been traveling for more than, say, a week in India just by looking at their hair and face. If they are still wearing make up they are either within hours of getting off the plane, or they are bedding down at the local Taj or Oberoi.Did you know that hair that can be so adorable when well managed looks like an old Brillo pad when it's terrorized by days of unrelenting 90 degree temperature married to 90% humidity and dust? I'm only talking about western hair - not Indian hair. It is not, in my opinion, a gross generalization to say that Indian women have the most fabulous hair in the world. Long and luxurious waist length shining black waves or braids as thick as my wrist cascade down the sari-draped back of every female you see. An informal survey (courtesy of your faithful blogger) reveals that for every ten hairs growing out of my head the typical Indian woman has several thousand. A Western head of hair viewed next to an Indian head of hair doesn't have a chance.I left home with a four month supply of my favorite shampoo and hair conditioner. It's on the expensive side, I admit. David saw the charge on the MasterCard bill and wanted to know if Keihl was the name of the dentist doing my new gold crown. Armed with my hair products and the best of intentions I set off for India where I learned almost immediately that even "pretty nice" hotels as well as most "so-so" guest houses don't offer the option of a hot shower when you want it - or even when you are desperate for it. In many cities, there is an hour every morning (arbitrarily scheduled at some time between 6:30 and 8:30 - usually around the time I would love a shower) and again in the evening (which can be anywhere between 7 and 9:30 when, after a day spent in the sweltering heat, I would kill for a shower) when the power is cut off for everyone. This is because there isn't enough water above the hydroelectric dams to supply the country with electricity around the clock. Some hotels, businesses and larger homes have diesel powered generators, and many small shops and homes have small Honda gasoline powered generators, to power refrigerators and lights (and pollute the air) when the electricity system shuts down. But not to heat water.In a number of the places we've stayed the water out of the tap is warm enough to get yourself (quickly) clean(ish) when the electricity is on, but rarely warm enough to wash shampoo and conditioner out of past shoulder-length hair. Perhaps this is why Indian women bath and wash their hair in the river - maybe that's their beauty secret. My coping mechanism is try to drag a brush though my increasingly unmanageable dusty mane, corral it with a scrunchy and slap a hat on top. On the days, however, when the snarls are so recalcitrant, that I can't manage to brush them out I consider going to a local place just to get the ends trimmed. Then I remember the haircut David got in Luang Prabang. The good news is that after almost three weeks the bald spot over his left ear is hardly visible and it looks like he won't even have a scar.Update: both of us got haircuts in Hyderabad (where there was lots of hot water) in a very nice salon called 'Miracle'. It was a miracle that my stylist did exactly what I asked ("Just the ends, please"), and David's left his head and beard neatly trimmed and gave him a head massage. I tell you he looked just like Pearl getting her head scratched - including the dreamy closed eyes. Total for both of us: $16.00.