Feeling fine and Florentine
“The Tuscan Frying Pan,” Florence was earning its title that day, certified in sweat dripping down the backs and sides of tourists squinting in the Piazza della Signoria, and my hair felt, again,… Continue reading
“The Tuscan Frying Pan,” Florence was earning its title that day, certified in sweat dripping down the backs and sides of tourists squinting in the Piazza della Signoria, and my hair felt, again,… Continue reading
Can you think of a better movie for the barbershop TVs than Edward Scissorhands? I couldn’t, but then again, in the heat of Santiago de Cuba, and with the gummybear feeling in my… Continue reading
“Puppy’s Barbershop:You’re ugly when you arrive, but you’re handsome when you leave.” My eyes wandered from the handmade sign, past photos of a younger Puppy, along the fuchsia bicycle with a handmade… Continue reading
I got The Haircut again. In Nicaragua, Morocco, and Myanmar I liked it, described it as “Much lighter, now I won’t sweat so much” and “my tiny shampoo bottle will last longer.”… Continue reading
The second little bottle of shampoo from the hotel in Istanbul emptied much faster than the first. Must be time for a haircut again. Signs all over town advertise “The French Touch: Bakery,… Continue reading