Shock, wild, poof, puff. Words sometimes used to describe hair. The last few weeks of my South
American Experience, from here on out abreviated S.A.E., has provided the opportunity to meet some special individuals with radical, even extremist, expressions of hair.
Case Study #1: Simon the lankey German. I traveled with this man for about 4 days in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, the same city of Sloth. He is German, tall, tranlucently skin toned, frightfully skinny, his name is Simon. Those attributes did not grab your eye though, but what did quite predictably was his ostentatious, invasive, bigger than life hair. I used dictionary.com
to determine how to correctly spell ostentatious, the site will enrich your life. When his head
went uncapped, and the brown mane was unleashed, I could not take my eyes away from the awesome site. All I could think of in my neverending comparative mind of minds was that I was associating with a reincarnated Ludwig van Beethoven. I used wikipedia.com
to find the picture of the grizzled looking composer, dont watch tv, just use wikipedia. Unfortunately the friendship between Simon and myself never reached an area of comfort where questions like hair product usage could be comfortably asked.
Case Study #2: Frenchmen Benjamin and Samuel. I met them while staying in Salta, a city in
Northern Argentina. We shared the same hostal named Corre el Camino, which is a shaky translation of road runner. They were also both very becoming and kind individuals. You will only meet the nicest people when traveling outside
your boundaries, and you will never meet more of them. (Enormous generalization for the day) So I feel it is almost redundant/futile to say I met two nice people. Moreover, we bonded quickly over crépes and billiards. We conversed in Spanish, becuase my French consists of roughly 10 words, and they felt more comfortable in Spanish as opposed to English. They accepted my Americanness and I accepted their odors. Their odors which ommitted from their bodies. Their bodies which hadn´t known a cleansing in two months. I want to illustrate here that my Americaness and their odors are not equated variables. Besides smelling smelly, they also had incredible and shocking hair. The kinda hair that leaves you staggering as if rocked by a left right combination from M. Ali, clinging to the ropes while your brain tries to reestablish synaptic connection. Samuel looks like he bought his hair in a store. Either that or he walked strait out of street fighter II video game.
Case Study #3: Israeli Effrat. Her hair simply filled the room. It earned her standing Spanish
ovations. While appearing to be washed regularly (judging from a lack of repugnant odor) and lacking natural gel, it still did things. Openly expressing my amazement with it, all I could muster to say at the time was "It´s just so....out there," said in a perplexed and exasperated tone. Of course she took offense. I am gonna go on record and say that Rapunzel would eat her own heart out with a spoon much sooner than turn green with envy. She not so politely declined my request of a picture of her hair probably becuase it is just a very odd request to make. Also because she probably thought I was going to put
her on blast. This pic will have to suffice, though it does her (hair) far from justice. Too bad Effie, I was just trying to make you famous.
Case Study #4: At examining all of these wonderful people, to be fair, I must also put myself under the microscope. This is me not more than a week ago at a Bolivian rodeo. (at these rodeos, kittens are not ridden) Radical facial hair creations were a must, and I rose to the challenge with my own brand of repulsion. All I can say is fear and revere mustaches everywhere, handle bars or not.