h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

http://www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/guide/A165243

'PABLO' ---PARRUCCHIERE per HUOMO




As I stepped through the bead-curtained doorway I got a feeling of going back in time to when I was a boy, a time when a man went for a haircut and a woman for a hairdo, and unisex hair salons and girls cutting men's hair were undreamt of. I had been searching for the best part of an hour throughout the Italian Mediterranean resort of Pietra Ligure before finding the words 'Parrucchiere per Huomo' –men's hairdresser- written on the awning of a small shop located in a quiet street not far from the beach. Inside were four vacant wooden chairs and in front of a large mirror was a revolving adjustable chair occupied by a round and red faced man of advanced years who was talking animatedly to the barber. The latter, being addressed as 'Pablo' was a medium sized, very compact man, in a spotless white coat who had deep brown eyes set in a neutral face and a gleaming pate with a few strands of black hair slicked across it. He nodded me to a chair and spread his palms towards me showing all his fingers, which I took to indicate that I had approximately ten minutes to wait. I was not surprised that he knew I was a foreigner for I was dressed in shorts and tee-shirt and, though my perspiring face was tanned, my scraggy pale white legs were obviously displayed only on holiday, and far from home at that.


There was an atmosphere of calm and quietude far removed from that of the main part of the resort only a few meters away where traffic never ceased to drone and blare for passage or in protest and the sounds from the beach were a blend of children's cries, teenage horseplay and beach volleyball supporters' triumphant shouts and defeated groans.

Watching Pablo cutting hair was in itself a relaxation. His movements were economical and sure, no sense of hurry, yet not slow, a snip of the scissors, a glance of appreciation and then another snip, all in continuous and fluid movement. There was a counter running the length of the bottom of the mirror and on this lay shaving brushes and bowls, scissors, razors, spray bottles of talcum powder and scents, and, incongruously, a small radio cassette player. He kept a pair of spectacles there and whenever he had fine work to do he would pause, put them on, scrutinise the area to be trimmed, remove them and go back to

his task. All the talking was being done by the customer, Pablo merely nodding either directly at him or via the mirror.
Close on the ten minutes later it was my turn. He gravely helped me to don the gown before I sat in the chair. He then swept the floor around it with the same deliberate movements with which he walked, cut hair, and I was sure, ate his dinner. He looked at me and did a little mime with the scissors, I indicated yes to a haircut and he nodded. Then he did another mime of lathering the face, I shook my head, he nodded again. I never knew there could be such dignity in a nod. We were ready. He got to work using three tools in sequence, a scissors, a cut-throat razor and an electric razor. He was meticulous about his work and I sensed that he loved it. I kept absolutely still, that being my only possible contribution to the performance, for a performance it was. After several minutes he carefully looked at his watch, slowly looked around his shop as if to verify the obvious, that nobody was waiting, went into a little alcove and came back with a sign saying 'CHIUSO' which I knew to mean 'closed'. He hung it on the inside door-handle, shut the door and partly closed the window blinds. It was nearly seven in the evening and I was now his last customer. He went to his radio cassette player, looked at me, raised his eyebrows in a query and said at the same time, 'Musica?' I smiled understanding and assent, whereupon he took a cassette and looked at it for a long time before putting it in the deck. A beautiful light tenor voice accompanied by mandolins began to soar with the Neapolitan folk song 'Santa Lucia'. It must have been the setting and the circumstances but I was astonished to get goose-pimples of joyous pleasure. I love Neapolitan music and have many discs of the better known songs sung by all the famous Italian tenors which I play on the most sophisticated hi-fi available but never, ever, did I have a reaction like that. It was sheer bliss.


Pablo listened to his music the same way as he cut hair, actively. He would cock an ear to judge the sound quality, then go over and make a little adjustment, up or down in volume, or a slight change in tone until he was satisfied that a particular
song was being heard under the best possible conditions, and given the respect as was its due. The next track was 'O sole Mio' and as it played my fingers started to make the motions of a conductor. Pablo noticed this and immediately stopped his work, turned the chair around to face him, and gave me a delightful smile,

'Musica Napolitana, bellissima?"
I made gestures with my hands and face to indicate that I adored it.
He pointed to himself,
"Io sono Napolitana…Naples"
Then he pointed at me,
"Allemand?
I shook my head , Irish, Irlande"
"Ah Irlande, paese bellissimo, bellisimo."
He motioned his hands indicating that we must however carry on with the haircutting. The finishing off of the cut was the longest part for Pablo kept alternating between scissors, razor, and contemplation, until he was satisfied. The music was playing but in his concentration I was sure he heard none of it. Finally he put some lotion on my hair, combed it, powdered my neck, squirted perfumed alcohol all over my head, trimmed my eyebrows, the hairs in my ears, and was proceeding to attack those of my nose before I managed to stop him. He gently lifted off my gown, once more put on his glasses, removed them after examining my neck, and used the cut-throat to scrape off some hairs which were offending him.


I paid. He had worked assiduously and skilfully for more than half an hour and his charge was half of what I was expecting.

I was thanking Pablo and trying to show my pleasure at the whole experience when he made a sign for me to sit down on a chair near the recorder. He then either fast-forwarded or reversed the tape a few times until he found a spot he wanted. He leaned back in his barber chair, put his hands behind his head, closed his eyes while listening to the music and the singing and for the next ten minutes there was no other sound except an occasional ' bellisssimo?' directed to me for agreement.

When it was all finished we said our 'Buono Seras' and I left. At first I regretted the barrier of language which prevented me from knowing more about Pablo but on reflection I was glad of that. I had been enriched by him. I had been given a lot to think about. Here was a man who had a skill, who worked very hard to use it to his best ability and, whatever his life was like outside of his shop, from eight-thirty in the morning until seven in the evening, six days a week, he was relaxed and happy knowing, much better than I did, how to live. I needed to learn no more than that, except perhaps how best to emulate him.

Try this link:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/guide/A629084

Please feel free to shoot the messenger...

this does not appear as the sort of things which the Edited Guide is made of (for reference, please take a look at the http://www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/guide/Writing-Guidelines).

However, your essay already *is* part of the Guide , and you may want to check some of the places h2g2 offers for this type of entry, like:

the Post, http://www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/guide/ThePost,
the AGGH at http://www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/guide/A506675,
the FFFF at http://www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/guide/A254314,

and last not least,
the AWW: http://www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/guide/A608799.
The intro there says it all: "The Alternative Writing Workshop is for entries that don't fit the Writing Guidelines but which are still worth talking about and improving (such as entries that are pure humour, fiction or otherwise not eligible for the Edited Guide)."

I would never think of shooting the messenger. Thanks for your intervention.
It seems that Gaston la Gaffe has been in action again. I didn't quite know what to do with the piece because it's not fiction, and only written in the first person because it was something that happened to me which gives me great pleasure to 'recollect in tranquility'. I think the best thing I can do with it is just to keep it like that for me.
I enjoyed writing it.
The incident happened in August 2000 and an amusing thing happened when I returned to Pablo this August.I don't speak any Italian and he of course doesn't understand English. I didn't expect him to remember me and he didn't at first . He went about his work exactly as before without a word passing betwen us. The cassette player was lying on the same shelf and after a while I pointed at it and said
'Musica Neapolitano?'
He said nothing and I decided that he certainly didn't remember and probably thought I was mad. After a long moment he turned the chair so that he looked at me full in the face. and shook his head and wagged his finger.
'No. Musica Sicilia. I Siciliano.'
I had committed another gaffe but I relished the moment.

I would never think of shooting the messenger. Thanks for your intervention.
It seems that Gaston la Gaffe has been in action again. I didn't quite know what to do with the piece because it's not fiction, and only written in the first person because it was something that happened to me which gives me great pleasure to 'recollect in tranquility'. I think the best thing I can do with it is just to keep it like that for me.
I enjoyed writing it.
The incident happened in August 2000 and an amusing thing happened when I returned to Pablo this August.I don't speak any Italian and he of course doesn't understand English. I didn't expect him to remember me and he didn't at first . He went about his work exactly as before without a word passing betwen us. The cassette player was lying on the same shelf and after a while I pointed at it and said
'Musica Neapolitano?'
He said nothing and I decided that he certainly didn't remember and probably thought I was mad. After a long moment he turned the chair so that he looked at me full in the face. and shook his head and wagged his finger.
'No. Musica Sicilia. I Siciliano.'
I had committed another gaffe but I relished the moment.

I would never think of shooting the messenger. Thanks for your intervention.
It seems that Gaston la Gaffe has been in action again. I didn't quite know what to do with the piece because it's not fiction, and only written in the first person because it was something that happened to me which gives me great pleasure to 'recollect in tranquility'. I think the best thing I can do with it is just to keep it like that for me.
I enjoyed writing it.
The incident happened in August 2000 and an amusing thing happened when I returned to Pablo this August.I don't speak any Italian and he of course doesn't understand English. I didn't expect him to remember me and he didn't at first . He went about his work exactly as before without a word passing betwen us. The cassette player was lying on the same shelf and after a while I pointed at it and said
'Musica Neapolitano?'
He said nothing and I decided that he certainly didn't remember and probably thought I was mad. After a long moment he turned the chair so that he looked at me full in the face. and shook his head and wagged his finger.
'No. Musica Sicilia. I Siciliano.'
I had committed another gaffe but I relished the moment.

I would never think of shooting the messenger. Thanks for your intervention.
It seems that Gaston la Gaffe has been in action again. I didn't quite know what to do with the piece because it's not fiction, and only written in the first person because it was something that happened to me which gives me great pleasure to 'recollect in tranquility'. I think the best thing I can do with it is just to keep it like that for me.
I enjoyed writing it.
The incident happened in August 2000 and an amusing thing happened when I returned to Pablo this August.I don't speak any Italian and he of course doesn't understand English. I didn't expect him to remember me and he didn't at first . He went about his work exactly as before without a word passing betwen us. The cassette player was lying on the same shelf and after a while I pointed at it and said
'Musica Neapolitano?'
He said nothing and I decided that he certainly didn't remember and probably thought I was mad. After a long moment he turned the chair so that he looked at me full in the face. and shook his head and wagged his finger.
'No. Musica Sicilia. I Siciliano.'
I had committed another gaffe but I relished the moment.

phew, thanks for saving my life

oh yeah, and this server has got you in its claws Once you've pressed the 'Post Message' button, your posting *is* in the input queue even if the server fails to send the updated page back to you. The best thing to do is:
- scroll down below the 'Post Message' button,
- *copy* the link (right click, copy link location) from the line which reads 'click here to return to the conversation',
- open a new browser window,
- paste the link into the navigation bar of this window,
- voila! See your posting having made its way

Thanks again Bossel. You can imagine my surprise when, having thought that my messsage had not gotten through, I found it staring me in the face in triplicate. See you around.
Gaston

Hmmm... since we all seem to be in agreement that this one isn't Edited Guide bound, how would people feel about moving this thread to the AWW?


Mikey

'And then do with me what ye will'
Gaston

ok then, I'll second it.

Hey gaston, just take a look around the Alternative Workshop, there's excellent reading and entertaining stuff there. It's just that the Edited Guide aims at a different kind of stuff

Editorial Note: This conversation has been moved from 'Peer Review' to 'The Alternative Writing Workshop'.

hi Gaston,

I have just read your wonderful article. Thanks for sharing.

This is great stuff. You evoke the scene very sensually; it's all there, sights, sounds, touch and smell (did I just imagine I could smell those "spray bottles of talcum powder and scents"?) If you had included what you had for dinner that evening I feel sure I would have known whether the wine complemented the tagliatelli or not.
In a word, I like your style, mister!

Ok, I so like it. That's enough brown-nosing. Welcome (if rather belatedly) to AWW. You seem to have been languishing here unread for some time now without people seeing what you have here. That seems like a shame to me as I am sure many people would enjoy this story.

The following is not exactly a 'standard' welcome e-mail. I am not here in any official capacity. I just sent it to someone else recently and felt that it applied equally to your situation. Naturally, I have adapted it in places to apply specifically to you. Quand meme!

Didn't stick to the ol' guidelines, eh? Tsk! They don't like that kind of thing over on PR. Fear not though, there are those who don't feel that 'edited guide entry' are the only words that give an article here on h2g2 authenticity. Don't feel that your article has gone down in the world. It has taken a step sideways into the rather different climes of AWW, where you may find it is in rather better company than it was next door.

Not to say there's anything wrong with being 'factual', 'neutral', 'balanced' and 'informative'. Nonetheless, they are not the be all and end all in life, the universe and the other thing. Weird and wacky are both perfectly respectable words, as is silly (although it doesn't begin with a 'w', so it is clearly at a disadvantage compared to the first two).

Your 'tale' is a first person account of a memorable, special and very personal experience. That is rarely going to gel with the h2g2 guidelines but it has other qualities that I think merit greater attention (and would be appreciated by many researchers here).

Anyway, you have opened up your heart to a community named after some of the funniest books of the past 25 years only to find that they want you to be deadly serious and packed you off to a workshop.

Don't Panic!

For one thing, they haven't locked the door. Furthermore, you are very welcome to the place they've packed you off to.

-------------------

It seems that even by the comparatively calm standards of AWW you are not getting noticed here. My initial thought is that the title you have chosen is not likely to attract the idle reader on the look-out for entertaining reading. Could you consider a change there?

Secondly, the text (I read it in the thread. Is it up on an A page anywhere?) is rather chunky. As a reader, I tend to prefer rather shorter paragraphs.

Finally, a few of us have been discussing how to get this kind of thing noticed around here. I am intending to send them a link to your piece to see what they think. I don't imagine you would have any problem with this, but if you *do*, don't hesitate to let me know. I'm not sensitive about being told to mind my own business, and when told to, I generally do.

Spiff

Hello Spiff,
I've just got in from work and have to go out again after eating. I've had time to read your posts but not to absorb them. I would like however to give you my first reaction which is, a big THANK YOU. You've lifted my moral. I'll respond more fully to your words over the weekend.
Best regards,
Gaston

Hello Spiff,
Thanks for your encouraging comments on the effort to write about my experience in Pablo's barber shop. It's all there 'sights, sounds, touch and smell' only because the experience was so affecting. It's really nice for me that I've been able, through writing, to have somebody else empathize with what I felt.
I agree with you about the title. It is already difficult to catch the attention of the casual surfer and this one was never going to succeed in elbowing its way to the viewers eye. I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps it could be 'Musical chairs with a difference'- this would attract the curious and might even be "factual, neutral, balanced and informative" enough to please the PR people.
As to the format I must admit to being rather lacking in word-processing skills. The text was not meant to be chunky. I had written it in short paragraphs to avoid having it tiresome to read but I've obviously gone wrong somewhere subsequently. What is an 'A page'?

I'd be delighted if you got some other people to say what they think. I understand the true meaning of the word and purpose of 'criticism' and it's always welcome "Chez Moi".
Thanks again and keep up your own refreshing work.
Gaston

gaston,
Spiff is madly running round the 'un-editted' pages of the Guide looking for and finding great pieces like yours that deserve more attention and a wider readership. He is one of a group called AGG/GAG/CAC (the name keeps growing!) but the CAC part stands for Creative Anarchy Co-op, the GAG is Glactic Anomalies Group and the AGG is Another Guide to the Galaxy. But I hasten to point out that 'Another' refers only to our 'point of view' from within the House Rules of h2g2. We do stand outside the Guidelines of the Edited Guide. We consdier them too restrictive to creative writing.
I think we'd like to feature your piece as something like "Neapolitan Musical Chairs" in an upcoming issue of AGG/GAG which has just started as a regular feature of the h2g2Post.

Click on this link:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/guide/U187783

And feel free to strike up a conversation there.
peace
~jwf~

Thanks JWF.
I'm really getting to like h2g2 again now that I meet open minds.
It's refreshing to have people thinking creatively.
I've had the courage to post an entry directly to AWW called "The Judge." It's another true story but I only hope I pressed all the right buttons.
Thanks for your interest and your help.
Gaston
( The idea of "Neapolitan Musical Chairs" as a title for the other piece is just great.)

Hi there Gaston,

Well, it looks like you're in for a shot at a a slot (NB - this is not supposed to be a palindrome) in the h2g2 post. I think the title idea is good too. Anyone else had a look?

Spiff

Hello Spiff,
I sense a certain movement in H2G2 which is going to ensure its future. Like you I would like to be a part of it . Thanks for opening the door to me.
Best regards
Gaston