A History of Horrid Haircuts

Modern Mullet?

After months of quarantine and despite a decision to grow my hair longer, I finally ventured out to a hairdresser.  In my head I constructed a complicated algorithm of risk versus reward and was fed up with looking scary in the mirror, especially in the morning when I look like a Who from Whoville.  I wanted layers to tame my hedge thick hair but didn’t want all the length off.  I searched Google and discovered a Modern Mullet, a little less frumpy than a Shag (which is quickie sex in the UK but a hairstyle in the US).  Somehow I thought that, with some fairy magic, I could be transformed into mirror images of Scarlett Johanssonn or Miley Cyrus, both of whom experimented with a Modern Mullet.  I didn’t take into account that my hair is the wrong texture and I am 60 years old.  Maybe they regretted it too?

Pyramid hair in Giza 2003!

Halfway through, I could see this was going to be a disaster and remembered a similar sinking feeling in Cairo when I went to the local hairdresser in 2003.  Her special skill was making my frizzy hair look like a pyramid.  The title of this blog tells you everything about my hair.  This time in our 2020 crazy world, I drove straight home, dropped my clothes in the washer before running naked into the shower, futilely trying to wash away any virus, dodgy haircut and lack of good judgment .  My hair looked a little better with the product washed out but it still looked like a bad 70’s mullet – all business at the front; party at the back.  Teddy’s face was a picture…  I managed not to cry because it’s just a bloody haircut and of no importance in a ‘these difficult times’.  Later, I howled with laughter about my predicament and regaled Teddy with the tales of bad haircuts – some of which he was there for.

The Scottish Pyramid style 1990s??

The first bad haircut that I recall was in the mid 70’s when my friend and I decided on a whim (bad idea) to go to the local hairdresser for a cheap trim.  My hair was already short and layered but I came out looking like someone from an internment camp with lice.  My friend’s bangs/fringe was cut at a sharp diagonal, almost as though she had stolen a protractor from our school bags.  Oh, how we laughed…  It was even more hysterical because misery loves company.  Think of how much worse it would have been if one haircut was good??  At a later date, I colored the hair of the long suffering friend.  It was supposed to be Blonde but it was really Ginger.  You would think I have learned a lesson but I did the same to an American friend a few years ago.  I bet you don’t have friends who are that trusting???

The second really bad cut was in our local town in Aberdeenshire (always go to the big city salon).  Astonishingly, she was trained at the same place as the Egyptian hairdresser and this time I had a slightly shorter but just as wide pyramid with fringe/bangs.  The third disaster, a few years later, was a good cut, at least.  My hairdresser had some new product that enabled her to blow dry my hair into glorious straight locks – I was so delighted!  It was smirring (light rain) in Aberdeen and as we walked out into the night my hair transformed.  Ringlets appeared one by one until my head was covered in a riot of curls – more than usual.  Teddy was with me and was fascinated by the alchemy of my hair.  We laughed then, too…

My hair has always been a family problem.  Nana and my mum battled with my hair for years.  I even had a special treatment called ‘Toddle locks’ that helped tease out the knots.  They weren’t used to my alien, thick, coarse Hispanic hair.  When I was 13 years old my mum admitted defeat said “Brush it yourself!”  I did brush it but ignored the matting birds nest underneath.  Finally she discovered it and marched me off to the nearest hairdresser.  They spent hours painfully combing out the mat and had to cut some of it out.  I was so ashamed that I think that is the first time I have told that story.  She let me cut it short after that…

To be honest, I thought I was beyond bad haircuts at my venerable age but apparently you are never too old to look like an ass.  I am going to wear my Mullet like a hair shirt and contemplate my vanity.  Thank goodness for baseball caps…

PS – In case you are wondering, there is no perm involved – that is my natural hair texture.  More of an entity, really.

Dzibilchaltún and the Temple of the Dolls

Temple of the Dolls

Try saying that when you have had a couple of glasses of Mexican Rosé…  Dzibilchaltún, (Dzeebeelchaltoon is the pronunciation and it translates as ‘the place with writing on the walls) is a Maya archeological site close to the city of Mérida in Yucatan, Mexico.  Seven small clay or stone figurines were found at the Temple of the Dolls which led to the name and it is built under the ruins of a previous pyramid.  The city has been continuously occupied for 3000 years.  It was exciting walking towards the Temple along the ‘sacbe’ or white road wondering what type of religious processions took place there.

The white road

The cenôte is likely the reason why the city was situated in that location and it is one of the largest, deepest in the Yucatan.  Dzibilchaltún was a wealthy port, close to the Caribbean and local salt production.  Archeologists have studied just a portion of the site and have found up to 8000 structures – it must have been a buzzing city with a peak population of about 20,000 to 40,000 people, even larger than Mayapan.  Dzibilchaltún was not as remote or quiet as Mayapan but still relatively quiet with many local visitors, some expats and non-tourists just like me!  Throughout the ages Dzibilchaltún has changed from a city to a town to its current status as a village.  It began to decline in popularity after the rise of Chichen Itza.

Dzibiltchaltun Cenote

water hyacinths at cenote

When the Conquistadores arrived they used the local stone from previous structures to build a 16^th century chapel which is now also a ruin.

remains of 16th century chapel

Eight stucco masks of the Rain God Chaac were found in the Temple of the Dolls.  The Yucatan has no natural lakes or rivers so rain is still much needed to fill the cenotes and water crops.  My upbringing in Scotland has given me enough rain to last a lifetime…  At the equinoxes the sun shines right through the entrance to the Temple of the Dolls creating a fantastic effect.

Remains of a pyramid at Dzibiltchaltun

Tunnel into Pyramid

Little flash of red in jungle

On a final side note, my Mexican Rose wine was quite delicious and went well with the food in Yucatan, which is hearty.  The Spanish brought wine-making to Mexico and most of it comes from Baja, just below California.

Mayapán Ruinas – sshhh!

Temple of Kukulcan

Although I have been to the Yucatan area of Mexico a few times, I have never visited the famous pyramids. I have visited Tulum, the youngest Maya site, as you can read in an older blog. As much as Chechen Itza fascinates me, my almost phobic fear of too many tourists, has made me avoid it. Before this rapidly organized trip to Merida, I researched travel blogs to see how easy it would be to hire a driver to reach some of the more remote archeological sites. Apparently it was as easy as negotiating with a taxi driver, especially since I only wanted to go for 4 hours at a time.

Plaza

After I arrived at my newly renovated hotel, I asked the receptionist about a driver. She told me that a driver had just handed in some cards. I said that websites had indicated that 800 pesos was reasonable for 4 hours. When she called him, he counter offered 1,100 pesos which is about $60. That seemed fair and he arrived very promptly in a very clean new red car. He was a charming young man, perhaps in his late 30s, rejoicing in the name Angel Ku. Ku is a native name meaning frypan. He had a little English and I had bad Spanish but we communicated perfectly well. I explained that I didn’t like crowds, so off we went to the Mayapán Zona Arqueológica, not to be confused with the town of Mayapán.

Carving detail

The archeological ruins were in excellent condition, it cost just a few pesos and there were about 20 other visitors in what was once a city of 17,000 people. Between the 1200s and 1400s it was the capital of the Maya, situated about 30 miles south east of Merida and 70 miles west of Chichen Itza. Mayapán had about 4000 structures within the city walls and many more outside, presumably for workers and farmers. One of the most attractive temples is the Temple of Kukulcan – it is the light version as the temple at Chichen Itza is more intricate and structurally sound. The limestone used at Mayapán is an inferior grade, perhaps all that was available in that location? It is believed that the founder of Mayapán was King Kukulcan (aka Quezalcoactl) after the fall of Chichen Itza.
There are some unique elements to the site with so many rounded buildings and no ball courts. This is the Temple Redondo –

Temple Redondo

View from Redondo to Pyramid

There were 26 cenotes (sinkholes providing water) around the city which perhaps explains the high population or vice versa. It has a central plaza which was surrounded by government buildings and houses of nobles. Other houses within the walled area encircled patios. Mayapán has a rather bloody history with shafts filled with sacrificial victims but at some point it was an important center of trade all across Central America. A wide range of foods were eaten and grown; there is some evidence of slaves which suggests wealth of the nobility. There is some evidence that there was a death cult. I mused if a large population and perhaps a catastrophic weather change might have contributed to the fighting with other tribes and the ultimate demise of Mayapán but that is pure supposition on my part. All great empires fall eventually, take note USA.

Inside the round tower

It was utterly magical to be in a pyramid city, almost alone with endless acreage of jungle right beside the site. If I had walked into the jungle, I might never have been found again. The photograph below shows how steep the pyramid climb was but it was so worth it! You really had to go up on hands and feet. On the way down I sat on my bottom and climbed down that way. If I had stood up, the steepness would have terrified me. It amused me that the teenagers just copied what I did (and they were a tad slower).

Vertigo!

It was blissfully quiet with no signs of any current habitations. If you visit, there are no facilities at the sight – no restrooms and you can only travel by car, bus or local bus. Please don’t tell too many people… La belleza estaba en la tranquilidad – the beauty was in the tranquility. There are no vendors, just some staff and it is still being excavated by archaeologists.

panorama of Mayapan

Kerry musing

Christmas in Egypt

Christmas was different in Egypt, for all sorts of reasons. At the time we were there it was close to Ramadan on two consecutive years. Ramadan is celebrated on the ninth month of the Muslim year and their calendar is different from our Roman one. Muslims have to fast from sunrise to sunset. Each country celebrates this religious event in a different way but in Egypt it was party central. As soon as sun set everyone crowded restaurants, ate delicious meals at home and stayed up all hours. We all dreaded the festival because, quite naturally, everyone was a tad grumpy while fasting. They had also eaten too much and slept too little making the driving more chaotic than usual.

Most households light little blue glass Ramadan lanterns which were hung from balconies. As it was approaching Christmas it gave Cairo a festive feel. We lived on the edge of the city at that time, close to the desert, and on a cold winter night you could see the stars so brightly in the sky. It was endlessly fascinating because we were in a different position of the world, as was our view of the constellations. There is a large minority of Coptic Christians who are believed to be the original Christians. They have their own Pope who I had the privilege of seeing at the airport. They celebrate Christianity in a more Orthodox manner and Christmas Day is on January 7th. So we had three festivals one after the other – it was a wonder the country functioned…

One crisp cool night, I remember looking up at the stars and thinking how close we were to the place of Jesus’ birth. Did it look, smell and sound similar? It was as close as I was going to get to the Holy Land as your passport could not have both Israeli and Middle-Eastern stamps on it. My husband had two separate passports to travel on for work. The desert has a magical feel, especially in the winter. It can reach almost freezing but warms up dramatically during the day. You can easily image djinns or genies as the westerners say. Our Egyptian friend who was a strict Muslim still believed in djinns and thought to them with some fear. In general Egyptians were superstitious especially if they were Bedouin and many were.

One Christmas party I met an Algerian lady who was very pretty with brown eyes and blonde hair. Her brown eyes came from her French Algerian mother but her blonde hair came from her blonde, blue eyed Berber farther. Apparently it is quite common – Vikings, I assume? I would have loved to have visited Algeria and Berber villages but it was just too dangerous especially in the middle of the Gulf War. Most of the expats left Cairo desperately at Christmas time to have some normality at home but we had nowhere to go and the flights were expensive. It was really quite nice spending the holidays in such an exotic place.

One more opportunity to market my book –Letters from Cairo by Kerry Duncan.