There has always been a fantasy of me getting a hairdue in some exotic country. Wher no one understands my - like a ride on a rollercoaster, without protection belts. The time has come the last fall in Algeria. I was over-due to get my hippie-hair removed. we got attached to a family there and because I wanted to take a photo, the mother wanted to get a fresh haircut. I joined her but was thrown out of the hairdressers place - strictly for girls...
So I joined the man of the house in search for the barber. We went to the next mosque and got lucky. After the prayers Rashid the barber stepped out and took us straight to his shop. Rashid certainly is quite a figure with his Footballers hairdue and the fashionable glasses - he is some mixture of David Beckham and Elton John enhanced with traces of Dame Edna. After a while he opened a massive metal garage-door et voilá: Big Hair-Studio. Elvis and James Dean on the wall - I instantly knew: Rashid is a winner. My french ain't such a bliss but I made myself clear what I wanted and it was quite an experience to get shorter there. Sitting next to my was a cab-driver with a beard larger than the one of Karl Marx. I was probably the first ever customer, who pulled out a camera during the process, and even my neighbour with the long beard didn't run away, I guess he couldn't. In the end I got invited for the hairdue and didn't have to pay. I was grateful for that. But I don't know if Rashid can make a business, when he always makes friends but no money...
Try your luck with Rashid in the Spanish quarter of Oran. Ask for him or catch him after the prayers...

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