The Barber of Seoul

Peter Baker | 08:00, 29th October 2012 | Seoul, South Korea

What a relief to discover there was a barber’s shop in the men's health club on the third floor of my hotel here in Gangnam. I have never been to a fitness club like it. David Lloyd has a long way to go!

The experience was a revelation. Male grooming is taken very seriously in Korea – and that’s putting it mildly.

It didn’t start well, as I entered this paradise of pampering, mirrors, rest rooms, tubs and Jacuzzis. Well it wasn't my fault I couldn't understand the sign "No Shoes. No Clothes. No Towels".

Acutely embarrassed, and more aware than ever of being a foreigner, I stumbled into a small room from which the sound of whirring scissors could be heard.

I had no idea what to say or do. This was not the sort of hairdressers I am used to. Where was the dreadful chart music, the smell of stale Brylcreem, the buzz of electric clippers?

I was invited to sit in the chair. The barber had not a single word of English. I had only four phrases in Korean: 'hello', 'thank you', 'I am a pastor' and 'where is the subway?'

I began well with a hearty ‘Hello!’ Rather too well, it transpired, as the barber clearly thought I was fluent in Korean and started laughing excitedly and shouting in a high-pitched voice! Indecipherable words poured from his mouth at a hundred miles an hour.

Back home, my barber is boring. That's the way I like it. I go there to have a haircut, not a conversation. In Cardiff, after the briefest hello, it's “What number do you want today?” and off we go.

But here in Seoul, my hairdresser ran up and down the corridor telling everyone to come and meet the Moksanim (Pastor) as if I was his best friend.

This lasted a couple of minutes but eventually he calmed down, took a breath and then said something which I guessed was, "How do you like your hair done?"

I had used up all my Korean in the first 15 seconds. Somehow asking for directions to the subway wasn't going to help. So I held up four fingers and said in oriental, broken English, "Number four please.”

His mood changed instantly. I must have committed an act of cultural indecency. He was now as angry as he had been happy moments before. Shaking his head and hands in disbelief, he stormed out of the booth.

There were raised voices in the corridor. A major diplomatic incident was brewing.

So I played the only card I had left. “Where's the subway?" I shouted. Brief silence, and then laughter!

Thankfully, this seemed to diffuse the situation. My hairdresser reverted to his previous state of friendliness, returned to the chair and started jabbering and cutting away.

I still have no idea what four fingers in the air means. But I will never use that hand gesture again in Korea, and nor should you!

The haircut experience itself was amazing. Korean hairdressers take pride in their work. Every strand of hair is individually trimmed, every possible angle explored. There was a pre-cut and post-cut routine. After a full hour in the chair, my hair had been cut like it’s never been cut before!

But I learned a lesson about the difficulties we face if two people can't speak the same language. Even the most basic task becomes impossible.

The Good News of Christian faith is that God has translated Himself into our language so we can understand Him. He came in person - in Christ, the living word - to reveal the meaning of grace and truth. He speaks our language so that we can speak his.

The postscript to my Korean haircut was that, on leaving the club and passing the reception desk, the nice lady said to me in perfect English, "That will be 25 thousand Korean Won, Sir."

The haircut wasn't free. No inclusive residents deal here! Why didn’t somebody tell me?

Actually, if they had, I wouldn't have understood anyway!