My First Haircut

Time flies when you’re living in a foreign country.

Five weeks have passed since I left Tampa International Airport to live in Costa Rica, and since I usually get my hair cut every four weeks, I was overdue.

Finding a good hairdresser is a difficult quest when everyone speaks the same language. How was I going to convey the concept of ‘cowlicks all over my head’ in Spanish? And which hairdressing salon would I go to?

I always like to give locals my business, so I walked down the hill and stopped at the first salon I saw, Sala de Belleza Evelyn. This is a one-woman, one-chair shop in Santa Ana run by Evelyn, a lovely divorced woman who lives further up my mountain with her 12-year-old son, I soon learned.

Evelyn started me off with a great head massage with shampoo that lasted 10 minutes. I melted. Then she sat me in her chair, which is not a beauty salon chair as we know it, but an office chair with arms. Through her native Spanish and gestures and my limited Spanish and gestures, she gave me one of the best haircuts I have had in recent memory.

And the cost? Only four bucks!

This was the week for pampering. The next day I attended my second Newcomer’s Club meeting, which was held at the White House, a very fine resort hotel overlooking the entire Central Valley with spectacular views. The hotel’s spa presented demonstrations of two types of facials and one massage.

When the esthetists asked for a guinea pig for a facial, my hand shot up. I lay on a treatment table in front of our group of 40 women and had my face worked on while a masseuse massaged my feet and calves. I was in heaven. That entire day my face felt like a baby’s bottom. I got to take home samples of face products, too.

In the interest of venturing out more and learning about my surroundings, I got on one of the buses that goes up my hill and stayed aboard til the end of the route, which is the area called Montoya, where my hairdresser and gardener live.

The road kept narrowing to the point where the bus could no longer pass and had to back down the hill to a place where it could turn around. I was the only person who didn’t get off the bus, and the driver asked me where I was going. I said I wanted to see Montoya, and that I thought the view was very pretty. He liked that.

The view from the top was very pretty, but the houses were ramshackle with corrugated tin roofs in disrepair. The people I saw in the streets talking to one another looked dirt poor but very happy. I smiled at their smiling faces.

I was reminded of what my gardener says every week when I pay him, “pura vida” – which is Costa Rica’s motto. It literally means “pure life” and it’s what Ticos say to each other to show that they’re enjoying their lives.

Pura vida,

Written by Margie Davis – Retirement in Costa Rica

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Andrew Makarik is the main editor of WeLoveCostaRica, a fan of this sunny country. He is also a loving husband and a has a lovely daughter. By being a devoted family man and the biggest Costa Rica fan, he wants to make more people feel at home there. WeLoveCostaRica unites people and helps them find new home or a new travel destination. This website is a friendly community where everyone can find not only information, but also new friends and travel pals. Andrew is also passionate about IT and programming, so he himself maintains a friendly atmosphere in this cozy environment of WeLoveCostaRica.com.