A Country For Old Men

Peru has got me thinking about old folks. Who they are. What they do with their time. What fulfills them, and do they look for fulfilment at their age?

Maybe it´s an odd thing to be considering down here in Peru, in cultural heaven. Peru presents me with great ruins and amazing stonework and recovered pots and mummies and I want to talk about the old folks.

Two weeks ago, in Arequipa, Bjorn wanted to get a haircut. He needed one pretty badly - his hair was quite long. He looked just like a Nashville high-schooler, long curls hanging down out of his baseball cap. So, we thought, let´s just pop in somewhere and get a trim. We survived my big cut in Santiago, so surely this would be just as simple.

We spotted a classic-looking barber shop and were greeted at the door by an old Peruvian man. I´d guess he was 75. His Spanish was fast and his hands were furiously motioning us in, pointing at Bjorn´s blond curls as if to say, "I can fix that!" There was a middle-aged man in the seat, his wife waiting for him, and he graciously let Bjorn ahead of him, saying he was in no rush.

We assessed the situation. This middle-aged man had very presentable looking hair and was clearly a repeat customer, so the old barber must still have some skills with the hair, right?

Bjorn sat. The barber was all over him, fluffing his hair, showing him a picture of him and Hulk Hogan (no idea), wildly gesturing. I could not understand a word of this man´s Spanish. Not a word. But I went over and tried to help explain what Bjorn wanted - maybe an inch. "Of course, of course" the barber seemed to say. "I understand completely. Now, little lady, why don´t you have a seat, peruse a magazine. Nothing to worry about!"

I don´t know too much about cutting hair, I suppose, but I do know that when you´re just getting a trim, the electric razor probably isn´t the first step in the process. But that´s what Mr. Barber went with. Just combing Bjorn´s hair out, and then skimming the razor over it.

The next few minutes were hysterical. For me, that is, sitting in my chair, watching Mr. Barber butcher poor Bjorn´s hair.

I felt like I was watching your stereotypical old Italian man make a pizza pie-a. It was art. A couple inches off over here, maybe just 1/2 inch over here. Just whatever inspired him at the moment. Hair was flying, and he blabbered on and on during the entirety of the cut. I don´t know what he was saying, but I´m certain it was utter nonsense.

Bjorn´s hair was destroyed. The one inch off he asked for turned into at least two, probably three, and well, that´s a lot for a guy. I suppose it would be one thing if it was short but well done, but it was too short and totally uneven. Bjorn´s right ear was completely cleared of hair (as in, you can see a good bit of skin around it), but the left ear looked normal, more or less, with hair coming down to the ear. The top was left long - about twice as long as the sides - and there were random long pieces sticking out all over the place.

Of course, I did all the right things (except for laughing during the entire cut - maybe that wasn´t the right thing?). I told Bjorn it wasn´t that bad. It´s just hair. It´ll grow. Give it a week - you´ll be totally used to it. He was not happy, however. My words could not make the situation better.

Why is this man still in business? He has NO business cutting hair. He must be basically blind behind his glasses - why should he be allowed to apply scissors to innocent people´s hair?

Last week, when we arrived at the Huancayo bus terminal, an elderly man (probably 80ish) approached us, asking if we needed a taxi. Well, yes, that would be great, thanks. He led us out to his car - about as old as he was - and we sat in the backseat for several minutes as he tried to get his baby started. Each time he failed to get the ignition to turn over, he´d look back at us. "Un momento!" After several momentos, the car finally croaked to life, chugga-chugging onto the dark and rainy streets of Huancayo.

I swear to you this man could not see ten feet in front of him! He drove about 15 miles per hour the entire time, came dangerously close to parked cars and pedestrians, and began his turns far too early, only to slam on the breaks when he realized he was turning the car into a curb instead of a street.

Again, I ask you, why is this man still in business? He has NO business driving people around. This isn´t just vanity, not just a bad haircut at stake. This is personal safety!

I am making light of these situations, maybe, but really it´s quite sad. The answer is clearly that both of these men need to work. They need to support themselves just like I do, just like everyone does. They didn´t get to retire. They couldn´t possibly have put enough money away during their younger years to spare themselves (and their customers) from working straight through to the end.

And, oh, the pride with which both of these men worked was heart- breaking. They both acted as if they were 30 - a bit cocky, a pro. Do they know, deep down, that they should not be working? Do they know their days of productivity are over? And if they do know, how do they go on?

But they go on because they have to. Homelessness is not an option they want to turn to. So they try to fool the public (and maybe themselves) into believeing they´re still as good at barbering, at chauffering, as they once were.

What if you didn´t have retirement to look forward to? What, then?

Heavy stuff. Lo siento!

I am in Cusco now and probably will be here for a while. There´s gobs to do here (aside from seeing Macchu Picchu, which I am doing on Thursday), so it ought to be a good time. Heaps of ruins today and white water rafting tomorrow and who knows what else.

Hope everyone´s enjoying a lovely May weekend! Much love.