Razor Ramblings: On Tour

For this installment of “Razor Ramblings: On Tour,” I ventured to Jaipur, aka the Pink City, in Rajasthan.  Expecting to be treated to the finest in local straight-edged hospitality, I was dumbfounded at the lack of blade wielders as Ryan and I roamed the crowded backstreets.  It became quite clear to me that when one is looking for something, it can never be found; when one isn’t looking for something, it’s everywhere.  Eventually we found a couple of shops willing to do the honours.  In hindsight, maybe we should’ve looked in a different part of town.  Never have I walked out of a shave with such a horrid look on my face; nor had I seen another man so stunned after a date with the shave man.  The rating tells you how it all went down….

Location: Somewhere in Jaipur

Number of Nicks: Too many to count

Rating: 2/5

I had to search long and hard for this place.  Normally, you would think such hard work would result in a nice reward.  Then again, this is India and nothing ever happens the way you would like it to.  

I could tell the moment I walked in that this was going to be more of a “Neighbourhood Event” than just a simply shave.  People were crowded around hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious foreigner who seemed to have wondered off the beaten path.  They no doubt thought, “Does he know what he’s getting into?”  Apparently I didn’t.

As the shave man lathered up my face, I kept wondering if the cold weather might affect the willingness of my pores to open up.  If there is one thing I can give the guy credit for, it was is masterful work with the horsehair brush.  Not a speck of lather on my lips, my nose, nor my ears.  The burning sensation of the eucalyptus in the cream was a bit troubling, but by no means alarming due to the experience I had in Goa.

Things were going along fine – even after the first run-through with the straight-edge.  I was impressed with his careful work around my defined jaw bone and that he wasn’t trying to race the guy shaving one of the locals next to me.  As the second lather came, it still seemed clear that I would walk out feeling like I always do: fresh.  That was until the second go-around with the shave came.

I couldn’t help but notice the difference in speed at which the guy was now working at.  It was like him going out for a Sunday drive only to realize that it was in fact a Formula 1 race.  He ripped the razor across my face at lightning speeds, leaving no chance at all to negotiate my chin and jaw bone.  

Alarm bells started going off when he brought out a healing stone the size of a boulder.  It was as if he hadn’t done enough damage with the blade that he had to rub this monstrosity on my face for about 2 minutes.  I’m fairly certain that one knock to the temple with this thing and I would’ve been carried out of there on a stretcher.  Had this been the worst of it, I probably could’ve afforded the guy a rating of 3, but there were still 3 creams, aftershave, and a violent face massage to come – and I don’t use the term “violent” lightly.    

The first two creams were mixed and applied to my face in the normal fashion.  Then the guy took his hands and started forcing the cream into my skin.  Over and over my face he went, gouging my eyeballs, and using his substantial hand strength to reach every nook and cranny.  Next the aftershave was brought out.  Apparently the guy thought it a good idea that my eyes smelled nice, so he performed the same violent motion as with the first two creams.

Finally the end was near.  The last cream was applied in a much calmer fashion, or at least compared to the previous two.  As I stepped out into the fresh air, my face felt like it had been sandpapered and then rubbed with hot chili oil.  My eyes were on fire and observers probably noticed me shuddering as I stumbled down the alleyway back to meet Ryan.  

You might want to check out his story…it was just as eventful.

“I donated so much blood that I should’ve been paid for that shave.”  – Ryan Hill