They'd just moved into a flat rented out by a rather mysterious young man in his late twenties who promptly and seemingly truthfully described to us his awkward situation that allowed him to offer the flat. Summed up: he had found a place in a high rent neighborhood, illegally built walls to create more rooms in the place and is now renting the spot for his own personal gain of about four-fold the original rent. Why he felt the need to describe (in detail) his arrangement can be understood by the following: that should the old grocer on the first floor inquire about him or the place, that he is a roommate in the flat as well and in no way rents the place out. It is also known by the end of his story that they know the true and rightful landlord and he doesn't want to lose the sweet deal he's managed to protect for three years.
As I type this on the 9th of September, here in Istanbul, the reflection of my face in the window nudging my desk reveals my cheeks to be swollen and rosy. Fear not reader, I haven't been crying. I owe this affliction to the recommendation of this just-described landlord. For you see, Omer asked him a place for us to have a cheap beard trim.
My friends' newly acquired landlord who I am sure will continue to offer us ancillary suggestions in the future described to Omer a place not far from the main square, Taksim, just off the main shopping road 'Istiklal'. Omer, being half Turkish, was easily able to navigate us accordingly and I owe the newfound condition of my cheeks and forehead to the barber recommended us. At the cheap price of 4₤ I should have guessed something awry.
As the warm, green, molasses-like gel was dolloped onto my cheekbones and drawn upward, to surround my brow I had my guesses this was not what I had asked for and neither was it part of the standard beard trim regardless of what country we're in. Curiosity, however, withdrew any complaints about this style of trim that might have found me. My ears were filled and the aqua gel was left to cool.
While this Turkish barber began to peel my ear from this waxing gel and not the other way around realization occurred. Too deep into the process and still curious what could be next, I allowed this mock barber to continue his methods of cash extraction. Next, a blue mask was applied and to my left and right I could glimpse entertained smiles on my German comrades faces. I asked Hannes, "How ridiculous do you find this to be right now?" he replied "Very!" and asked me to take his picture, his experience obviously not tainted by the clever sales trick.
Leaving the space we ended up paying 40 lira a piece instead of the intended 4 lira. The consensus among us being: the experience was worth it but not to be repeated, and also that the barber wasn't so good at much more than a shave and pampering treatment because I had to clean up my beard with a pair of small scissors when I got home.
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