Barbero de Sevilla

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Many of you probably know that I don’t visit the barber very often. Maybe every three years. But when I do, it’s normally in a far away place, with a barber that speaks no English, with hair down to my shoulders. What better place to get a haircut in Spain than in Seville. This is the Barber of Seville– Joaquin.

I’ve never had my hair cut by Joaquin, but he knew when I named the favorite local Danish soccer star sensation, Simone Kjaer, that was all there was to say.

After he laughed for about a minute, he dunked my head into a sink and washed my already washed head.

Hali kept him occupied with the normal small talk: the weather, the gangs of tourists, and next best place to have a beer as I sat silent watching clumps of hair pile high onto the floor beneath the barber’s chair.

hair on floor at barbershop

Chop, chop, chop.

Took him about 20 minutes of cutting, a little straight edge shave around the neck and ears, and some goo he fingered through my scalp. Then he spun me around in the barber chair to face the mirror in front of me, and with a big grin said, Viola, Simone Kjaer!

We all laughed until the next guy came in for a cut from the Barber of Seville.

You can say I got my money’s worth, 11Euro($13). Gracias Joaquin for a most memorable souvenir from Seville.

About Woody

The travel bug is contagious. I caught it in 1985 while traveling with Hali on a three month backpacking trip through Western Europe. Having a passion for geography, local history & culture, and with a journal in my back pocket, I hope to share our experiences through this blog – whether traveling the well worn rail, or off the beaten trail.

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