Bad Hair Day

Today we set out to find a barber that once cut my hair last year and, as rare as it is in the world of barbering, did a good job. We were given general instructions by someone who knows the place and we set out by bus to Zihuatanejo. No, it was not the Batmobile that arrived. It was a bus decorated simply with numbers, namely 007. With some misgivings we boarded it, destination: hair salon. Although later our bus did almost bump into another one, it was the fault of the other bus driver. Our driver was clearly, and happily, not a Mr. Bond wannabe.

There comes a time.

Well, we resolutely trekked around the area where we understood it would be, but to no avail. We gave it a good hour and a half, tired ourselves out, and had to stop at an OXXO (convenience store) for some cold liquid refreshment. Actually, due to the warmth of the sunshine we stopped a few times to recoup. Here is a photo I took from a shaded concrete bench ...

 Despite our failed search for the barber we had the consolation of flowers bursting upon us at the most unexpected moments.

So despite my ardent desire for a shearing I continue on for at least another day as a mop top. We stopped at the Commerciale, the big supermarket here, to fill a few bags with needed items, and took a taxi back to our place. Our gray-haired taxi driver *was* a Mr. Bond wannabe and covered the elevated expressway over the valley at a speed about 50% over the limit. On the other hand we were passed by all other vehicles on the road. I'd think that if the speed limit signs didn't impress these fellows perhaps those occasional crosses by the side of the road would. You know, the ones with flowers laid around them and sometimes with candles. I've been told that the best way to slow down a taxi or bus driver is to call out, "I'm going to vomit!" I'll work on that expression in Spanish tomorrow.