Getting a haircut has been sitting on my to-do list all week. It has been just over eight weeks since my last one, and the usual signs have started to appear. My head starts looking flatter as the hair grows thick around the sides while the top refuses to keep up. My sideburns begin curling naturally after a couple of centimetres. And, of course, there’s the general discomfort of walking around with a full head of hair in 30+ degree heat and high humidity.

George Town certainly doesn’t disappoint when it comes to barbers. You can get anything from a cheap buzz cut to a full luxury grooming experience where every hair on your head and face is treated with care. After asking around, doing some Googling and walking past a number of salons, I decide to give the highly rated—but very busy—barber a try. I stop by and am told to come back two hours later. Perfect. Time for a haircut.

When I return, I happen to run into a couple from the hostel. The barbershop immediately earns a few bonus points for containing familiar faces. On top of that, they have just given the long-haired hippie sitting in the chair a transformation worthy of a lion’s mane.

After a bit of sweeping up, it’s my turn. The words “Same as usual” are right on the tip of my tongue. I manage to stop myself and instead explain that we’re getting rid of eight weeks’ worth of hair. “Fade?” the barber asks. “Yes,” I reply, while thinking, Go ahead and tell my fortune.

My barber is a young Chinese man. He cuts my hair almost at arm’s length. He studies it the way a painter steps back from a canvas every so often to judge the whole composition. It creates a slightly odd dynamic where it almost feels as though my head is being sculpted while I sit there watching the process unfold in the mirror. A bit of an out-of-body experience. We chat a little, but for the most part I simply let my thoughts wander in silence while he concentrates on his work.

Suddenly he asks whether I’d like my hair washed. I make eye contact with myself in the mirror and realise the haircut is already finished. My sides have been faded. It’s not a style I’ve worn very often, but it actually looks quite good. “Yes, please,” I mumble, before another thought strikes me: Washed? Isn’t that something you’re supposed to do before the haircut?

I am then led into a back room. What I thought was a small barber with two chairs turns out to be a much larger operation with five or six customers in the middle of various long-term projects involving colouring, perms and the like. I settle into a wash basin exactly like the ones back home in Denmark. Just as I’m thinking that everything feels familiar again, I notice someone has started giving me a scalp massage. Then comes a neck massage. The question “Did I actually pay for this?” briefly pops into my head before being quickly dismissed in favour of simply enjoying the massage.

My head is wrapped in a towel, and I’m escorted back to my chair wearing what is essentially a damp turban. To be fair, there isn’t much hair left to dry after the haircut, especially compared to the people having only a little taken off their long hair. I sit down and the towel comes off. Before I know it, someone places a tray in front of me with a steaming hot rolled-up towel on it. It’s for my face and neck. My first thought is, “Alright, calm down. I’m not that dirty.” But after wiping my face and seeing just how many tiny hairs end up in the towel, I find myself wondering, “Why don’t we do this back home?”

Just as I’m thinking that the only thing missing now is hair wax, a transparent glass bottle with a spray nozzle appears. Spray, spray, spray, and suddenly I’m wearing perfume as well. Then comes the hair wax, which, together with the perfume, leaves me not only looking freshly groomed but somehow smelling freshly groomed as well. We finish everything off with a complimentary bottle of water while I sit there recovering from the whole experience.

There is only one thought left in my head now. At no point have I seen a price list. Between the haircut, the wash, the massages and all the products, I genuinely have no idea what costs extra and what is simply included as part of the service. I am not particularly worried. The couple from Ecuador were hardly wealthy luxury travellers, so whatever the price turned out to be, I knew it would probably be reasonable.

The bill came to RM 50, roughly 80 Danish kroner. Could I have had my hair cut for 30 Danish kroner instead? Absolutely. But I have to admit it was an efficient and genuinely enjoyable haircut, and all the little extras left me feeling like royalty. That has its appeal too.

Want to support the journey? Read more here.