After close to eight months of isolating, I was psyched to finally get a haircut yesterday. However, my rare trip into the city left me at a loss.... and I mean a real loss. My usual peluquero, a Oaxacan institution, had been closed for months. I had checked the last time I was in, but at least there was a phone number to call. Now, his place is still closed and it has a feeling of finality.
My other barbero, a backup, was Sir Pepe, who I saw all the time and spoke with regularly. He ribbed me the last time saying, "It's time, don't you think?"
I agreed and said I would be back if the other was still closed. Well, by the time I returned, a few weeks later.... he was gone, too. I know it may sound strange, but some of my fondest memories of Oaxaca are getting my haircut by a master and listening to classic vocal trios from the early days. Often, not a word was spoken. It was sublime.
And, he made my day when he said he had seen the blog posts about him. I hope they are both well and enjoying life. I miss them both.
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