Getting Your Hair Cut When You Can’t Speak Serbian

June 18, 2009 by Darren Alff

This is how long my hair was before getting it cut today in Montenegro.
My previous haircut took place in Germany more than 3 months ago.

It’s been more than three months since I had my last haircut. And my hair, well… is really, really long.

So today, I set off into the streets of Montenegro to find a hair salon and get my hair CUT!

In downtown Tivat, where a small row of shops line the street and cars park at sharp angels (occasionally on the sidewalk), I spotted a sign for the “trizerski salon”. A girl in a bright yellow tank-top, eating from a bowl filled with noodles and meat was sitting outside the door and I motioned to her, asking if she worked inside the salon.

“Nie” she said, shaking her head and returning to her lunch.

I stepped inside the door where another young woman in a bright blue tank-top and skin hugging black pants was busy at work with an older gentleman who was having his beard trimmed.

Again, I motioned to the woman, asking if she could cut my hair.

She put down her clippers and called to the girl in yellow out on the street.

Placing her bowl of meat and noodles down on a small table in front of her, the girl in yellow stepped inside and told me to sit in a chair in the middle of the room.

The shop was cluttered, with only three trimming stations and puke green walls, which likely hadn’t been painted in decades. Popular English songs blared from the radio and besides the older gentleman getting his beard cut down to size, I was the only customer in the place.

Not being able to speak Serbian, I used my best sign language to tell the girl in yellow that I wanted my hair buzzed. I moved my hand across my head in a back and forth motion and made the sound a pair of hair clippers usually makes. ”Bzzzzzzzzzz…”

The girls look at each other and laughed.

Then, the one in yellow reached for a cell phone that was sitting on the counter in front of me and dialed a number. She said a few words into the phone and then held the speaker up to my ear.

“Say me about your hair” demanded a deep voice on the other end of the line.

I assumed he wanted to know how I wished to have my hair cut, so I explained to him that I wanted it buzzed all the way around with the longest setting possible. (With my lack of knowledge in Serbian and my hair cutters lack of English abilities, I assumed getting my hair buzzed would be the easiest style to ask for and explain.)

The voice on the other end of the phone said he understood what I wanted and I passed the phone back to the girl in yellow. The girl spoke to the voice on the other end of the line for just a few seconds before hanging up and pulling out her clippers.

The woman in the blue tank-top, who was skill working on the man with the beard to my left, reached into a drawer and pulled out the clipper heads I would need for my trimming. The girl in yellow applied a black, plastic, size 5 clip to the front of the razor and then the woman in blue hacked off a large chunk of hair on the side of my head with the electronic buzzer. She then grabbed the hair still attached to my head and motioned to me, asking in a way, if this was short enough. I indicated that it was.

Then, for the next 20 minutes or so, the girl in yellow worked with a pair of old, tired clippers to cut and trim my head into shape.

I asked the girl if she spoke any English, but she only smiled and laughed. I wanted to tell her about my bike trip and explain to her that I was cycling my way from Switzerland to Greece, but she couldn’t understand a thing I was saying. I asked her if she spoke German, but that too was a no-go. So I just sat there, smiling every once in a while, letting her know that she was on the right track.

After nearly a half-hour of clipping, my cut was complete. And boy did I look different! But it sure felt good to be rid of all that hair.

In the end, the cut cost just 6 Euros, but I tipped the gal an extra three and left as quickly as I had come, returning to the streets and on to my next international adventure.

The exterior of the hair salon where I got my hair cut in Tivat, Montenegro