I’ve been thinking about hair . . . again! You see, our trip to Australia has been a long one. All in all, from beginning to end, I’ll be here for 14 days. While I wouldn’t normally fuss with my hair while traveling, I’ve HAD to this time. Between the 7 sessions I taught over the course of last weekend and the jogging I’ve tried to get in on a few mornings, my hair has frizzed into a curly afro. So I’ve had no choice but try retwist it so I could regain my spiral curls for the coming weekend’s festivities.
A quick look back at our last two hair discussions here, and here, will catch you up to speed on the conversations we’ve already had about hair around here.
I’m sure I’ve already mentioned how intense a project twisting my own hair is. Between the detangling, shampooing, conditioning and all around upkeep of my thick, coarse springy coils, I’m looking at an all day project. I rarely twist it myself these days. I can’t. With three boys to manage, I can’t sit for hours on end with my hands covered in moisturizing cream and gel while I coil two pieces of hair around each other into little twists that will cover my entire head. My sons would make sure that never happened. Then I’d be walking around with a few rows of twists in the back and the rest of my hair standing up on end as if I put my hand in an electric socket!
We can’t have that, can we?
On my way out into the packed Australian city streets to find some shampoo and conditioner that would suit me (the hotel kind is too drying on my hair), I walked into a couple Aussie Salons just ‘cause I was curious. The stylists looked at my hair . . . and just stared blankly. I felt like a science project. It was hilarious. I turned on my heels and walked out, knowing full well their hands would be lost forever in the jungle atop my scalp.
I found a drug store with an extensive hair care supply and searched up and down for the “ethnic hair care” section. You know, like the one you can find at WalMart in the US. When I canvased the final aisle with nothing remotely ethnic in sight, I went back to the first aisle and began again. There had to be something here, amidst the gels and color treatments and sprays, that would give me what I needed to be able to comb through this mop with success.
Indeed there was. I stumbled upon Redken and found their Real Control Shampoo and Conditioner, which promised moisture and manageability. Then saw this label on another – Smooth Down Detangling Cream. BINGO.Exactly what I needed: smoothing and detangling. I walked back to my hotel room fully expecting not to emerge again until the next day.
I washed, conditioned, and was extremely pleased with the results.
I might buy this stuff when I get back to the States! Then I combed out my mane, put it in four big plates to air dry for a while before drying it with a hand dryer on a cool setting (better for your hair). Then I sat in the bed, ordered a movie and started twisting.
My Aussie friends, who were out shopping and sharing latte’s, kept calling to see when/if I could join them. I had to keep putting them off. I was afraid they’d think I was being anti-social, but there’s just no way my “peach” friends could comprehend the “all-dayness” of a project like this one: the full, complete concentration for endless hours that this ethnic hair of mine would require.
So, they played and I did hair.
I didn’t mind. It was actually enjoyable and . . . it was a necessity. I don’t want anyone to be scared when I take the platform at the Hillsong Colour Conference on Friday night.
Priscilla
