Is silence really golden?

Yesterday I took my daughter to the hairdressers in Heidelberg. It wasn’t the first time she’s had her hair cut – she has already been in Spain twice and in Scotland once – not to mention the crooked attempts at fringe-trimming that I have made. All experiences so far have been successful in the sense that she always leaves with a hair trim of some sort, but on all three occasions, she certainly made life extremely difficult for the poor unsuspecting hairdresser. Last time in Scotland, for example, she wriggled in the chair, shook her head and screamed her head off until the whole experience was over. The 5 minute trim felt like a lifetime to me, but luckily they were very understanding, kind to her and still managed to get the job done.

Nevertheless, I knew I couldn’t really put off having her hair cut for any longer, and yesterday I was feeling brave, so I picked up the phone to make an appointment at the nearest hairdressers. I found a hairdressers that cut children’s hair (with my flat-hunting experience fresh in my mind I was half expecting the response, “no, we are a child-free hairdressers.”) and that cost 16 Euros. A bit steep, I thought (in Spain they did it for free and in the UK for 5 pounds), but I’ll give it a go.

Going to the hairdresser in any country involves a certain amount of risk and trying to explain what you want done in foreign language even more so.  I admit that I also have a going-to-the-hairdresser-in-Germany-phobia and I still always get my haircut at a salon in Glasgow. Partly because I have never been entirely happy with the result here and partly because the whole hairdressing experience there is more enjoyable than here; I get a welcome drink, a free head massage, friendly staff and friendly chit chat.

Yesterday I walked into a completely silent hairdressers; the only noise being the hum of the hairdryer and the only interaction I got was when I explained what I wanted done. There were 2 other clients having their hair done in complete silence and no music playing in the background to hide the fact. The man who cut my daughter’s hair didn’t utter a word during the whole haircut; not a word of encouragement to her, he didn’t ask me her name, how old she is; there was absolutely no attempt at any kind of small talk. My daughter was also clearly stunned into silence, because by some miracle, she sat quietly in the chair for 15 minutes and only slightly grimaced when the hairdresser sprayed her hair wet and brought out the dreaded hairdryer.

Now, I don’t like it when a hairdresser asks too many questions either or if they start telling me their life story, but complete silence in a social situation makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable. Strike up a conversation for goodness sake; break the ice! Germans famously don’t waste any time on small talk. It is almost as if there is almost some kind of unspoken rule that it’s either a proper, serious, or meaningful talk or no talk at all; especially not with strangers in hairdressers.