His name is Yacha, from Uzbekistan. He doesn't have business cards, does not accept appointments, does not do perms, and does not speak much English. Not big on the small talk either.
"So Yacha," I say, "what's with all the clocks?"
"The clocks, I like."
He has a full moustache, black and sinister, that's fitting for a Russian guard. Or a spy. Hidden in the back of a fruit market, charging $6 for a haircut—the perfect cover! Yes, my barber is a Russian spy.
"You're from Uzbekistan," I say, probing for more information. "Were you a barber there?"
He shoots me a stiff look through the mirror. "Short or trim?"
A warning: Yacha is a styling genius. His tonsorial skills are unrivaled. Which means, of course, he's a bit stubborn. So don't try haggling the cut you want. Grip the chair, and trust him. Every day except Sunday, from 11 to 5.
Yacha is a great barber! I came in from a fresh shower and uncombed hair. I say "I comb it back." Yacha say "how?" I knew he did not speak much English and so I had my photo id ready. I showed him. "Hmm, rounded eh?" I say "Yeah." When it came time to cut the top, he took blew my hair back with his hair dryer to see the lay. When he finished, it was the best hair cut I have ever had. Don't go if you want conversation. 2010 and the hair cut was only $10.00.
