Matchmaker from the Byward Market

Just around the corner from where I live in Ottawa, at the heart of the Byward Market, in the middle of downtown’s strip full of bars and restaurants, where the only hustling and bustling happens of the small governmental capital of Canada, lies a hair salon named Niccio. The owners of the business have been buddies with my brothers since my brothers’ arrival to Canada-almost 10 years ago. It surprised me that both my brothers and I have a common trait in our selection of good friends- our hair stylists. And to a sudden surprise and by mere coincidence, they are both Lebanese. The only difference is that my hair stylist, whom I trust almost with my life and not just my hair, is in Egypt. Maybe the common trait in hair stylists around the world is that they are good listeners and that they value trust-because the integrity of their profession is based on the client’s trust they put in them for taste in color, cut, style and service. And I think they are good listeners because before, while and after the mission of the requested color, style, or blow-dry is that they just listen. They carefully listen and politely advise, sharing their opinion in respect of the person in front of them and within their expertise. I must also say that they are very patient.  They may never get the end of it if and when something goes wrong to the client’s hair; they respectfully know how to handle the situation. So bringing it all into perspective, hair professionals make good friends.

I heard so much about Chad and his brother George (the hair stylist and hair color specialist, respectively). I heard of the strong bonded friendship, the good old days, the crazy ones too over the past decade from my brothers. They weren’t the first ones I met when I came in town because I was surely going to see them one day for one of my hair appointments. And that’s exactly when I met Chad, a small sized good looking 30 plus guy, who doesn’t at all seem to be of that age. He warmly welcomed me to Canada and his salon just as I was gestured into the salon. All went well and I left satisfied from the friendly conversation and my hair. He mentioned his brother works with him but we didn’t have a chance to be introduced.

Weeks later, on one bright and sunny day, as I was sipping coffee on a patio near home, my brothers suddenly ran into someone’s arms. All of them hugging and greeting one another- I assumed, it’s just another friend out of the couple of dozen they have in town. When they finally introduced me to their friend, I discovered this was George, Chad’s brother. He was with his wife and I subtly greeted both of them. I wasn’t carrying my 24/7 smiling face; I just firmly smirked and confidently shook hands. Unlike with Chad, there were absolutely no words exchanged and maybe no chance in conversing. We all went back to what we were doing a few minutes later and George was just another acquaintance-one more added to the list of people I was getting introduced to from my brothers’ circle of friends.  

I made an appointment one day to go fix my hair color and get myself a trim. Both Chad and George would eventually work on my hair. Welcomed with kisses and coffee Chad seated me until my turn comes with George. I was asked what would I like to do with my hair and as I explained I found myself interrupted. George jokingly shut me out and said, “I love your hair and the color you have now, but I want you to make a statement-when you go out on those streets, I want your hair to tell the world, ‘Hello I am here!’"

The colors on my face turned into the mixing shades of a rainbow and I don’t know how I was able to keep my mouth shut, but those eyes stood out in shocking surprise. I advised to not play much with my hair because he would never ever get the end of my constant complaining. We finally agreed on trying a new color. The next two hours were the most interesting in my life's experience in a hair salon. I have discovered the mastery of interruption- consistently being interrupted by George was an exciting new fact to me. We exchanged jokes, ideas, feelings about many and various subjects. I guess deciding on the color broke the ice between us. The first time we met, we didn’t have much to say and not much time to really start saying anything. The first time we met, George thought to himself, “this girl is a snob.” Once I heard this coming out from him, I gulped a few times. It was the first time anyone would think or even say that to me.  I then couldn’t stop laughing. As fast as we bonded and indulged into our conversations, I knew that he quickly and mistakenly judged me. He even told me, “that day we met, you barely made an effort to speak or look at my wife and me. It was like you were waiting for us to leave. But who are you today? This super relaxed girl who talks about everything, you are different than your brothers for sure, and I must say you are one interesting girl. You’re single, right? Then I will hook you up!”  I couldn’t stop blushing and laughing at the same time, eventually giving him an explanation as to why I was like that when we met.

After years of repetitively hearing, “Noura you are way too nice,” I decided that I will have to find a way to minimize the way too naïve person I am. I wasn’t going to become bitchy, but I had to start choosing the way I approached people. I couldn’t be nice all the time, but at the same time, I wasn’t going to change my nature. It just happened that on that day, to George’s luck, I would be the cold person I wanted to try to become. And I guess it worked. As a girl, an Arab (with expectations of behaving within certain limits), and on top of all that a new comer to a new country, I figured that I had to bring it down-try the new person I could become and reduce the wild and uncontrolled energy from high to low, actually fairly subtle. This is why I was classified as a snob the first time around.

The attempt in ‘hooking me up’ with George’s friend didn’t quite succeed. A young funny lad, that when we got introduced by an arranged "coincidence," we bonded on the level of humor and friendliness. I am glad that there were no messy, ugly, or hurtful feelings. The best thing about it was that we both stopped talking and no explanations were needed.  I mean, who would need an explanation when you only talk for two days through text messaging?!

As much as I strongly believe in not judging anyone generally in life, I found it very entertaining in discovering that I was judged twice. And I was told about both of them. I guess I am lucky.  It is unexpected for anyone to tell you their first impression about you and not everyone would reveal the judgment they made of you the second time around.