Tyron Woolfe: The barber in Mexico – 7 months on (with BSL)

Tyron has been sharing a number of reflective blogs on Limping Chicken about the people he met and what he learned in Latin America. Tyron has been travelling Latin America and has just returned from 7 months away. Look out for his final blog soon.

I remember laying my eyes on you, you were so short, you had very dark skin and thick brown hair.

You looked tired and ragged in your little barber shop. It was as if you had passed retirement age without realising it. You were wearing a shirt and black trousers, your shirt looked so worn out it would be a little unforgivable to describe it as white.

Watch Tyron sign his article below:

Pictures of you as a young barber winning prizes hung on the wall next to a few old mirrors and yet it was as if your career did not continue to grow successfully. Your shop looked so tired, old, and you were clearly living in the back of the shop.

The light was so dull, as if the electricity had gone off so often. Different pieces of barber cutting equipment could be seen resting in various places, looking unused for a long time.

A dull looking fish-tank stood over old magazines, with just one goldfish going to and fro each side, so slowly. There was no air supply, the glass had limescale that had developed over the years.

The rain and thunder kept coming down heavy and there I was, stood there with my enormous rucksack and small one too. I was lost, I was afraid and I knew no Spanish to be able to explain to you that I had no way of contacting my friend because my mobile phone had no reception.

I tried to show you a video my friend had made with instructions on how to get to his place but it was filmed during the day, and it was now fully dark, pouring with rain and claps of thunder and lightning.

I didn’t have a clue how to explain my predicament to you. I tried to gesture but it was no use. You kept looking outside as if you were looking for someone to help us both out but with no energy. There was no one about, just millions of rain drops and flooded puddles.

It was a long ten minutes, and then eventually this middle-aged guy came out of his car and joined us. He opened his modern mobile phone. I looked at him with pleading eyes, close to tears myself – it was my birthday and I had only just left my two very good friends in Las Vegas after 3 brilliant weeks.

I tried to gesture to this kind guy, that I needed to video chat my deaf friend in Mexico and that my phone had no reception. I wanted to insert my friend’s number into his phone and then call him on video.

As if something had triggered his understanding, he passed his phone to me and I heaved such a sigh of relief. I struggled to add my friend’s number in as the phone was totally set up in Spanish. We got there eventually, and pressed the video call icon to such relief.

The animated conversation in sign language must have really surprised you, Mr Barber. I remember thinking that maybe it was then that it finally made sense to you I was trying to ask you?

Within 15 minutes I got picked up by my friend with an umbrella in tow. I turned to you, Mr Barber, and acknowledged how your shop had been such a temporary shelter for me, it was so kind of you to let me walk in, dripping wet. I wondered what you made of the whole thing from your corner, whether you felt you’d done a good turn or you felt humbled but didn’t really understand what you had done for me and my sanity.

I remember wondering how long it would be before you closed the shop window and door, all framed in worn blue tainted wood with lots of rainwater dripping away. I wondered if you would even bother to put everything away before going to sleep, or if this was now a pointless task, a daily ritual that had eroded away.

Although my friend and I had gestured to you, gratefully, that we would come to your shop for a cut and shave, we all knew deep down it wouldn’t really happen.

Looking back at this first day as a solo traveller in Mexico City, I remember how I thought to myself that I had made a huge mistake, that it was going to be a very long and hard journey for me. I remember texting with a few friends and feeling anxious about forward travel plans; I didn’t have that much planned ahead. I was waiting to hear about voluntary work in Bolivia.

I remember strongly how it poured down with rain that day and how I didn’t have any waterproof jacket. My parents had given me one and I had left it behind. It was a very emotional night at my Mexican friend’s house, I found myself lying on an old mattress on the floor.

The home was going through renovation works. I remember texting my buddies, and how reassuring they were, telling me things would brighten up the next day. It was so difficult, I knew I had wanted to go travel Latin America but I had not expected my first day to be like this.

I was so lucky, the next day was a bright sunny day and my host invited several friends around for a belated birthday party with some gorgeous cake and wonderful Micheladas.

The next few weeks would then be amazing, discovering various places across Mexico via friends of my host, I totally loved it.

I do think it was unfortunate that my first day was so emotional and on my birthday too, but sometimes people have to have down days to appreciate their up days!! And whenever I had a down day whilst travelling over Latin America, I would always remind myself of how it was on my first day, and how depressing I felt Mr Barber of Mexico’s life was.

Look out for Tyron’s final blog soon!

Tyron is in his early 40s and loves a good laugh and cuddle with friends and family. He has worked for over 20 years with deaf children and young people. He is keeping an eye out for his next career move whilst travelling. His travel writing focuses on the people he has met whilst travelling rather than about the places he has seen.