The Universe has spoken

So on my second day here in Sevilla, I was taking a walk down La Virgen de Africa (which oddly enough is across the street from La Virgen de Fatima). And on my stroll as one does here, I came across a Black Barbershop.

The metrical clouds had parted, the choir of angles proclaimed and I had found my barber. Mind you, the shop was closed, and there were no hours on the door, but I knew it would be open and I would be able to get a cut.

Aside, back in 1984, maybe, mom and I had moved to a new neighborhood, and she was looking for a barber for me. I still remember and know where that barbershop was and who owned it (more on that later). Anyway, I don’t recall if I heard it or if mom told me later, but the barber said he didn’t know how to cut black hair… I mean hair is hair, no? Anyway, I think mom convinced him to cut my hair, and that was that.  I found out later that the barber was the father of one of my classmates in school…. Small world. Because of that, I think I’ve always wanted a barbershop where I felt welcomed and appreciated. Hence my need to find a Black barber wherever I find myself.

So I managed to stop by the barbershop a week or ago and asked about the price of a haircut, €12 if you are wondering. I send a WhatsApp message, and stop by yesterday to make an appointment.

And today, I got my haircut. The Barber, is Colombian, and I will see him in about 3-4 weeks.

More importantly, I love how the shop is named Bro Barbershop, I’m just sayin…