My first week in Hangzhou. It is an early spring afternoon and raining. I'm nervous as I walk in Nandu Street. Tomorrow will be my first day teaching at Zhejiang University. I'm unsure where I'm supposed to get the bus the next morning and less certain how I will get back to the apartment. The campus is about an hour away. Today it feels like a trip to the moon.

On Wen'er Lu, I decide to get some hair therapy for my nerves. I turn into a nearby salon, one of a chain touting French hair products. The receptionist greets me with a hearty "Good morning."

I survey the place. I eye one fellow whose client is practically purring. I glimpse another doing a blow dry I like too. His long hair is tied up into a sort of Taoist topknot. But another young man comes to my chair. He points to the more expensive shampoo. I nod yes. I have no idea why it's more expensive; my Chinese isn't nearly good enough to ask.

It is a mystery to me how anyone can pour water out of a bottle onto my head and shampoo and nothing dribbles down my back or neck. But I love it. I get rinsed. He swaddles my head in a towel and tucks the ends neatly. He motions to clean my ears and I nod again.

Blow dry time. The Taoist is busy. I get a skinny guy who for some reason reminds me of a snake. I motion I want my hair dried straight. He has barely started when he begins to make little frowns at my hair and at me. My hair looks fine, maybe a little dry, I think.

He brings me a book with big prices on it that I can't read. I say no. He shows me a picture of a beautiful woman with sleek, straight, glossy hair. I say no. He brings me another book with a price that is 50 yuan ($7.32) or so cheaper. He holds a lock of my hair and looks forlorn. I say okay.

I am moved to a quieter part of the salon. A young man with Jay Chou hair and an MP3 player takes out a blue bottle, pours white goo into a cup and puts on rubber gloves. The rubber gloves scare me. This part of the salon scares me.

Across from me, the woman who sweeps up the floors has a blank, but curious expression. She sits down to watch. I muster a weak smile. Jay Chou begins to paint my hair. It smells awful. It occurs to me, too late, that this isn't conditioner but probably a hair straightener.

They wrap my head in plastic wrap and a machine with a metal halo that moves in a dizzying ellipsis blows heat on me. I feel strange. I am clutching the arms of the chair. I try to relax my fingers. My knuckles hurt.

I am rinsed. I know something is wrong. Jay Chou can't get his fingers out of my hair. He applies no shampoo, just tries to get the goo and his fingers out of my hair. My head feels heavy. Jay Chou is very quiet.

Back to my chair. I look in the mirror. My hair is not straight. It has shriveled into a massive hair ball. I pull out one frazzled lock and grimace. Jay Chou brings out another tool, a heated paddle. My heart races. Electric heat on my fried hair? I feel faint.

Suddenly the Taoist arrives. He looks thoughtful; he takes out his dryer and begins to work. He is gentle; he is working very hard. He is making progress. Then the Snake appears.

I point to him and make an angry face. The Taoist quietly works on my hair. Jay Chou, who applied the goo, looks down at the floor.

The Snake takes over, yet another tool appears. Scissors. He starts to cut the crispy hair. I sniffle. The clean up lady catches my eye; she's eating her dinner. Then Jay Chou is back--with another blue bottle. I panic and wave my arms. The Snake tries to tell me it's one and two, two parts to the treatment.

I shake my head. I point to the first blue bottle and say bu hao, not good! He tries to reassure me. The cleaning lady looks at me but offers no help. I finally nod okay.

I get a second coating. A wash. My hair feels stiff, but better. It is several inches shorter. The Snake finishes.

I pay 258 yuan ($37.77). The Snake, cheerful now, shows me his badge number. I'm to come back on Wednesday for another xi tou, hair wash. I blanch, grab my receipt and umbrella and escape into the rainy Hangzhou night.

The author is an American living in Hangzhou