Living the typical post-college broke life, just thousands of miles from home.

This week was a big deal because I actually went to a salon to get my hair cut. In my broke, post-college, forced-to-be-a-hipster life these days, paying for a haircut has not been high on the priority list. The last time I got it cut, I had a Romanian guy living at the same hostel as me cut it for free. That might sound sketch, but he did a good job. 

But then I moved out and my hair kept growing into a shaggy mess that reminded me of an eight-year old boy's bowl cut. So my friend Sandy was kind enough to take me to a salon that was in my price range. Other places had wanted one hundred pounds (about $15) but we got it done for thirty pounds (about $5). Way more reasonable, for the budget of an ex-preschool teacher. This guy also did a good job.

Looking for deals and cutting corners when I can seems to be my style these days. I mean, we're supposed to be broke after college, right? Maybe it was a little ambitious for me to tackle this stage of my life in a foreign country...

But I find ways to make it work. Like by mastering public transportation. The metro and I are like this (insert crossed fingers to illustrate closeness here). I adore it. A straightforward system that can get me across the city while avoiding traffic? For the price of one pound? (About fourteen cents). That thing is my best friend.

When I moved into an apartment by myself and everyone thought I was crazy, I told a friend "I would rather eat koshari every day than live with someone right now." Well, now I have to eat my words. Literally. I'm essentially living off of koshari and goodwill right now. Good thing the cheap, convenient Egyptian pasta tastes good. At least for now. After I live off of it for another month, I might change my mind. 

My forced "hipsterness" is at it's highest when hanging out with my friends at the cafe. I'll be wearing my grey sneakers with neon laces that don't match anything, with a rip on the side, because they are my warm shoes. Comfort over style. My nails are half painted, because nail polish remover did not make it into the budget. And there's my skater style hat I bought from a stand on the street for twenty pounds. I don't think my clothes came from a thrift store, but they might as well have for how worn out they look now. Whatever. When we order hookah, I order maasal, a very, very Egyptian tobacco. Simply because it's the cheapest, and I love the reaction from the server, because how odd for a foreign white girl to be smoking maasal. Hey, if I save seven pounds on my order, that's seven metro rides. And that's how my brain works these days.

But as tough as it is now, I still love it. Who needs comfort? (At least for the next nineteen and a half days until I get my paycheck from my new job, but who's counting?)

The positive side of being broke is, I never have to worry that my friends are my friends because of my money. (Might as well count my blessings, because counting my pounds doesn't take me long...) And I'm just glad I have friends who are understanding of my life right now, because that's worth everything :)