The week prior had been especially trying (as most people justify in their minds that their week is harder and more difficult than anyone else's ever) since work had really just worn me out. The constant traveling and heat, coupled with there always being people everywhere always was just enough to make me want to start stabbing myself in the eye with anything that came into view. This would probably unsuccessful since I see a lot of rice and noodles.
Friday progressed as usual; work was finished and Jake and I decided to venture to the store to replenish our juice supply before the weekend. Walking around the packed Wal-Mart, Jake had, what I could call an, "I'm not dealing with this anymore," moment.
"We're getting massages." he said. The week had done him in as well, enough that he needed another human to rub his body and then he would pay them. With that, he pulled out his phone and called one of our friends to help us set up an appointment for later that night. I've never had a massage before, I thought to myself. Please don't let things get weird.
A couple hours later, we were entering a large building that was neighbor to a, for lack of better words, pseudo-hooker palace. Jake had informed me that this was a Thai massage parlor and that our friend Nicholas would meet us there.
Upon arrival, the staff gave us black rubber sandals that had been warmed, as if by putting them inside a microwave and hitting the popcorn setting. This was surprisingly comfortable as I was escorted into the room where we would be receiving our massages. After the staff opened the door, three beds lay in front of me each with crisp white sheets and two large pillows that appeared incredibly soft like clouds unaffected by the Chinese pollution. We were instructed to take a seat and relax (which is a word that I've learned is a staple in Chinese culture) until the staff returned and dropped off on each of our beds a small plastic bag. The bags were clear and inside I could see the contents consisted of what looked to be an outfit.
"Change!" our friend Nicholas urged. We opened the bags and discarded the wrapping and unfolded a pair of blue shorts and blue shirt. Both were embroidered with gold vine-like designs that wrapped up and down the fabric in a way that suggested they were royal. The shorts and shirt themselves resembled what would closely resemble a pair of pajamas a middle aged man had obtained in his early teens and had decided to keep despite the fact they began to climb up his body.
I quickly slipped into my new outfit and resumed my seat on the bed when three masseuses entered the room. My first initial thought was that we had ordered the wrong kind of massage due to how these women were dressed. Each girl was wearing a dress that resembled a flight attendants uniform. Though, these flight attendants were most likely starring in an adult film. The blue fabric clung close to their body as the neckline dove down to areas unknown. The hem ventured into the area that most would describe as "swimsuit" zone and this only made me convinced that I might be seeing more of her than she would of me (not that I wanted to be naked in front of a masseuse).
Not speaking any Chinese to understand, the girl motioned for me to lay on my stomach while she plopped the pillow down at the foot of the bed and began to rub my back.
"Nicholas, do they offer any other services here, like having your feet cleaned?" Jake asked, motioning towards his well-trodden feet, covered in the days dirt.
"Oh yes, yes! Would you like them to do that now?" Without hesitation, Nicholas proceeded to speak to the girls in Chinese as they left the room to prepare to take care of our feet.
"Well, we don't have to today..." Jake said, "I was just wondering if they did. But I guess now is good too."
The three returned with buckets full of scalding hot water and motioned for us to dunk our feet in. I looked down at the bucket in front of my bed and saw the steam radiating upwards and knew this wasn't going to be without pain. Not wanting to be "that guy" that takes his sweet time to actually take the dive into the pool, I plunged my feet into the water and silently screamed in my head. I wasn't exactly sure how to deal with this pain and the only thing around me to distract myself with was the television that was blaring the Chinese version of the popular TV show, "The Voice." I had to surmise that everyone that entered into this competition had surprisingly sad back-stories, like severe anal bleeding as a child or a cruel encounter with a wombat, and that gave them a certain star appeal. It was certainly enough appeal that our masseuses paid more attention to the screen than they did to our feet.
After pulling my feet out of the water, the masseuse gently rubbed my feet,which I will admit felt rather good. Other than the occasional urge to laugh when she trickled her fingernails down the arch of my foot, she did a nice job.
"What services would you like to receive?" Nicholas chimed in from his neighbor bed. We were to be given three out of five services that night: A foot scraping (that Jake was currently participating in), a facial scrub, a hand treatment, an ear cleaning, or an eyelid cleaning. As enticing as it was to have someone stick their fingers into my ears or near my eyeballs, I opted for feet, face, and hands.
With a quick jump, the masseuse and her small dress were now on my bed and she had rested the fluffy pillow onto her lap. She sat cross-legged and motioned for me to lay down my head, basically right in between her thighs. Jake later mentioned that this was "the closest we had been to lady parts since birth." All the while I was having my face rubbed up and down, another man went to work on my feet. With a small headlamp that one might wear if they were going spelunking, the man took what looked to be some sort of dull razor and scraped away the dead skin on the bottom of my feet and between my toes. He looked to be some sort of explorer, searching beneath the crust of an ancient artifact, while I wriggled beneath a girl with her hands on my face as I stifled my laughter.
To add to my feet, the masseuses went out and brought in what appeared to be some sort of putty. "It's a mixture of ginger and crushed pearls." Nicholas told us. Pearls? Pearls? Huh, all of the sudden I was feeling like some kind of classy individual. That is, until my feet started to burn once they poured this mixture on. "Oh yes, it will start to burn your feet." Nicholas mentioned. Yes, yes it did. They had poured some sort of pearl concrete onto our feet where we sit and burn. I was starting to get the distinct impression that most Chinese medicine consisted of copious amounts of pain.
With my feet cleaned off, the real massage began. The masseuse hopped back up onto the bed and proceeded to set my legs on top of hers. This is the part of the massage I had actually been expecting, the part where a stranger rubs your body for an extended period of time and you tell yourself that everything feels better. Then I quickly reminded myself how Chinese medicine didn't work that way.
No sooner had she rubbed my legs had the masseuse moved onto my stomach. With force, she pressed both hands down hard into the area that would be where my bladder resides along with many other vital organs. I could only imagine the surprise of many other previous patrons that had experienced the same thing unprepared but with less bowel control. Oh, please let these sheets have been bleached...
"Would you like something to eat?" Nicholas chimed in through my stomach rub. Eating had been the last thing I had really expected after I had received a massage. Apparently, it was customary to try and include everything you could into one large package. I wonder if they also included dinner theatre? No, I think the farthest they would probably go is to include someone punching you in the spleen to deal with digestive health; as Chinese medicine does.
"Change!" our friend Nicholas urged. We opened the bags and discarded the wrapping and unfolded a pair of blue shorts and blue shirt. Both were embroidered with gold vine-like designs that wrapped up and down the fabric in a way that suggested they were royal. The shorts and shirt themselves resembled what would closely resemble a pair of pajamas a middle aged man had obtained in his early teens and had decided to keep despite the fact they began to climb up his body.
I quickly slipped into my new outfit and resumed my seat on the bed when three masseuses entered the room. My first initial thought was that we had ordered the wrong kind of massage due to how these women were dressed. Each girl was wearing a dress that resembled a flight attendants uniform. Though, these flight attendants were most likely starring in an adult film. The blue fabric clung close to their body as the neckline dove down to areas unknown. The hem ventured into the area that most would describe as "swimsuit" zone and this only made me convinced that I might be seeing more of her than she would of me (not that I wanted to be naked in front of a masseuse).
 |
| "Chinese medicine!...for your kidneys." |
Not speaking any Chinese to understand, the girl motioned for me to lay on my stomach while she plopped the pillow down at the foot of the bed and began to rub my back.
"Nicholas, do they offer any other services here, like having your feet cleaned?" Jake asked, motioning towards his well-trodden feet, covered in the days dirt.
"Oh yes, yes! Would you like them to do that now?" Without hesitation, Nicholas proceeded to speak to the girls in Chinese as they left the room to prepare to take care of our feet.
"Well, we don't have to today..." Jake said, "I was just wondering if they did. But I guess now is good too."
The three returned with buckets full of scalding hot water and motioned for us to dunk our feet in. I looked down at the bucket in front of my bed and saw the steam radiating upwards and knew this wasn't going to be without pain. Not wanting to be "that guy" that takes his sweet time to actually take the dive into the pool, I plunged my feet into the water and silently screamed in my head. I wasn't exactly sure how to deal with this pain and the only thing around me to distract myself with was the television that was blaring the Chinese version of the popular TV show, "The Voice." I had to surmise that everyone that entered into this competition had surprisingly sad back-stories, like severe anal bleeding as a child or a cruel encounter with a wombat, and that gave them a certain star appeal. It was certainly enough appeal that our masseuses paid more attention to the screen than they did to our feet.
After pulling my feet out of the water, the masseuse gently rubbed my feet,which I will admit felt rather good. Other than the occasional urge to laugh when she trickled her fingernails down the arch of my foot, she did a nice job.
"What services would you like to receive?" Nicholas chimed in from his neighbor bed. We were to be given three out of five services that night: A foot scraping (that Jake was currently participating in), a facial scrub, a hand treatment, an ear cleaning, or an eyelid cleaning. As enticing as it was to have someone stick their fingers into my ears or near my eyeballs, I opted for feet, face, and hands.
With a quick jump, the masseuse and her small dress were now on my bed and she had rested the fluffy pillow onto her lap. She sat cross-legged and motioned for me to lay down my head, basically right in between her thighs. Jake later mentioned that this was "the closest we had been to lady parts since birth." All the while I was having my face rubbed up and down, another man went to work on my feet. With a small headlamp that one might wear if they were going spelunking, the man took what looked to be some sort of dull razor and scraped away the dead skin on the bottom of my feet and between my toes. He looked to be some sort of explorer, searching beneath the crust of an ancient artifact, while I wriggled beneath a girl with her hands on my face as I stifled my laughter.
To add to my feet, the masseuses went out and brought in what appeared to be some sort of putty. "It's a mixture of ginger and crushed pearls." Nicholas told us. Pearls? Pearls? Huh, all of the sudden I was feeling like some kind of classy individual. That is, until my feet started to burn once they poured this mixture on. "Oh yes, it will start to burn your feet." Nicholas mentioned. Yes, yes it did. They had poured some sort of pearl concrete onto our feet where we sit and burn. I was starting to get the distinct impression that most Chinese medicine consisted of copious amounts of pain.
With my feet cleaned off, the real massage began. The masseuse hopped back up onto the bed and proceeded to set my legs on top of hers. This is the part of the massage I had actually been expecting, the part where a stranger rubs your body for an extended period of time and you tell yourself that everything feels better. Then I quickly reminded myself how Chinese medicine didn't work that way.
No sooner had she rubbed my legs had the masseuse moved onto my stomach. With force, she pressed both hands down hard into the area that would be where my bladder resides along with many other vital organs. I could only imagine the surprise of many other previous patrons that had experienced the same thing unprepared but with less bowel control. Oh, please let these sheets have been bleached...
"Would you like something to eat?" Nicholas chimed in through my stomach rub. Eating had been the last thing I had really expected after I had received a massage. Apparently, it was customary to try and include everything you could into one large package. I wonder if they also included dinner theatre? No, I think the farthest they would probably go is to include someone punching you in the spleen to deal with digestive health; as Chinese medicine does.
