Massage Melange

I have a history with massages in Asia, and it's not a pretty one. You see, my first (and prior to this trip to Thailand, only) experience was in Xi'an, China. Several of the people with whom I was traveling (including my brother) had gotten massages, and they raved about it. They also told me that you a) keep your clothes on, and b) are in an open room with all of the massage-goers.

With that knowledge, my friend, Adam, and I went to the massage palace next to our hotel. Unfortunately for us, the menu was exclusively written in Chinese. In an attempt to make-do, we pointed at the massage option listed at our desired price-point, and the adventure began. We were directed upstairs and split up into two private rooms. Once inside our rooms, we were given satin pajamas into which to change. Sadly for me, the belt I was given to tie the top onto me was only about 8 inches long and (surprise, surprise) wouldn't wrap around my waist, so I did what I could to secure it, but decided to just hold it with my hand until someone could help me. At the time, I also had a money belt, and while I wrestled over what to do, in the end I decided to keep it on figuring that it would impede the massage in any way if it were on my stomach (wrong).

Once I completed my costume change, I sat in the room, waiting for my masseuse, wondering what was going on, and worried that we had walked into the wrong kind of massage parlor (if you know what I mean). After a bit, a girl wearing a traditional Chinese masseuse uniform walked in (later I found out that Adam's masseuse was dressed in such a way that you might have thought she was out clubbing). I wanted to tell her about the shirt, but she spoke no English whatsoever, and I just felt awkward. So I let it go.

The massage began, and it was fine...until it became like no massage I had ever had in the past. She started moving down my chest, thus making me terribly uncomfortable. And, I wasn't the only one who felt that way. My jimmy-rigged knot came loose and my shirt flew open. The girl panicked and stood up. I quickly covered myself and showed her the belt. A wave of relief swept over her face. She then excused herself and returned with a substantially longer belt. My shirt was then fixed, and I felt better.

Then, she started massaging my stomach and was baffled by the presence of the money belt. I was baffled by the stomach massage. I removed the money belt, and she continued by poking at my intestines. Once that bit of fun was over, she moved onto my legs and started getting dangerously close to my naughty bits--so close that I started to worry that I really HAD gone to the wrong massage parlor, and wondered what was happening next door in Adam's room.

She finished that terribly horrendous bit and had me flip over when she kneeled on my shoulders and started sliding down my back. By this point, I was so uncomfortable that anything beneficial that could have come from the massage was totally lost. After what felt like 10 years, the massage was finally complete. I thanked my masseuse and met Adam outside.

The walk back to the hotel was an awkward one.

Adam: How was your massage?
Me: It was good. You?
Adam: Fine.
(We walked for a bit in awkward silence.)
Adam: I have to ask you something. Did you... Did she... At any point...
Me: Was the massage weird and uncomfortable?
Adam: Yeah. Did she get really close to your...groin area?
Me: Oh yeah. You?
Adam: Yep. I didn't know what to do! I was freaking out.
Me: Me too!
Adam: I decided that if it was going to be a happy ending, I'd just start screaming your name for help.
Me: And what would that accomplish?
Adam: I don't know, but maybe she'd think you were my girlfriend and stop.
Me: Thank God it didn't come to that.

And that was my first Asian massage.

Given that experience, I wasn't so sure about the world of Thai massage (especially since someone told me that the massage I got was just like Thai massage). While in Chiang Mai, I went for it, and in one hour I was convinced that the massage I got in China was definitely strange. Thai massage is more of a beat-down (not that that one wasn't) and assisted stretching and less uncomfortable closeness (either that or I've grown as a person). I was also convinced of something else, and that was that I needed to get more massages.

I quickly remedied that a couple days later on the first day of our hill trek. We got to a Lisu village, and the village women were available for massages, so we took them up on it. I managed to get a dud. It started out okay, but it got progressively worse as my lady started just lightly petting my legs. Wondering if this was everyone's experience, I started looking around the room. It appeared as though everyone else was getting stretched and twisted, while I was still having my lower legs lightly patted.

I was getting frustrated, but didn't want to complain. So I just lay there, festering. And then my lady pointed at my pants and said something to everyone else. She gave me a weird look, then never made eye contact again. The massage kept going downhill, and she appeared to dislike me. I had no idea what was going on, so I just lay there. When the second-longest hour in massage history ended, we all bid the ladies adieu. I looked down at my pants and discovered that my fly had been open the entire time. And that's why my lady hated me. I was a dirty foreigner (though, in my defense I had long johns on, so it's not like she even saw my underwear, but I guess that's not the point).

Since then I've had several more massages, and each one gets better than the last. So long as my pants stay zipped, and my shirt stays closed, Asian massages are magic.