| Friday |
| Massage? |
Many would agree that it is often too difficult to dig out the fifty bucks of hard earned money for a half an hour worth of massage in Australia. I have a high expectation for my money’s worth. If I’m willing to fork out that yellow note, I expect a full body massage, going deep into the calves and back, ease all my neck stiffness and pain and to walk out after half an hour feeling like a complete new person. Not possible, I know.
Different story altogether in countries like India and Thailand. Massage parlours are so abundant there that competition makes the prices plummet and highly affordable for us youngsters. It is hard to pass by without doing a double take. Sometimes triple.
So it happens that I ended up paying 500 rupees (AU$15) for a full hour worth of skin care Ayurvedic massage, and that was no doubt fifteen dollars well spent. Claims that it purifies the body, restores the doshas (bodily humours) and equilibrium in the body, Ayurvedic medicine is both a well-accepted and an ethically-challenged practice today.
I specifically requested a masseuse rather than a masseur for my session, hoping to eliminate all awkwardness if there was going to be any. Being a physiotherapy student myself, it is no big deal stripping down to our under garments in the presence of strangers, but this time, even under garments weren’t allowed. I hurriedly slip them off covering all unsightly,or perhaps sightly bits and pieces, whilst the masseuse stares at you as if you are not bothered by her presence. Akwardness to the max. As I stood there bare, she approaches me and wraps a flimsy rope around my waist and tucks a fraying white see-through cloth in places the sun doesn’t shine. It’s probably an attempt to help protect what modesty their customers have left after the ordeal, but I don’t see why they even bother.
Smeared with oil from head to toe, she then begins rubbing – perhaps I should stick with the word “massaging” – my feet, legs, thighs, working her way upwards in the most synchronous and relaxing fashion. It felt like two people were touching me. A dream better off dismissed early. I closed my eyes trying desperately to zone out of my naked body being rubbed by another female, but at times, you can not resist but secretively open and squint through the slit between your eyelids, seeing if she was looking at the parts that she was rubbing. To my relief, she wasn’t. Instead she was staring at the clock hanging on the wall, probably wishing that she could turn that minute hand forwards solely with the power of her eyes. Perhaps I would feel better if she looked at me, however dangerous and uninviting eye contact may be.
The herbal oils smeared on the body are meant to help moisturise and repair damaged skin, and apparently and mysteriously enter the joints in the body and reduce its stiffness. And it did just that. Hardly wanting to move after such a wonderful rub by a fellow female, I waddled out of the parlour like some oily meat waiting to be put on the barbie.
Highly recommended ayurvedic massage, for those who are game, or just in for some naked fun. *tsk tsk* |
posted by sciurine @ 10:29 PM   |
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Thoughts, ...flowing slowly and gracefully, ...awakening the senses, ...keeping you up in the night, I sometimes wonder why people write. To express? To reflect? To be heard? I write, to free myself from a world of thoughts.
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