A Massage to Remember .........................
by Ed Sorenson
Recently, Ed and I had one of those memorable events in life that come along not so frequently. Being a former journalist, Ed requested the chance to contribute to my travelblog with this rendition of the days’ events. He has a great writing style and captured the day pretty accurately, although maybe not exclusively fair….. (my blog – I can say that.) Thanks Ed. Enjoy!
Two Americans and a Chinese massage parlor, what could go wrong? My host Gene had been absolutely charming showing off the attractions of Dongguan City – fountains, gardens, parks and the city architecture were all very impressive. And what better way to cap off the day than with a massage?
No question, it did sound good. Gene was hosting me through work for the past week and I had no reason to doubt how good this experience would be. So with an innocent mind and good intentions, I was off for my first massage experience.
As we entered the lobby of the new Noble Spa at the New World B. Kinghan Leisure Club, greeting hostesses chorused: “Hello!” That was about the extent of the English spoken. Nice smiles, a hand-gestures or two and Gene had us pointed in the right direction. He’s quite the linguist – right?
We were shuffled off to large, exposed and scientifically-lit locker room with an oval bench in the middle of the walkway, and about six/seven attendants on hand to assist. Strip? Yes, we forked over all our clothes and these chaps neatly gave them the white-glove treatment, stored them, locked up our belongings and presented us with some rubber sandals (two-sizes too small) and a numbered wristband. Of course the homophobe “radar” came on immediately – like who was the last naked dude sitting on this bench and why am I looking at Gene and his “boys”?
Laughingly, we flopped our way down a flight of marble stairs to a rather expansive and empty spa area. Six 30-foot spas with different water temperatures and televisions stretched along the back wall of the room. Gene and I were instructed to shower first, and then pointed towards a station to brush our teeth and shave. Afterwards, Gene asked: “Massage?” Close, we thought, as we were pointed to the hot tubs for a water-bubble massage. I guess it was a massage. Getting into the pool was a challenge in modesty, for the water was barricaded by a three-foot high and wide marble rim. Naked, I just wanted to torpedo in like a seal, but I daintily straddled my 6-foot-4 frame over the wall without having my butt touch the slick marble surface. What was even more entertaining, just 3-feet away Gene scaled the wall for the bubbly right next to me – NOT!
Uncomfortable with bubble enigma, I evacuated with three attendants pointing me into a 20-foot diameter, 20-foot tall, glass chamber? It looked like the “beam me up” station right out of Star Trek. Odd, I thought, but OK I was game. They shut the door and 3,000 pressure-washer paced streams of water hit me from every axis of 360 degrees. Tingly, especially when they tried to shove Gene in there with me – I was so out of there. My personal bubble had been so violated.
After Gene’s turn, he again requested in his best Mandarin “Massage?” The attendants signaled us to the right. Behind door number one a sauna, door two laid a steam bath and number three featured a shower head three-feet wide by six-feet long. Going with flow, I chose door number three – I chose wrong!
Two attendants gowned only in droopy plaid boxers catered us to separate stalls. The cubical stall had a granite massage table in the middle directly below a bizarre shower head. With a clap and courteous smile, I was instructed to lie face up on the table. With a death-grip on my towel, I mounted the funky surface. Then the fun began. The little dude donned these green sandpaper mittens and started meticulously squirting and scrubbing my burly upper torso. Casually, I called over to Gene, “Do you know what we’re in for here?” All I got was a chuckle, then sarcasm and jokes flew as these dudes literally wet-sanded our bodies into a pink aura – lovely. If that wasn’t bad enough, after intruding on all body cracks and crevasses (and I do mean all – but I was a little tightly flinched for protection…. If ya know what I mean……..), they poured this milky crap over us and retreated to a box full of sand for some true delight – a handful of raw mineral sprinkle on every open pore of our bodies. How special! With the burning sensation of salt on a slug, the remedy was fascinating too.
To complete the humiliation (so we thought) the dudes draped us in wet towels and began playing the bongos on our buttocks and backs. Gene and I are both big boys with lots musical scale note areas on our bodies (something I did know about myself – thanks Gene). For about 10 minutes, the boys went slap happy on us like a pair of island natives trying to summon King Kong.
We were in hysterics by then, just when I thought it was over, I get shuffled into another stall for a power rinse. Face down; stark-naked on the granite, “kapoosh!”…………. a 1,000 gallons of water douches me instantly. Round one, it’s over…………. Nope again, but this time they tried to shove Gene in there with me. What the ______? I’m face-to-face with Gene’s boys – are you kidding me? They pull Mr. Buff out of my face and I’m finally done. Gene gets his turn at the power wash waterfall rinse, and off we went to the showers again. ……… “What was that?” A total body exfoliation, bonus! And we got charged extra for it too!
Next we hit the dryers – a personal fiberglass stall, see-through of course, with three 12-inch diameter aglow in nuclear red. I definitely had some shrinkage as everything retracted into my tummy for protection. Dry, sort of, an attendant pulled out this tube that looked like a white cigar case and unrolled a pair of white paper panties, right………... I got them about 1/3 of the up my leg and turned to Gene, “What do you think?” as they were stretched to capacity. You should have seen Gene try these on…….. What a hoot. After that failed for him too, they issued us a pair of navy blue boxers and a robe top at least two sizes too small. I looked like Chris Farley in Tommy Boy – “Fat guy in little coat!”
With our extra large frames covered, ….. barely, we were paraded to a lounge area. We reclined in to our own dentist-like chairs with plasma TVs on a chrome swivel and built-in stereo into the headrest. ……… Cool, ……except when you are trying to order a beer and Chinese tea from a waitress that doesn’t speak a lick of English. Half hour later, with 7-to-10 host and hostesses trying to translate we still we’re without our beverages. But the good news was we were on our way to the masseuses after 90 minutes of bodily violations.
The massage itself was conducted quite professionally by two women whose combined weight was about as much as my right leg. I was oiled, elbowed and kneed into relaxation. I guess it was okay if you like having your organs pushed from one side your body cavity to the other. Actually, I felt kind of sorry for my masseuse; she worked up quite a sweat as I lay there like a beached porpoise (I mean killer whale).
You have heard the expression, “I feel like a new man,”……….. Well this experience has definitely given it new meaning. Around town that evening Gene kept getting asked how he had gotten sunburn. Nope……. No sunburn….. but after getting five layers of dead skin scraped from your body, we were definitely new men!
Thanks Gene for a massage to remember (and unfortunately I’ll never forget),
Ed
PS – I did search the internet and yes our fears are true: Uncensored Web Cam – Yanks Exposed has been published worldwide :0)
posted by A Bryson (formerly) in China @ 5:48 PM
Comments: 1
