March 21, 2011

• Massage ++ part 1/3.

  She was pretty. China-doll look-a-like pretty. She walked in with a full make up on. Her long hair was done with a light orange-blond highlight and a twirl at the end that fell softy just below her clavicles on her petite shoulder. She had on a tight Turkish-blue uniform, similar in comparison to what an airline attendant would wear. She was very slim. Her short skirt that was well above her knees boldly accentuated her figure. She stood right about my height, with her high heels on. Why would she even be wearing make-up and high heels at a place like this? I thought to myself. The massage parlor is located in a three-star hotel, after all. Maybe it’s a standard here in Guangzhou?

  Earlier…..
  I should have guessed it the moment I walked into the hotel. With the exception to a spa, no “true” massage parlor will run a business in a hotel. But what would I, a tourist, know? They do things differently in every country, don’t they? It could be my oblivion. It could also be my ignorance. No matter what it was, I made the decision to walk in and requested a foot massage service. I needed it. My legs were killing me. To my surprise, they had a 60-minute full body massage available 24 seven BUT a foot massage won’t be available until after lunchtime. Odd, I thought. It was only around 10AM. I needed the massage done before my lunch appointment. So I shrugged and said to myself “Oh well, why not”.

  Entrance located right next to the reception at the lobby level. Men’s locker and relaxation room are located on the second floor. So I went up and got my locker opened by an male attendant. I was provided with a towel and told it’s mandatory to take a shower. Odd, I thought again. And so I did have my second shower that morning, being an obedient tourist that I was. After I got out, he gave me a pajama-like kimono to wear. All these instructions were given in a special sign language for tourists, since I don’t speak Chinese. We understood each other well enough to exchange a smile once or twice.

  He then led me to a dimmed-light air-conditioned room at the end of the floor, filled with older gentlemen relaxing in leather recliners. Many were dozing off, while some were watching something on the mini television attached to their recliners. All were wearing the same kimono I was wearing. A female attendant in black was waiting. At spotting my presence, she welcomed me. The male attendant left. The female attendant asked what kind of a massage I would like to have. “A Chinese massage or a Thai massage?” she asked softy. I chose a Chinese massage. It’s no brainer. When one in China, one chooses a Chinese massage, no? But there were no questions asked on what type of massage oil I’d like to use (green tea or jasmine or whatever), or if I prefer a male or a female masseur for strength preference. The kind of typical questions one would get if one were to visit a “true” massage parlor. The language barrier prevented me to ask. She just gave me a room key with a number, attached to a rubber bracelet so I could wear it on my wrist. She told me to go upstairs (3rd floor) to find my room. Odd, I thought once again.

  Upstairs, I passed many rooms. Very quiet. Very cold. Very surreal. The lighting made the surrounding and everything looked sepia. The whole thing seemed getting weirder by the minute. It gave me goose bumps. Once I found the room number that matched to the number on my key tag, I unlocked the door and found inside a dark tiny room with a massage table on the left and a used bed on the right. A BED! Why would a bed be doing here? Then it struck me. OH NO, I thought to myself. WHAT HAVE I GOT MYSELF INTO??...

  • 3:44 am
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