Yesterday
we walked from the Hotel in Kaili, called Best Fortune Hotel in English, a few
blocks to the Miao Culture Museum but it was closed. So Keren took us to a foot massage
place. The neighborhood wasn’t the
cleanest so I was a bit leery—foot massages are not generally my cup of oolong
anyway—but when we walked into the place I decided to keep an open mind. George had stayed back at the hotel for a
rest so it was just Tom and me and Jane and Keren. Keren discussed price with the staff and we
were told that the price was what I understood to be 100 Yuan ($15) for thirty
minutes. Okay, what the heck, it’s cheap
enough, so off came the shoes, on came the rubber shower shoes and we were
escorted up the stairs past a large café/restaurant to a huge area where there
was room after room filled with massage beds but not many clients. We were led to a room with four beds,
assigned to our respective bed and in came four smiling young ladies dressed
in uniforms, each with a wooden bucket full of steaming water. The buckets must have been very heavy but
they lifted them with ease. Then they
brought in a cup of tea and a plate of watermelon and cherry tomatoes for each
of us. We nibbled on these snacks while
they prepared for the massage. They
asked if we wanted certain oils added to the water, but Keren said no that costs
extra and we don’t need any extras. We
were sitting lengthwise on our beds but the ends of the beds pulled out so that
the buckets could be slid in and our feet submerged. Too hot!
No problem—pitchers of cold water were brought in but clearly the water
was supposed to be hot hot hot so I stiff-upper-lipped it and was eventually
able to gingerly put in my feet.
Then
my girl began massaging my neck and shoulders.
I assumed she was allowing my feet to be disinfected by the boiling
water and just killing a few minutes in the meantime. But the combination of
the steaming water on my feet and her strong hands on my shoulders and neck was
very soothing. Meanwhile five or ten
minutes had gone by because I was able to see the clock on the wall and I’m
wondering what about the feet. Then she
began massaging my arms, one by one, using acupressure points on my wrists and
hands, which felt wonderful although in certain places it hurt. I complained a bit but Keren translated that
she said it had to be hard to be of benefit.
Okay, no mercy, I shall be stoic.
Hands—each finger gently stretched, kneaded and bent back and
forth. Arms pulled, slapped, rotated,
shaken. Then each foot massaged with
oil, acupressure points applied, insteps squeezed and pressed, and then wrapped
in warm towels. I had long since stopped
watching the clock.
Anyway,
I’ll spare you a further blow by blow description, but the $15 was for ninety
minutes not thirty, and it was not only a thorough foot massage, but arms,
legs, back, shoulders, neck, scalp and temples—all expertly manipulated by a
little Miao girl with very strong hands.
They finished by turning us over, re-inserting the ends of the beds so
we could stretch out and massaging our backs. All the while the girls chatted
among themselves quietly and if you remember that old Seinfeld episode where
Elaine worries that the Korean nail girls are saying mean things about her
because they know she can’t understand them, you’ll know how we felt. But Keren said that as far as he could hear,
they were just talking about their daily routines. Anyway, they were too sweet to say mean
things.
When
they were finished, Jane and Tom and I discussed how much to tip them while
they cleared away the equipment, but then they disappeared and didn’t come
back! Keren asked at the desk and was
told no tips accepted or expected.
Though we didn’t see many other clients, each of the girls does seven or
eight such massages a day which is real work.
Still, it’s better than working in the fields.
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