This has to have an entire post to itself because I need you to fully understand what Nancy and I have just been through. It is so unbelievable that I have actually asked Nancy to write her own experience before we talk about it to prove to you I am not exaggerating.
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| What we imagined our massage would be like... |
Immediately I felt like I was doing something illegal. Shady spot, dark walls, tiny windows and in the middle of the room a wooden plank with a bit of foam on it. The sweet Indian girl said to please take my clothes off and started with my hoodie, jeans and then bra. She then came over with what looked like ( I need your imagination now ) a piece of material shaped like a long rectangle with two strings at the top. It was as wide as a tissue and for visual purposes, as long as ten blocks of toilet paper.
So she ties the one end around my waist and directs me to take off my underwear, then grabs the other end, swings it through my legs and tucks it under the tied string. Basically I look and feel like a person from deep dark Africa in traditional attire.
I’m then shown to the wooden plank and told to lie on my stomach and the oiling begins. I have never ever had so much oil on me, squeezed out of a plastic mustard container (you know when we were younger and everyone had those matching sets of yellow and red squeezy plastic things) After my full body massage, and I mean full, I was instructed to sit on the edge of the bench with foam where she proceeded to give me my chest, neck and arm massage.
Then I saw her pointing at the red plastic chair, the type you get in church halls, and moved over there, still covered in oil and just with my white cloth for my head massage. Desperate not to laugh (or slide off the chair) I hear Nancy say, “ek kan nie” (translation: i can't) and began to laugh. Next up I hear Nancy say “can my sister come to the steam room too?”. Silence. Well, all I can say is thank the stars in the sky we didn’t share.
This is an Indian steam room. Picture a wooden box and a little black stool in the middle. Now picture a small hole on the top where your head sticks out. After ten minuets in this torture unit, sitting naked and helpless with the giggles, I was taken back to the room to have the oil rubbed off me by the sweet lady. Awkward!
Now here is Nancy’s version:
Where do I start? Perhaps from the when we paid the deposit. Sitting on plastic chairs and being pressured as to which treatment we were going to have. Anyway we had a very festive and busy day and could not wait for our 90 minute pure pleasure. Well we arrived and were taken down two flights of stairs into this room. Suze and I were separated and I started having anxiety attacks as she had been glued to my hip for the last five days. Anyway, I was asked by the little Indian lady to remove all my clothes. I looked at her and said “all my clothes?”, because I do seem to have a language barrier in the first place. So she sweetly said “yes mum”. So I waited for her to leave the room, but she said again ”please remove your clothes. I started taking off my jeans and top and bra, while she stared at me, then she said “everything” to which I heard Suze saying in the other room,, “even this, and this?” I got the giggles and removed all my clothing and stood there like the day I was born.
She proceeded to whip a Dr White under and up! I was finished. Now I had to jump onto the bed with my bum in the air, still giggling and dying to speak to Suze. She started with putting oil on my legs and removed the string of the Dr White so that I was exposed again. I started having a lovely massage and had just controlled the giggling when her hand slid higher than it should. I thought it was a slip but it continued for ten minutes. Then she did my back. Thank goodness for that because I could not clench my bum cheeks any longer. She then tied the Dr White again and asked me to turn over. To my surprise there she was squeezing oil out of an old tomato sauce plastic bottle. When she started the massage it smelt like zambuck but my mind played tricks on me and all of a sudden, it smelt like I was being rubbed in curry powder. Anyway, with body completely exposed, it felt like winter in there and I was frozen to the bone. She then proceeded to ask me to sit up and put my legs over the side of the bed. She started massaging my arms and I was wondering why on earth she couldn’t have done this while I was lying down (I looked thinner that way). So sitting like Buddha on the end of the bed being rubbed by a little Indian lady while freezing was not my idea of fun! I was wishing the minutes away, and we opted to for the 90 minutes?? Are we mad! She says to me, are you ready for the steam bath? I was a little hesitant but in a small voice I asked if my sister can come too. No response. I took that as a no.
So just wrapped in a “sheet” I was escorted to the cubicle next to me. She opened the door and I wanted to die! I had never. There was this little wooden thing with a chair in it and a hole for your head. I thought about running for the hills but I was lathered in oil, and since in India I try everything once. She asked me to take off my sheet and sit on this chair. The thoughts going through my mind, I cannot even begin to tell you. So there I sat on the chair with my oily crack and giggling inside for ten minutes while the sweat started pouring. She kept coming to ask if I was okay. What could I have said? As I got back to my room I heard Suze in the other room saying in her best Afrikaans “Tell her about your head”. I got super scared because anyone that knows me knows I hate people touching my head. So there I sat on a plastic chair while she proceeded to throw half a bottle of that ketchup oil in my hair. I told her softly that I had had enough and I think she saw from the tears in my eyes. So there I was frozen again with tapping and hair pulling! I thought it could not get any worse when she ripped off the sheet and started rubbing the sweat and oil off me. There I stood naked, once again.
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