Thai Massage - Part II

We're here in Bangkok for the next two days. It's as dirty as everyone had warned me about, but nothing like I've never seen before. We arrived yesterday afternoon after a long drive from Phitsanulok and Ayuthaya (journal entries from those areas when I get a chance). Last night we went to dinner with our new friends, and then walked through the red light district. This morning we visited more temples but had the rest of the afternoon to explore. After dropping off laundry and grabbing a late lunch with Suzanne and Russ, Ritche and I decided we were going to get massages, but at the hotel where it would be clean with no "funny business."

I just returned from my massage, which was really great, but different from one that I've experienced in L.A. I decided to forego "tapping out" of a Thai massage opted for a Swedish massage. It was more expensive, but the conversion equaled about $33 USD for one hour, and that included tip and tax! Usually a massage like this one is north of $100 USD. The funny thing about the spa at the Grand Majestic Hotel (where we are staying) is it's on the same floor as the restaurant, swimming pool and business center. When you exit the elevator, the business desk is to your left, which also serves as the spa check-in desk. I guess that's managing human resources efficiently.

I checked in 10 minutes prior to my 7 p.m. appointment. The woman at the front desk hands me my locker key, and let's me know that I can use the steam or dry room before my massage. I clarify with her the logistics: I am to change and then meet my therapist at the business desk?! She confirms. Odd, but I agree.

7 p.m. rolls around and my therapists finds me washing my hands in the women's area. She leads me to a massage room, just next to the business desk area. She offers her hands towards the massage table. I hint to her that I'm in my "birthday suit" underneath my robe, just to make sure I'm on the same page. When I checked in with the woman at the business desk, she told me that this was kosher. There's no offer to "protect my modesty" as one masseuse in the U.S. so kindly put it as she held up a sheet to block her view from my rear view at one spa I visited years ago. I remove my robe and go face down. The next thing she does is gets on the table with me and straddles me and starts massaging my back. I think, "hmm, interesting. Not a position I've experienced in the U.S., but okay."

After she massages my back, she glides off the table and lifts one side of the towel to expose my left leg. Mind you, I'm in my birthday suit. I feel naked and exposed but she carries on, professionally. I very mindful of my legs, more specifically, the distance between each of them, especially in the thigh area. I think, "what is the appropriate amount of space between my legs to allow her to do her job effectively, but not make me feel uncomfy?" She makes the adjustments.

As she finishes up massaging the back of my legs, she asks me to turn over. She lifts the towel, I flip over, and then she places the towel on top of me. Again with the legs. I'm trying to relax, she's doing her job, and I'm hoping this scene doesn't turn into an Anne Rice novel. The leg techniques and adjustments she makes are as follows: outside of the leg massage, tree pose (that's one leg bent, but flat on the table)-inside of the leg massage; knee bent (towards the ceiling)-glute massage. The leg massage actually felt really great since my quads were sore from climbing up and down stairs for temples and the Bangkok sky tram. She got really close to certain areas, but this is Bangkok where those "certain areas" are performance artists.

As she finishes up massaging my arms and hands, I wonder if the end is near. She pulls the towel down so that it hits just below my navel and starts massaging my stomach and chest. THIS definitely would not fly in the U.S. I roll with it (no pun intended) and pretend that I had just completed a yoga core class and really need my tight abs to be massaged. She places the towel back over me.

Next she massages my face, head and shoulders. Once she's completed that area, she whispers "get up." I sit up slowly thinking the massage is over, but as I make my way up, she jumps on the table and pushes my back up. "Whoa!" I think. She presses her forearms into the tops of my shoulders and then applies pressure along my spine. It feels great!

My session ends. She opens my robe above her to cover her view and offers it in my direction in a way to "protect my modesty." I think it's too late for that.