Who knew I had “shoulders of stone” and needed a massage before I traveled to China?
My brother and I spent the day touring an electronics factory. The factory managers, who had never met my brother before, were nervous.
Business customs required them to entertain this foreign visitor.
But he has his sister with him.
Normally, they’d take the guest to a bar and all get rip roaring drunk. They didn’t particularly enjoy those outings, because that made it tough to get up for work in the morning.
But this guy had his sister with him and she didn’t look the part.
What to do?
Would an American woman like a massage?
Three engineers joined us for dinner at the hotel. One brought his pretty wife.
We tried to share stories about our lives. Everyone else used their cell phone to display family pictures.
After dinner, they loaded us into a van and drove through dark streets, narrowly missing bicycle riders whose bike lamps were out.
“It’s because they worry the battery will lose its charge,” sighed one engineer. “Of course not using the battery is the worst thing they could do.”
The van squeezed into a small parking area in front of a neon-lit club.
I followed along, clueless to their plans, past the gambling scenes and up a swirling flight of stairs into a small room crowded with seven beds.
They indicated I should sit down.
My brother “you are two meters tall,” the Chinese hosts marveled, raised his eyebrows at me and grinned.
He sprawled across the first bed.
I sit gingerly on the edge of the second, my knees pressed tight together and wondered what we had gotten into.
How did my brother know these people?
He’d found them on the Internet.
Giggling raises my concern
The three engineers and the wife entered, giggling, lounged on what turned out to be massage beds and someone closed the door.
They chatted in Chinese and I looked about the darkened room, holding my hands as still as possible.
“You don’t know what’s going to happen, do you?” My brother smirked.
I may be only 1. 5 meters tall, but I am the older sister. I sat up straight. “I’m sure you’ll protect me no matter what.”
He laughed.
Seven small Chinese women dressed in pink smocks over white shirts and slacks entered carrying identical buckets.
They knelt before each of us and indicated we should take off our shoes.
“Mrs. Michelle, you know this?” the chief engineer asked.
Mystified, I shook my head and took off my shoes and socks.
The small woman kneeling before me slipped my feet into her bucket of warm water and within minutes, I leaned back to savor a lovely foot massage.
Perfect after a long flight from California.
Everyone in the room except me chatted (Two meters tall speaks a little Chinese) and I finally relaxed.
Had I ever had a massage before?
“Once, after I finished writing a book.” I indicated my shoulders. “They get very sore.”
After a flurry of discussion, the tiny foot masseuse indicated I should get up.
She stood on the bed and began to knead my shoulders.
She said something and everyone laughed.
“Mrs. Michelle, she says you have shoulders like stone.”
She spoke the truth–I’ve since learned that women carry tension in their shoulders and I certainly was tense that night!
But the tiny woman’s strong hands relaxed the sore muscles in my shoulders and when the evening was done, my brother and I were more than glad to have missed a night of alcohol (as were our hosts).
A massage was a much better way to entertain western guests–and boy, did we sleep well that night!
Have you ever had a massage in a foreign country? What was that like?
Jennifer Major says
Ever been to the Lima airport?
The one in Peru?
With a zillion other people, all headed either for Argentina or Machu Pichu?
Well, they have SWANKY massage …spas? Salons? Places with glass walls smack in the middle of the restaurants and gift shop.
Quechua and Aymara ladies with hands that could crack a branch were paid a pittance to knead the living daylights out of my shoulders while I sat in a chair and leaned my face into a round cushy thing.
10$ for 20 minutes.
That was the rate!!
I sprung for 40 minutes of heaven.
For the rest of the morning, I walked around the airport like a drunk gringa with a red circle embedded on my face. But I didn’t care, I was limber and relaxed and ahhhhh.
Jamie Chavez says
Never in a foreign country but always before I leave for one and after I return from one! 🙂 Great story!
hummingbird125 says
I had a lower-leg and foot massage while in Thailand. I’m a total wuss when it comes to massages. I squirmed the whole time and had to keep asking the lady to not be so hard while my friends were enjoying their massages and laughing at me all the while!
Kim says
Me me me!!! When we went to Japan I walked so much that I was in extreme pain after five days. We went to the Peace Park at Hiroshima, and although it was a highlight of the trip, it spelled the end for my poor feet. I was certain I was going to be bedridden and have to miss everything we had planned for the next few days, confined to our tiny hotel room while my family had a blast. There was a massage shop just steps from the entrance to our hotel — Mike and the girls steered me to the door as I was limping slowly toward the lobby and feeling terribly sorry for myself. Best gift anyone ever gave me! I danced out of there a new woman and was able to enjoy the rest of the trip pain-free! I almost wimped out, though, because it hurt so badly that I cried. I don’t know what that woman did, but it was magic…all that pain certainly did mean that I gained being able to enjoy the rest of my trip :-).
michelle says
Wow, Kim, so a foot massage saved your aching feet for your vacation? Amazing how loosening up all those mausvles could make such a difference!