Having been jetlagged to the utmost max last night, one of my brothers and I decided to get a massage to help us go to sleep. Our cousin suggested a place called "Teacher Deng" (well, that is the best I can do in terms of translation), and we cabbed there with our hopes up for a relaxing experience.
First off, you get your feet soaked in a basin in a row alongside several others. The water was red, and when I asked why, they told me it was essential oils. Pfah! Essential oils aren't RED. I asked them which ones, and they said "Bergamot" (which was complete B/S, because Bergamot is orangy-yellow, and doesn't leave a red color in water), and then they said "Rose," which is even worse, because that is actually clear. So pretty much, they put rose perfume oil in the water, which has no therapeutic effect whatsoever (don't mess with me! I'm the Queen of Aromatherapy!)
Next, we were led upstairs into a common room (which was fine, there were 4 in our party), and asked to change into pajama-like clothing. Then, a massage therapist came in and spread a thin sheet over us, and this was what they massaged us through, with GREAT force. We are talking: pummeling, bruising, etc. etc. They basically ran roughshod over us. I had too much pride to say, "That hurts," but my cousin in the corner was screeching, 'Please, not so hard, not so hard.'
After a while, as I was gritting my teeth from the pain, I heard my brother's massage therapist let out a long, low belch. NICE. Then, the phone in the room rang, and one of the massage therapists picked it up, and after that, a conversation ensued about which massage therapist was actually in the room. Then, all of them who were massaging us talked about where to go for a beer after work, accompanied with much laughter and jesting. We, the clients, were afterthoughts.
After the extracurricular activities were settled, my massage therapist proceeded to get the sniffles, and I could tell she was blowing her nose into her hands. It felt like she was wiping them off on my back, but I couldn't tell. I was thinking to myself, "OMG OMG OMG, thank goodness there is a sheet between us and I am wearing clothes that are not my own." And then she started massaging a sensitive part on my neck and I involuntarily brought my fingers in close to my chest and I could feel her snot rag under my shoulder. I nearly jumped off the table!
Thankfully I didn't have to do that, because after manipulating me around a few times and cracking a few spots in my spine, the massage was over and I was out of those clothes, back into my own, and flying down the hall to a bathroom so I could wash wash wash.
Wow, that was kind of terrible. Granted, it cost about $31 US, but that is still not SO cheap that you would be willing to undergo gaseous intestinal disturbances and explosions of mucus from your caregivers!
I will try another place when my body stops feeling so sore.