I may have made a tactical error.
I’ve not been sleeping so great. Being on an unusual bed has a tendency to do that to me… aaaand this information surprises no one. So I wanted to go for a massage. Seeing that costs about $170 real dollars here, I thought I’d get one in Auckland instead. I know, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
I found a place in a shopping centre, very similar to what they have at home, and though a 45 minute neck, back and shoulder massage might loosen me up a bit. But I kinda overlooked the importance of communication in the massage process having become familiar with the massage therapists that I see at home.
Turns out getting a massage from someone with a limited grasp of English, isn’t the same as getting my nails done from someone with whom I have a similar language barrier. Worst thing that can happen getting my nails done by a little Vietnamese lady who can’t understand me is that I’ll end up with nails that are out too long or too square. Turns out that the worst thing that can happen getting a massage from a little Chinese lady with speaks VERY limited English is that I can spend the next hour in excruciating agony!
The exchange went something like this:
Me: Hi I’ve got a chronic pain condition from a number of car accidents, and I’d like a neck, back and shoulder massage, please.
Massage Lady: You point. You point on picture.
Me: O_o okay *duly points to picture*
ML: Ok. On table.
Me: I’d prefer no oil and 45 min mins thanks
ML: Okay. Okay. No problem. No problem. I do you.
Hmmm…
So like a fool, I half strip and get on the table and within less than 30 seconds, I am clenching my hands, eyes wide open in extreme pain and going ‘Hey, easy on, that REALLY hurts.’ She pokes around for a bit, ‘So stiff. So stiff.’… a bit more ‘Very tight. Very tight.’, more prodding, ‘Too hard. Too hard’. I’m squirming and just about in tears, telling her to ease up! Then she says in very broken English, ‘You want me go lighter, I need take longer.’ Ok fair enough. I knew my muscles were in quite a state seeing how she poked my upper thoracic and I got a sharp pain behind my right ear, and then she poke my lower back and I got a horrid ants crawling over my scalp sort of tingly feeling, so that’s fair cop, I think. One hour it is.
She says ‘Muscles no loosen up without Chinese oil’. So, then it was out with the oil. Yeurk… I hate massage oil, it leaves you all slimy for the rest of the day. And she’s rubbing my back down like I’m a big brawny footballer or something, trying to get my muscles to loosen up a bit. And once they did a little bit, it was out with the pointy pointy fingers. Holy fuck. I had forgotten why I always try and see masseurs… larger hands means the heavy pressure is distributed a little less pointedly. Fark. Everywhere she touched me was horrendously tender and painful. I found myself doing breathing exercises like a laboring pregnant woman to try and get through the pain! Unbelievable.
But when I think I’m okay with that, it was out with the pointy, point elbows. Seriously, she was pushing so hard on my shoulder girdle, I swear I heard her put a foot up on the wall opposite to get more leverage! More gritting of teeth and imploring her to ease up a bit, ‘Yes, yes, lady. No problem. No problem.’ Argghh!
By this time I am lying there, face squished down the hole doing the squirrel cheeks thing, wondering how soon the hour will be up and wondering if I’ll make it. Next thing I know, she’s put a towel over my lower back and clambered up onto the table with me and starts getting into the back of my hips with her knees! Shit. As if this woman didn’t have pointy enough hands, and pointy enough elbows, I gotta saying, her damn knees were about as pointy as they come! She kneaded me (pun intended) all up and down my lower spine, rather skillfully getting into every vertebra by swinging her feet left and right to get the right angles. I felt like Tim Curry, in Charlie’s Angels with Lucy Liu walking up and down his back, half expecting some unexpected and swift maneuver that would render me unconscious any second… well I was hoping for unconsciousness, because this shit was fucking killing me!
I managed to get out of there alive, though seriously thought it was going to be a bit touch and go there for a while. I was somewhat dazed for about the next half hour, guzzling as much water as I could and trying to keep a jumper on so I didn’t cool down too quickly.
Not smart Borys, not smart. Tomorrow we will see if my back looks like someone took to it with a bike chain.
Shan’t be doing that again.
