…neither of them mine. hah! gotcha.
If you have heard great things about those Thai massages and are dreaming of pretty young things softly caressing your skin with fragrant oils, here is something to make you pause and reflect. Sure you can choose to walk into a dimly lit massage parlour and live out that fantasy but chances are you will end up with some such rough-kick-boxing-meets-sadistic-massage routine and then where are you?
I tried a “relaxing” shoulder and neck massage (right, that is how optimistic I was, given the sorry state that my neck and upper back have been for years now) – I sat for maybe one and a half minutes before the ouch! OUCH! OUCH! OUCH! finally got through to the masseuse (I think I had fainted in pain by then) and she stopped, giving me just enough time to make a run for it. And this was after several minutes of detailed instructions and requests for a “soft massage” – absolutely no pressure please, see the surgery scar here? and so on.
After all this, I still went ahead and took a foot massage when mall-hopping got too tiring. And I am happy to report total bliss, everything I had hoped for (pretty young things excluded, of course). An hour of feet pampering and I was ready to hit the shopping scene again.
And on the road, this. I have no idea what this means though. And all within twenty minutes!
Match made in the heavens?