As I am in the home of Ayurvedic 'medicine', it would be
remiss of me to not try the local delicacy. Besides, as I've mentioned earlier,
I had sore legs and I'm keen to try most things at least once.
What did I expect? Well, I was told it would hurt; at least that was not a lie. But how would it hurt? Aye', there's the rub. I expected a massage to hurt because the masseuse (in this case 2 masseuses, the father - the master, and the son - the apprentice) as far as I was concerned are expected to stick their oily fingers into and in between the victim's,
sorry, patient's: weary muscles, sinews, tendons, and whatever other bits and bobs lurk beneath the surface of my outer coating. This apparently moves the 'toxins' out of the 'bits 'n bobs'.
I need to take a moment here to clarify for you that, no dear reader; I am not actually a qualified medical practitioner. Therefore, please take most of what I say with a grain of salt, or maybe: a Bex, a cup of tea, and a nice lie down.
Now where was I? Oh yes, toxins. It has never been explained to me, even during conventional 'western' sports massage, what these toxins are, how they got there in the first place, how massage gets them out, and where the hell they go. That said, let us take the toxins as a given; I mean, usually before a massage something is sore, and after it is not sore.
Something has changed, so let' go with for arguments sake that sore = toxins, and therefore not sore = less or no toxins. Are you still with me?
So there I am. Naked as the day I was born and at the mercy of these practitioners of Ayurveda. I am handed a length of string - this will be my ‘belt’; its purpose is to hold my loincloth in place. This cloth is thin and small. Even for the normally endowed, this cloth is barely adequate to maintain any level of modesty. Oh well, I'm only about to spend 45 minutes in a tomb like room, with two grown men I have never met, and allow them to oil and rub me.
What did I expect? Well, I was told it would hurt; at least that was not a lie. But how would it hurt? Aye', there's the rub. I expected a massage to hurt because the masseuse (in this case 2 masseuses, the father - the master, and the son - the apprentice) as far as I was concerned are expected to stick their oily fingers into and in between the victim's,
sorry, patient's: weary muscles, sinews, tendons, and whatever other bits and bobs lurk beneath the surface of my outer coating. This apparently moves the 'toxins' out of the 'bits 'n bobs'.
I need to take a moment here to clarify for you that, no dear reader; I am not actually a qualified medical practitioner. Therefore, please take most of what I say with a grain of salt, or maybe: a Bex, a cup of tea, and a nice lie down.
Now where was I? Oh yes, toxins. It has never been explained to me, even during conventional 'western' sports massage, what these toxins are, how they got there in the first place, how massage gets them out, and where the hell they go. That said, let us take the toxins as a given; I mean, usually before a massage something is sore, and after it is not sore.
Something has changed, so let' go with for arguments sake that sore = toxins, and therefore not sore = less or no toxins. Are you still with me?
So there I am. Naked as the day I was born and at the mercy of these practitioners of Ayurveda. I am handed a length of string - this will be my ‘belt’; its purpose is to hold my loincloth in place. This cloth is thin and small. Even for the normally endowed, this cloth is barely adequate to maintain any level of modesty. Oh well, I'm only about to spend 45 minutes in a tomb like room, with two grown men I have never met, and allow them to oil and rub me.
They oil me from head to foot like a Sunday roast being prepared
for the oven. They rub my limbs in rhythmical motions, their arms working like sinewy
brown pistons. I'm flipped over and rubbed some more. Note I say rubbed, this is
not the deep tissue massage I was expecting. I'm tugged and tossed (please,
keep it clean) and rubbed some more. The experience hurts, but it's not the
rubbing that hurts so much, more the side of my body pressed into the hard
wooden plank, which serves as the massage table.
Finally, it is over, and as the good Doctor leaves the room, I am told to relax. Relax! I'm oiled from tip to toe, my loincloth is giving me a double wedgie, and I'm lying on a hard plank of wood. I must look like a corpse laid out prior to a funeral ceremony. I have no pillow, and as he leaves the room, he turns off the overhead fan. This, I find, is a perverse idea of relaxation.
Finally, it is over, and as the good Doctor leaves the room, I am told to relax. Relax! I'm oiled from tip to toe, my loincloth is giving me a double wedgie, and I'm lying on a hard plank of wood. I must look like a corpse laid out prior to a funeral ceremony. I have no pillow, and as he leaves the room, he turns off the overhead fan. This, I find, is a perverse idea of relaxation.
After what seems an eternity - probably 10 minutes, but long enough for me to list many things I would rather be doing or other ways to relax - he returns with shampoo, soap and a towel. ‘Shower’, what a most excellent idea. Alas, no amount of lathering and rubbing is going to completely rid me of this oily residue. After reducing the soap to a nub, I admit defeat, and give myself a brisk rub down with the provided rough towel. (Please allow me some simple pleasures)
I dress, depart the tomb, find the good Doctor, and pay him his fee, thanking him profusely for a wonderful experience. (C'mon, I was being honest. It was an experience, and it was full of wonders. Like, I wonder what the fuck they are doing now...)
So there you have it; massage Ayurvedic style. If you like: near naked embarrassment, wondered what the inside of a crypt looks like, want to be oiled and rubbed by two perfect strangers, or would like to relax in the most un-relaxing surroundings, this might just be the thing for you.
Two out of five stars.
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