Rub-a-dub

Saturday morning I stumbled right into the toilet stall by mistake, ready to take a shower. That’s how tired I am. (But in my defense, the two stall doors are identical from the outside!)

To help find relief from this difficult and exhausting work schedule, I have discovered that Beijing offers up a number of inexpensive foot massage parlors all over town. And thankfully, they stay open very, very late.

So my first experience in one of these massage joints was a trip indeed. I went with Christina - who I should add has gone back every night this week - and was immediately wowed (and a bit frightened!) by the scene. Four lovely women in pink polyester prom dresses stood at the entrance, and in perfect unison welcomed us with a slight bow of the head and a sing-song version of “nee how blah blah blah….” They shuffled us into a small elevator, where a smartly-dressed woman with an ear-piece headset (an Asian replica of Jennifer Lopez in The Wedding Planner) was waiting to escort us down a few flights, into what felt like an underground world. The elevator doors opened, and the scene that unfolded before us was straight out of a Chinese Mafia movie. Hectic activity everywhere, tens of people bustling around, all dressed in proper uniforms or business suits or traditional attire, massage therapists running to and fro, tall serious-faced women talking into their earpieces, lovely polyester prom dress-clad greeters holding “menus” of salon services, scary looking men that I simply wouldn’t mess with. The place was frenetic.

We started with a 20-minute back and shoulder rub ($4) and sat side by side as two young men with scary hands drummed away on our very sad backs. We were then escorted into a gorgeous private room with large reclining chairs and a big-screen plasma television, ready for our 100 minute foot massage to commence as we changed into the standad issue pajamas. The entire process that followed was down to a science: two men came in, again moving in unison, with large buckets of water in which we began to soak our feet. Then two very young women entered, and the 100-minute reflexology massage began - again, in perfect unison. It was amazing, and I think we both probably passed out at some point. I pulled out my guide book and we began a language exchange with the two girls, sharing English and Mandarin phrases, them in hysterics over my pronunciation. At the end they gave us these little black grandma stockings, which Christina put on like a lunatic, and we were shuffled out to reception to pay the bill (total $24 for 2 hours of treatments), then shuffled back into the little elevator and out onto the street. By this point it was about 12:30 in the morning, and there was a group of police officers milling around out front. Either they were about to raid the place, or they were about to go in for their own bit of pampering. Or both!

(Shhh.... don't tell my boss, but I just now returned from getting another quick back rub. The best $4 I have ever spent.)

Factual observation of the day: there are no birds in Beijing. No pigeons. Nothing. This, I understand, is because the dirty air killed them all off. How sad is that?

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