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Published: October 3rd 2009
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Soldier
Terracotta soldier with detail Tourism is a funny wee pastime. You arrive in a train station, weary from the travel somewhere on the other side of the world knowing that you now have 24 to 48 hours to hit the very places which thousands of travelers have raved about over the last however many years. You feel guilt for going to a place where everyone else has gone. Man, you think, I am boring, I am a lemming, I have no creativity… but at the back of your mind, you know there is a reason why everyone goes there and dammit, I am not going to miss out! Paris has its Eiffel Tower, San Francisco has its bridge, Nashua NH has Bertucci’s, and Xi’an has four halls of Terracotta soldiers which should without a doubt not be ignored. Qin Shi Huang’s warriors who now boldly stand at attention once again after twenty two hundred years of destruction are truly a historical masterpiece. Yet, it took me four days to reach Xi’an’s most popular tourist attraction. I first had to experience without a doubt - THE MOST AWKWARD EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFE
*insert dramatic music* It all began as many stories do, with the most
innocent request of a whole body massage. Having climbed a million stairs on Mount Hua, my muscles ached, my body was in tatters and only the fine hands of a woman…or a man(I’m not sexist) could set things right. The hostel which I was staying in luckily provided such a service, and thus provided me the guilt-free knowledge that I am not soliciting sex from a 13 year old, but actually getting a professional to subside my pain. I gleefully handed over my money for an hour of worry-free, ‘you’re going to feel like a million bucks’ morning. As a rose out of my seat, only one question remained
Me - “Could you show me on the map where I need to go for the massage?”
Sophie - “It’s ok, she will just come to your room”
The words hit hard and fast. My thought pattern -
1. I’m in a four person dorm-room
2. I have the top bunk
3. I just paid for a body massage
4. This should be interesting
Okay, I thought, I can make this work. There is no reason to be embarrassed right? It’s just a massage right? Everyone gets massages...right?
I chose 11am for the encounter and went to the room to prepare. The knock came slow and steady, good hands, good hands for giving a massage with. I opened the door and introduced myself. “Nihao, I’m Tosha. Come in, please”. A woman of 30 or so came through to the hostel room carrying a black bag. By the surprise on her face, I could see quite instantly that not many of her clients stay in a room with three other travelers. The 11am time had been chosen as the least likely time for anyone else to witness me laying half naked while getting oiled up.
Masseuse - “Which bed yours?” As I pointed to the top bed, the horror streamed through this kind lady’s face. That was not the answer she was looking for.
Me - “How about floor?”
The look of horror turned to one of realization that this was going to be one of the most awkward hours that both of us were ever going to have. At this point, hesitation did creep through my mind debating if my dignity was worth more than the $10 which I paid for the massage… It wasn’t. I
locked the door knowing full well that at any moment any one of my 3 unknown roomates could come waltzing through the room only to find, well, something that they did not want to find. Keeping my solitary boxers as the only protection from total humiliation, I lay on my chest in readiness
Masseuse - “Lay on back. I do front first” …oh Lord
The seconds ticked by like minutes, the minutes ticked by like hours, the hour went by..well, slowly. I eyed the door handle to the room consistently as an Asian woman oiled and rubbed my body. What would I say? “don’t mind me, just go about your business”, “she’s really good, I highly recommend her”, “its 10Y to look”. But the humiliation never came. Nobody came, nobody went. I was probably more tense than before, but as my massage came to a halt, so did my worries. My first experience of massage in Asia may not have been the most relaxing, but it sure was the most entertaining.
Having endured such heavy pressures to my mental psyche, I took out my stress by playing ping pong in the local park with some Chinese men.
I approached and motioned to play. They looked at me and I looked at them. They chuckled at my incompetence and handed me a paddle. I must admit, China are good at ping pong. They have dominated the sport since the 1960’s, however, do not underestimate an American male with the history of racket sports, the ownership of a table and the die hard ability of competitiveness. After 10 minutes, the realization came that this foreigner was not to be trifled with. Ping pong balls flew as a crowd started to slowly form around us. My opponent took off his shirt, and not to be outdone, I took off mine to the delight of the onlooking crowd. The USA vs. China battle would not be fought with nuclear weapons, but with paddles on a stone table. Respect is gained through the breaking of boundaries and sports are one of the best ways to accomplish this. Language, traditions and grudges are thrown out the window as two people compete on an even playing field. The game finished and I went on my merry way to a few pats of the back and thumbs up from the crowd. They had liked what
Muslim Quarter
Crowd shot at the Muslim Quarter they had seen.
We are all tourists when travelling, but as Hugo, a Brazilian that I seem to meet in random parts of China says, “It’s not the location, it’s getting there that’s the real story.”
Tomorrow I head to the Sichuan province of Western China and Chengdu for some Panda Bear adventures.
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