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Published: March 1st 2008
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Since i wasn't able to take any pictures at the massage place this is a preview of my next blog where there will be much more pictures like this. When coming to Bahrain I thought that I was going to be exposed to mainly middle east and muslim culture. I was wong! There are many other cultures here in Bahrain and I had my first encounter with a traditional south Indian experience today. Just a word of warning: this story does contain nudity so please if there are children present they may need to leave the room.
It all started when I told Diego that I felt like I needed a massage. With only a look I knew I had opened Pandora’s Box and he said he would take care of it. After our big win against the second place team a few days ago the time had come for us to receive our long overdue massages. Diego made the appointment, asked if I had an open mind, and judging by the smirk on his face I know I was in for it.
The place looked harmless enough. Walking into the reception area was similar to many other holistic places I have visited. It had the same herbal smell, familiar earthy tones, and pleasant looking Indian woman with a jewel on her forehead greeting everyone as they walked in. With a smile the woman said, “You may pay now, no problem.” As I presented the woman with my 15BD (about $43) I handed over not only my money but any modesty I might be bold enough to posses. With the transaction complete two middle aged Indian men asked me to follow them into one of the back rooms. In case you were not paying attention; yes I said TWO men. That’s four hands and 20 fingers that aren’t shy about……well anything. I still did not know what I was in for so I happily followed the two gentlemen to the back and disrobed down to my boxers like they asked. “What’s that you say?” I asked as one of the men made funny gestures downward with both hands. “Oh. You want me to take everything off while you stand right in front of me watching.” About here there was an awkward pause before I decided he would probably be receiving the brunt of the mental scaring. A second or two later the man pulled out what could only be described as a sort of loin cloth that would have made even Tarzan blush. He was gentle as he placed it where it needed to be. Feeling more naked than I would have with nothing on I was ushered over to the massage table, or as I like to call it; the place where my perspective on life officially changed.
The table was wooden with brass trim and looked like it belonged in a medieval torture museum. Is was sunken in the middle with a slightly convex shape so that any liquid poured on it would run to the edge and then drain at the foot where a slit was cut for liquid to do exactly that. If anyone is asking why the table was designed like this, its because I was about to receive a hot oil massage.
They began (remember that there are two men in the room and I am leaving nothing to their imagination) by pouring hot oil in their hands and rubbing all over my head. Strange at first and even stranger after ten minutes and a sort of slapping motion begins. When my hair was completely saturated and my scalp was stinging the men asked me to lye on my back. This is where they used the first gallon of oil. They didn’t so much focus on one muscle at a time but rather did the whole of my arm and then moved on to my chest and stomach and then moved on to do my legs in their entirety. As if that wasn’t enough, after about 30 mins they had me flip over and then the real fun began. As I lay on my stomach the loin cloth was un-flapped and all those twenty fingers did what they were paid for from the bottoms of my feet to the base of my neck. Now, when I say every square inch of my back was rubbed with hot oil I mean EVERY SQUARE INCH!! Im pretty sure that somewhere along the line while I was on my stomach we passed the two gallon mark but I cant be completely sure. The pinnacle of the message was the grand finale. Up until the end each man was responsible for one side of my body and there was no team work involved. The grand finale, however, required quite a bit of coordination and could have only been pulled off by men who have had years of practice. Each man did the same pattern on my back starting at my heels and moving all the way up my leg. When the back was reached a circle was made and then he proceeded down my leg while the other man went up on the other side and made the same circle in the opposite direction. The speed and precision of these guys was both comforting and frightening all at the same time. Like two lumberjacks hacking at a tree except these men used hot oil instead of metal teeth and I was the poor sap in the middle.
When it was over I had enough oil on me to lube a formula one car and I could not bring myself to look the men in the eye(just kidding they were funny and making jokes with me). I took a shower, went back to the waiting area and almost fell asleep waiting for Diego. As I digested my experience I realized that some things in my life had changed forever. For example some analogies like; being as difficult to do as climbing a pole covered in Vaseline, will forever be; as difficult as getting off a wooden south Indian message table after a hot oil message. Like wise the dreams of doing things naked will forever be changed into doing things in an Indian hot oil massage loin cloth.
Now of course the inevitable question that defines so many new experiences. Would I do it again. Im afraid that this question has to be thrown into so many other unanswerable loaded questions like, How dumb are you or; Why are you such an idiot? They just cannot be answered without incriminating ones self. So having said that I will just say, it was quite an experience and I hope you all enjoyed reading about it. That’s all for now.
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Baby soft
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your massage experience :) . I bet your skin was baby soft. I also loved the picture too! Hope you are doing well. We check on you through the Sathers. Erin and Dan enjoyed having Kaitlin a couple of weeks ago. Take care of yourself and hurry home to us. warm regards, Kate