Chinky

08/08/06

"China Part 3"

Click here to start from the beginning.

Day 2; The Massage Parlor
Let me say this real quick right off the bat. I did not get a happy ending at the massage parlor. The reason for this is because of several reasons and I will list them to you in order of the amount of deterrence it was for me from lowest to greatest. Reason #1 my father was there. Reason #2 my mother was there. Reason #3 my grandmother was there. Reason #4 when I explained what a happy ending was to her, my mother didn’t approve very much. Reason #5 the final reason, mutha fucka would have cost me 888 RMB which is about $111. Sorry, no happy ending from some stranger is worth more than $100. If waves formed, mountains crumbled and magic shot from my dick it might be worth an extra $50.
Now that that’s out of the way, and the excitement is dwindled let’s get back to real life. In real life I noticed that there was a massage place in the hotel we were staying at I decided to get a head massage for a measly 10 RMB. When I told my mom this she said she wanted a foot massage and offered to treat all of us to one as well. Well, I’ve never had a foot massage before so I figured, what the hell. It’s got to be pretty interesting; might make a good story.
They put us in this room with a couple of tv’s and reclining sofa chairs. If you’ve ever seen "Rush Hour 2" it’s just like that room where they have the fight only a little smaller. So we sit down and they bring us a bucket that looks like it’s been blended with some sort of black death. It’s hot as hell too. I know this because my grandmother kept saying that over and over again. I’ve been walking for days carrying shit so I couldn’t give a damn how hot the liquid black death was I was just happy to not be carrying anything and sitting.
While our feet soaked in the liquid shit black death someone comes over and gives us a back rub. My girl is skinny but curvy, a slight "butter face" and she’s wearing a modest low cut shirt and "skorts." All this information is actually pretty important later on. Well, everything except for the butter face comment. This poor little girl is supposed to give me a back rub while this only slightly bigger, slightly more built guy takes my dad. It’s China, they don’t make them real big. I start to think that maybe they should have given me the guy but that idea quickly slips as the one I got is the most pleasant to look at of all the masseuses currently working.
So this poor girl is giving me a back massage and we both decide that it’s not really working. So she just starts throwing bows into my back and I’m just yelling for more every time. She does nearly everything just slight of running straight into me with her elbow. This continues with the shoulders, arms and hands until our feet are apparently done soaking in the liquid shit black death sauce and the actual foot massage starts. Our feet are removed and cleaned off. They are lobster red but I just had such a grand time watching this girl try to beat the crap out of me that I didn’t really care.
After the foot is cleaned an oil/weird substance mixture is applied to the foot and the massage begins. Now, I’m on a reclining sofa chair with my feet on an ottoman and someone mostly cute is squatting down right in front of me. This is where the low cut shirt and "skort" becomes relevant. Remember this girl is mostly hottie and sorry but I can’t seem to find her face any where. My eyes are entrenched on her "skort." I keep putting "skort" in parenthesis because I believe it was a skirt with built in shorts albeit the shortest, laciest, shorts that have ever come attached to a skirt, but it was attached... I think.
So I’m enjoying the view while my foot’s getting rubbed. It’s nice but I don’t get why it’s as big of a deal as it is. Then she starts to move up, first to the calf and then to my thigh. I start to sweat a little and look around as if to say, "look my family is right here and I do not want to pay you 800 RMB for you to expose me in front of my parents." She didn’t though. Apparently it’s just part of the routine. Apparently during a foot massage you’re supposed to be exposed to barely covered naughty parts and be touched and rubbed against everywhere. Ok, maybe I can see why this is such a big deal. An hour of this for about $13 USD seems like a great deal.
 

Day 3

The morning of day 3 I hurt like hell. Apparently being beat up by a wee asian girl for an hour may be real entertaining while in progress but one will feel it in the morning. Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled "harder" the last dozen times or so.
The places we went to that morning were around the city. We went to places that I saw the previous night with my dad’s old childhood friend that was frankly better at night. The people around were cuter then too.

After walking around the city and being constantly harassed by people trying to sell stuff we went to a store that sold expensive jade. Jade really comes in two forms; "dead jade" and "alive jade." Each has its own fake versions. The place sold "alive jade" which means 2 things. One, the jade will change over time depending on how it’s worn and two, it’s expensive. Deathly expensive. Fuck college expensive. Of course my mom is going nuts. So is my dad, but for a different reason.

At some point we eat a someplace that wasn’t really memorable and wander around another place with a bunch of tea that is equally forgettable and we head to the airport. We’re flying to a place called "Dali." I’ve never heard of it before but it’s a pretty famous place in China. The flight is delayed and I’m tired. It takes every once of what’s left of me to stay awake to look after the expensive stuff I’m carrying with me. I hate shopping.

The plane lands and we board. These seats don’t hurt like hell and I decide to get some rest. It seemed like I just closed my eyes before the stewardess tells me to straighten up my seat because they’re serving drinks. I ask for water and don’t bother drinking it before I close my eyes again and get woken up because the plane landed and it’s time to get off. Shit. I had so quickly fallen off into R.E.M. sleep that I am utterly groggy and discombobulated.

We have dinner at the hotel we’re staying at and I couldn’t give a damn about what it was that we were eating. I just wanted to go to sleep. My desire for sleep was so great that I completely did not notice how lovely this hotel was. The whole time I just cursed at it for making my room so unapproachably far away. What I did notice was that the bed, while still firm, was the softest I had ever had in China. I slept at 11p.m. that night and it was like resting on the softest of bosoms.