There are many things in China that are much cheaper than they would be at home. Unfortunately, along with the price, the quality also drops quite drastically. I’m already over the “cheap” craze because well, what’s the point if it’s just going to break, rust, or completely fall apart the next week? And, also very cheap are the clothes. The clothes which don’t fit me. Not even kind of. I went to the western shopping area and the largest size in jeans I was able to find was the equivalent of a size 6 in America. I think I’d go into organ failure before I would ever fit into a size 6. Anyway, massages are one thing that are cheap, and well, decent. I went for my first a few weeks ago at a large spa just a stone’s throw away from my apartment. It’s a large spa that my roommate had already been to and had suggested I try. Her and another colleague of mine told me a little about it. I was prepared for a spa experience slightly different from a western spa, but I was no where near prepared for the true experience I was about to have. Upon entering the locker room, the spa provides you with a t-shirt and shorts to wear. Before they even handed them to me, I was already dreading the miniscule “one size fits all” outfit they were about to give me. Unfortunately, this was my only option. The top wasn’t horrendous, but the shorts were so tight around my thighs, I was nervous to take any more than a baby step, for fear they’d split right down the crack on me. I couldn’t walk normal, but instead I hobbled my way through the locker room and up the stairs to the next “section” of the spa. This is where you can relax; have a drink, watch some TV, smoke, do as you please. The spa is a co-ed spa, and this is the area that is open to everyone. Weird, but okay, whatever. Then, I was sent into the elevator to go up to the floor with the woman masseuses. All throughout this experience thus far, I’ve been escorted everywhere I go. From the front desk to the locker room, she waited for me/watched me change, took me up the stairs, then another woman in the elevator, then yet another woman from the elevator to my private room. I felt like an undercover celebrity of some sort needing to be rushed through the public areas all hush-hush. Then, the woman opens the door for me, and leads me into a small, private room that looks more like a Motel 8 than a spa. This room was about 12 ft x 15 ft with a flat screen TV, a large bed, and 2 night tables in it. Honestly, the classic hotel room all unfaithful couples check-in to on a Monday afternoon in the movies. I suddenly felt as if they’d pushed the wrong button on the elevator and had taken me to a brothel rather than a spa. This was my first experience in a Chinese spa, so I wasn’t sure what to think; whether this was normal or whether I had a right to feel as weirded out as I did. As I waited for the masseuse to come in, I noticed a small circular window on the door; just big enough to take a peek in as you walk by. Sitting uncomfortably in my shorts that are about to split, looking around, taking it all in, I just began to laugh. You must be kidding me. She’s going to give me a massage on this bed? How do I lay down? Where do I lay down? What exactly do I do? I’ll just sit here. And wait. In walks the tiniest, skinniest, little Chinese woman/girl I’ve ever seen. Pleasant, but teeny. She tries to talk to me and discovers rather quickly that I understand just about zero of what she’s saying to me. I say in my broken Chinese that I don’t understand and that I speak very little Chinese. So she gives me the universal, pointer finger “wait a minute” sign and walks out. Again, alone in the creepy massage room. She comes back, pulls back the bedspread on the bed, and asks me to lie down. On my back? On my stomach? What exactly are you going to do to me? I lay down on my back, as if I’m going to go to sleep, and she sits down on the edge of the bed, takes one leg, and asks if I want the TV on. Ha. No thanks. So we sit in silence. She massages my leg in some odd fashion and stares at me. Luckily, she was pleasant, and tried to teach me a little Chinese, so I wasn’t as creeped out by her as I was the Spa she worked in. Then, abruptly, she stops and wants me to completely switch positions, lay on my stomach, and with my head at the other end of the bed. It made no sense, but I followed her grunting and pointing and did as I was told. For a back massage, this really wasn’t all that bad, except for the fact that I was laying on a pillow that smelled like the Holiday Inn, in a large, uncomfortable hotel bed, with a tiny Chinese woman sitting on me. After all was done, she led me back out toward the elevator, where there were now numerous men sitting, smoking, and waiting their turn, yelling at me. She pointed me toward the elevator and walked the other direction where all the other women were, filling out their paperwork at what looked like a hotel bar. They were all dressed in the shortest, baby pink mini skirts that could be considered a skirt before I’d just call it fancy underwear with a top barely reaching their belly button, all standing together at this bar as if they were cocktail waitresses at a strip club rather than masseuses at a spa. I took the elevator as quickly as I could, went back to the eating/drinking/smoking area where I then noticed something I hadn’t seen before. There, with about 20 men in reclining, leather chairs, was a dark room in which you could watch a private TV, relax, smoke, and do whatever you pleased for as long as you please. These spas are really meant to be a hang out for the day if you want them to be. Seeing all these old, gross Chinese men hanging out in their robes, all stretched out and reclining with a cigarette hanging out of their mouth was disgusting and creepy enough to make me take a quicker step down the stairs and back into the ladies locker room. I’ve never quite had the heebie-jeebies like I did in this place. I honestly felt like there was a lot more going on in this place than what it looked like on the surface. The way the women dressed and the men hung out, there had to be something going on that I didn’t know about. I didn’t buy this whole spa cover up. I’m sure I was in some sort of brothel. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the massage that ruined this experience. The massage itself was okay, decent at best, but not bad enough to make me run out of there. It was all the before and after that now makes me cringe every time I leave my apartment and am forced to walk by this place.
In talking with my roommate after the fact, she responded, “oh yeah, they have beds, not massage tables. Yeah, I guess it is a little weird. Well, maybe I’m a bit naïve. You really think there’s more going on there?” This all coming from the 26-year old Polish girl who’s lived in China for 9 months. And that’s all the heads-up she could give me before going to that place? C’mon!
Last weekend, I decided to test my luck again in the ‘Spas of China’! They often have spas that are men or women only, and we attempted to go to one of these, hoping it’d be a little less creepy. Unfortunately, the one we knew had closed without us noticing and we were again walking along the street looking for a new one. There was a spa about 10 mins from our apartment that Agnes had seen before, so we headed there to test our luck. This little old woman greeted us upon walking in and communicated with us to the best of her ability about what they had to offer. We didn’t have much to go on, but decided to try the 45 minute massage, rather than the 90 minute massage just in case it was unbearable. When another man came into the room, we somehow understood that he was telling us that only one of us could go at a time. Agnes offered, almost too quickly, to wait for me. Of course you’d send me back there first. With a huff and a puff and an eye roll, I agreed. While walking through the beads hanging down in front of the doorway, I yelled over my shoulder, “if you hear any screams, please come get me!” She laughed, but I wasn’t really joking.
Upon entering the room, I almost kneeled down and thanked the gods above that there, in front of me, was a massage table. Like the real table with a hole it in for your face and all. The woman came in, used some fancy oils and incense to set the mood a bit, turned on a space heater (because no other heating exists in these parts of China), got out real massage oil, and behaved in the way a masseuse should. I was so grateful to have a nice, professional, relaxing massage, on a table made for massages, in an atmosphere that didn’t include half-naked, old, smoking Chinese men yelling after me. As I was paying and saying thank you, I attempted to the best of my ability to say “Incrediblel! Amazing! Thank you! I’ll be back!” I think they got the point, and I went on my way. To this spa I will return!
Undiscovered Sunsets 