It may seem strange to believe but until yesterday I had not had a massage for about twelve years, since I received free massages when I worked for PMI doing data entry there. Despite over a year in Thailand, I was not very quick to go to the Thai massage places that are rather thick on the ground, as I’m not the sort of person who is very sketchy when it comes to my interest in the local population, and because I’m not the sort of person who generally enjoys going out alone, which limits opportunities for going out at all. At any rate, one of the teachers here at Legacy is going home today, and yesterday was a good opportunity for some “bro time,” so he and I went out to Chiang Mai to get massages and then have lunch before I had to rush back to the school to do some errands (including violin shopping for my boss).

I have not done very much exploring within the old city of Chiang Mai itself, which consists of some ancient walls inside of a moat, but the place where we were going (and which I had never seen) was inside of it, so I had to use my native sense of direction to find the three king’s monument before my fellow teacher (who had been there before) could guide us to the correct place through a small alleyway. The massage parlor was certainly of the highest order, as it trains female inmates job skills and provides excellent massages (more on that shortly) for very reasonable prices (an hour and a half massage costs about $9). Given the mistaken impressions that people often have of Thai massages or the people who would go get one, I thought it worthwhile to write a little about my own experiences to provide a better sense of balance.

Like Thai buildings in general, at the outside entrance of the building one takes off one’s shoes and puts on some slippers, and then once inside one goes to a changing room, puts on some farmer’s pants and a loose-fitting shirt (I had green pants and a yellow shirt for myself), and puts ones regular clothes in a locker. Then, after changing, there is a footwashing ceremony (very, very similar to the footwashing ceremony at a Passover) where the masseuse washes the feet of the customer before they go into a room for the massage. In this room are a variety of matresses (not terribly soft) on the floor with curtains in between that can be drawn for privacy if needed (not the case here). Before the actual massage begins there is a cup of hot tea (not as sweet as I would prefer) provided to each customer as well, and placed on a small platform at the foot of the bed, as there are a couple of low steps up from the entrance of the room to the level of the beds.

To be honest, I did not picture a massage as being so painful, but I found the Thai massage to be quite a bit more painful and uncomfortable than I had imagined. Some of this is for rather personal reasons I care not to discuss, but a great deal of it was because many of my muscles are simply not used to being stretched in such a fashion as they were yesterday morning. The amount of scrunching of muscles, hitting, stretching, and assorted other actions was a bit more painful and complete than I had imagined (never having had a long massage before). The masseuse spent most of her time on the legs and feet, though she also worked on the back and arms and neck and head as well. Everything done was appropriate, and she and the masseuse who was working on my coworker were quite a gossipy lot.

I did a lot of thinking and reflecting while I was having my massage, as I was unable to communicate with my masseuse because of the massive language barrier. I reflected on how much a masseuse could read of one’s stressful lives in the tension of one’s muscles and joints, why massages were so rare for me, and how certain actions of mine made have made others feel. I reflected on the need to do more stretching exercises myself (that will have to be something to add to my own library and practice) so that I can feel loose and less stiff in my joints. I also reflected on the fact that though the massage hurt, it was the good sort of pain that makes one feel ultimately better and more relaxed. Not all pain is evil–some pain is necessary to lead to good in the future, and as the sort of person who has (perhaps more than most people) had to feel this sort of pain and suffering, I am quite sensitive to its appearance in all parts of my life. I am not sure if most people are as philosophical as I am when it comes to such matters, but I take it as an occupational hazard. I do not think it will be twelve years before I get my next massage though. I hope not, at least.