Couples' Massage

I think that everyone who comes through Vietnam has some sort of massage story--good, bad, or indifferent. Sometimes the massages here are great, sometimes they are awkward, sometimes they take place under shady and sad female exploitive circumstances which as an upstanding world citizen you must avoid like the plague. Dan, Scott’s good friend who came to Vietnam last September, wrote about his harrowingly awkward massage experience on his blog here.

I personally am not a big massage person. I never had one until I was 22 years old, and then I cried throughout the whole thing. I’m not kidding; I wept like a baby and freaked out the masseuse. Something about the pressure points in my shoulders and the knots of tension housed there.... However, the recent stress of getting cornered by motorbikes and surviving meals of chicken innards lovingly prepared by my students in a power outage (i.e. I couldn’t see what I was eating) forced me to NQ spa in Hanoi this weekend to see if I could release some of my deep rooted, though somewhat understandable, tension.

The spa came recommended by my fave hotel, Rising Dragon 2. This made me feel more comfortable and assured that the spa was not simply a brothel in disguise; while our “ending” would hopefully be joyful, I trusted that it would not be “happy.” I went with Sofia, a fellow Fulbrighter. The spa was down a little dark alley, which was also home to some lovely stray chickens. When we went in they looked thrilled to see us and gave us tea; I always appreciate such gestures. They asked Sofia and I what treatments we wanted (Body Massage and manicure/pedicure, please) and then led us upstairs. They took us into a room where there were two beds very close together, and then told us in broken English, “Get all naked but underwear and lie down.”

No robes. No screens. No privacy. Turns out we had booked a couples’ massage, without the romance. It’s times like this that my maturity fails me, and I let out an awkward giggle as I did as I told, with Sofia doing the same beside me and the two young Vietnamese women standing about 3 feet away watching.

I don’t have a problem with being naked or naked people. I actually really like to draw naked people. (See exhibit A. Sorry most don’t have heads. It's not a statement; I just need to work on drawing faces...).

But really I’m a private person, and I found it a little uncomfortable.

Luckily, my self consciousness lessened once the massage started because it was indeed really great. Of course, sometimes it was still a little strange. We were two naked white girls lying beside each other with two small Vietnamese girls in pajamas sitting on our backs, whacking us with their hands in such a way that it sounded like simultaneous whoopee cushions letting out. The masseuses would also talk to each other in Vietnamese from time to time. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I’m 99% sure my masseuse said I had fat thighs.

Despite the distractions, I came out of the massage pretty relaxed. It ended when the cell phone of a third Vietnamese woman who had a slipped in the room (to watch?) went off to the tune of some R&B song I had never heard. That’s Vietnam for you...

In other news, my manicure was good. I went with a light pink color, which Sofia nicknamed “Pretty Pretty Princess.” It sparkles. :)