An Awkward Experience in Goa, India.
India........A country that I always thought I would fit in because of its extreme modesty. Saris and oversized fabrics can hide a not so toned Buddha belly. Arms and shoulders are covered to avoid the unwanted glances by creepy men. Legs buried under many layers. And in some severe cases, many faces are hidden completely, except for the eyes.
Now, bring in the Traditional Kerala Massage.
Our first destination in India was to be a relaxing week on one of the beaches in Goa. My sisters decided to indulge and be pampered by having a massage at what appeared to be a reputable spa. They convinced me that I should try having one as well. I had never had one before, as I don't like to be touched by people I know, let alone a complete stranger. This time around, though, I vowed to be open about having one.
From the moment I walked into the room where the massage was to take place, I knew it was going to be a strange experience. My female masseuse told me to take off all of my clothes. I gasped, and asked her if she was serious, "You want me to take off everything?!?" "Yes, everything." Call me a prude. I don't like to be naked. I am uncomfortable with nudity. I can't even change in front of other women in a locker room, and here I was having to be in my birthday suit in front of a random woman, a complete stranger from a culture who can't even show her neck or ankles. I asked her if I could at least have a towel. She said I was ok without it.
The most uncomfortable part was that she didn't even turn around so that I could undress. I proceeded to sit on a chair where she began my massage by performing chop suey on my head. I had never felt so vulnerable or exploited in my life. I shed a tear or two, and tried my best to sit in a manner where I wasn't so exposed.
All, in all, she was a very professional masseuse, and it wouldn't have been so bad if I could have concentrated on the massage and not on my insecurities. My thoughts kept going back to "she is making fun of my thighs and my old man's butt." I was really uncomfortable about the fact that she had a full frontal view. In days that followed, I heard horror stories of what goes down in some massage parlours in India. Women being raped by men who trade places with masseuses at the end of their sessions, massage parlours turning out to be brothels, or massages being videotaped. I am just lucky that it didn't turn any uglier.
Oh, and by the way, I also learnt that nude massages are the norm in India because of the oils that they use.
India........A country that I always thought I would fit in because of its extreme modesty. Saris and oversized fabrics can hide a not so toned Buddha belly. Arms and shoulders are covered to avoid the unwanted glances by creepy men. Legs buried under many layers. And in some severe cases, many faces are hidden completely, except for the eyes.
Now, bring in the Traditional Kerala Massage.
Our first destination in India was to be a relaxing week on one of the beaches in Goa. My sisters decided to indulge and be pampered by having a massage at what appeared to be a reputable spa. They convinced me that I should try having one as well. I had never had one before, as I don't like to be touched by people I know, let alone a complete stranger. This time around, though, I vowed to be open about having one.
From the moment I walked into the room where the massage was to take place, I knew it was going to be a strange experience. My female masseuse told me to take off all of my clothes. I gasped, and asked her if she was serious, "You want me to take off everything?!?" "Yes, everything." Call me a prude. I don't like to be naked. I am uncomfortable with nudity. I can't even change in front of other women in a locker room, and here I was having to be in my birthday suit in front of a random woman, a complete stranger from a culture who can't even show her neck or ankles. I asked her if I could at least have a towel. She said I was ok without it.
The most uncomfortable part was that she didn't even turn around so that I could undress. I proceeded to sit on a chair where she began my massage by performing chop suey on my head. I had never felt so vulnerable or exploited in my life. I shed a tear or two, and tried my best to sit in a manner where I wasn't so exposed.
All, in all, she was a very professional masseuse, and it wouldn't have been so bad if I could have concentrated on the massage and not on my insecurities. My thoughts kept going back to "she is making fun of my thighs and my old man's butt." I was really uncomfortable about the fact that she had a full frontal view. In days that followed, I heard horror stories of what goes down in some massage parlours in India. Women being raped by men who trade places with masseuses at the end of their sessions, massage parlours turning out to be brothels, or massages being videotaped. I am just lucky that it didn't turn any uglier.
Oh, and by the way, I also learnt that nude massages are the norm in India because of the oils that they use.