the old-school guestbook archives
my amazon wish list... my favorite astrologer... my favorite artist... yerba mate revolution! erowid: a travel guide for interior journeys... no more war: MoveOn.org United for Peace and Justice True Majority seek the truth: Common Dreams Unamerican Activities The Nation people I adore, diaries I read: rev.raikes ariana cubiclegirl epiphany glitter333 laurakay wammo the music: the asylum street spankers backyard tire fire blue highway bill camplin wendy colonna freedom tribe joules graves guy forsyth band hamsa lila hanuman libby kirkpatrick leftover salmon pamela means medeski martin & wood the motet the nice outfit nickel creek open road rose polenzani railroad earth south austin jug band string cheese incident taarka tha musemeant the devil makes three tim o'brien band trolley wild sage keller williams yonder mountain string band |
the blind masseuse and my terrible french ~ February 8, 2003 - 5:35 p.m. I had my first traditional lao massage yesterday, and it was incredible. noemi took me to a little converted-garage of a massage house, which was very simple. pallets on the floor, newspaper on the walls. filled with light and air, though, from the open front wall and the ceiling fans gently whirling above. the masseuses there are blind. can I use your toilet? I asked one woman when we walked in. she smiled and said, slowly I'm sorry, I don't speak english, I speak french. the french, after all, having occupied this area once upon a time, when it was lumped together with vietnam and called indochina. ou est le toilette? I asked the woman, an noemi's eyes widened. you speak french? a little, I told her, my fingers held about half an inch apart. it was enough, though, enough so that I could communicate in bits and snatches with the french-speaking woman, who worked my body. j'ai une malade ici... c'est bon? oui, c'est bon... lao massage is all about pressure points. she seemed to hit every one, working her way over my whole body, pressing and releasing, pressing and releasing. she stretched me, she kneaded me, she even adjusted my spine. I felt fantastic when it was all done with, and the whole thing cost less than three dollars, even with a tip. I can afford to do this anytime I want to. why the hell is massage a luxury in the U.S.? here it's affordable and everywhere. one of the many things I will miss like hell when I leave this place. noemi also took me to an herbal sauna. fifty cents, to steam and cool as many times as you like, and all the herbal tea you can drink. I missed the hot tubs of kiva, but it was still a wonderful way to treat my worked muscles. my shoulder feels better than it has since the accident. a few more treatments like that, and I think I'll be just fine. after steaming ourselves, the two of us headed off for a huge dinner, both of us being ravenous. me and noemi talk and talk and talk. we laugh a lot. noemi has a dream of working in america. I told her I'd try to help... in spite of everything, I do think that america is something to see. and she's an incredible woman, hard-working and thoughtful, educated and intelligent, fluent in both english and tagalog. I think she could find something in san francisco. I'm going to help her try. it's a dream, after all. I know how those are...
(((rings))) |