Murder By Massage!

The quality of alternative treatments Thai-style can vary considerably; but there's hardly cause to complain, given the prices! These start as low as 120 baht, or not much more than two euros, for one hour's Thai massage, a little more for oil. Take your pick, but for those accustomed to strict Western quality control standards, be prepared for a surprise. Thailand has a very flexible approach to such matters!…

Sunday July 6, late afternoon. Immediate misgivings when a burly masseuse erupted into the room. I have been to the Lanna massage centre several times, for no particular reason other than it is the closest to my home in Chiang Mai (capital of Northern Thailand). Choosing one establishment over another is a mix of convenience, experience, mood and personal preference… but despite spending most of the past nine months in this country, including 3 or 4 massages weekly, there can still be an element of luck involved .

I'd already opted for a 90 minute oil massage, and with one look at a massive pair of biceps, decided to make my needs very clear from the outset. I detailed my preferences; less pressure on the calf muscles, reasonably strong elsewhere. Whereupon ‘Nok’ proceeded to sink two extremely powerful thumbs into a sensitive area just above the Achilles tendon. “Jep!” I uttered between gritted teeth; “JEP!!” (literally ‘pain’, but in this context, ‘OUCH!’). Yet this only seemed to produce considerable amusement at the expense of my accent, as she determinedly journeyed further north up my leg with a barely discernable drop in pressure. Pinned to the floor by a thick forearm across the glutei maximi, a large knee began to add injury to insult, landing solidly mid-calf…

Despite her five foot nothing I reckon Nok outweighed me by at least an extra 20 kilos of muscle, topped by swathes of fatty, but firm flesh. The pain was just about within tolerance levels, so I opted to grimace and bear it. Lying face-down, I began to derive something of a masochistic pleasure from the relentless kneadings, and drifted off into semi-consciousness. Images of the robotic pincer arms from the Renault Picasso ad wandered through my mind; but the analogy didn’t quite pass muster, I mused, as Nok’s hands seemed to lack such finesse. Maybe one of the monster machines from a Caterpillar assembly line was more appropriate…

I was brusquely jolted out of my reverie as the attentions of the masseuse shifted to the thighs with redoubled enthusiasm. I realised, too late, that Nok had indeed been making a considerable effort over my calves; now she was back in her element, empowered by my previously given permission to perform a ‘firm’ massage elsewhere. Her earlier efforts were akin to being stroked by a feather duster in comparison. With a good 70 minutes remaining, not without difficulty, I began to drift off again, picturing myself turning up at A & E, complete with carefully prepared cover story; assault and battery by person or persons unknown…

“Kop kun kaaa” - (‘thank you’) – in a sexy, feminine voice that belied her appearance, announced the end of the torture session. I hadn’t cracked, and masculine pride only slightly dented, hoped I could leave with dignity just about intact. Nok, I suspected, knew better. Still, I was surprisingly reluctant to escape; despite feeling as if I had been repeatedly run over by one of Caterpillar’s larger models of earth-moving equipment. I tested various muscles, gingerly, but none seemed to be giving off major alarm signals. “Is ok?” asked Mama-san, the boss (a term not necessarily associated with sex-oriented establishments, I hasten to add). “Very good”, I lied, backing up my professed pleasure with a big smile and a 50 baht note tip for Nok. Reassured, Mama-san looked forward to seeing me tomorrow. I will definitely be in need of a massage to recover from today’s exertions, but I think a trip to a different establishment is on the cards…

I hobbled the 200 metres back home.

Fear not! Future first-time visitors to Thailand intent in indulging in the pleasures of the art of massage, Thai-style, can relax in the knowledge that overall, this is the place to be. Once you begin to understand how things work here (for those having spent a lifetime in the West, not an easy task…) then the (considerable) advantages can outweigh the (considerable) disadvantages. It’s a question of mindset. Resign yourself to initially rare insights into a mysterious Oriental logic, accept their down-to-earth fatalism at face value, learn to translate the different nuances of the smile as representative of everything from joy to extreme displeasure, don’t display your emotions (especially anger) in public, leave any notions of Western/Christian/Empire ‘superiority’ well behind you, respect their customs, beliefs and (occasionally incomprehensible) behaviour, and generally speaking, they will respond with a willingness to please that dwarfs anything you will have encountered back home. But back to massage…

Years ago I trained as a masseur in London, taking courses over the course of a year at the Churchill Centre off the Edgware Road (does it still exist?) Never something I took seriously as a commercial enterprise, but it certainly gave me an insight into the discipline; in particular what separates the good from the indifferent. Therapeutic massage, or massage for relaxation, depends on two things. Technique (obviously)… but less obviously, sensitivity. Sensitivity towards the mood, as well as the physical needs, of the subject. Without this sensitivity, technical skills are mostly wasted. Nok seemed to have been considerably lacking in intuitive awareness, but luckily she is in a small minority. Most Thais, although superficially prudish in public, have an earthy, unembarrassed physicality that allows those who enter the massage trade to quickly connect with the subject, establishing a rapport that makes your ninety minutes or two hours a blissful experience (tip: unless you are just having a foot/leg massage, don’t settle for a one hour full body massage – it’s just not enough time for the therapist to carry out the treatment properly, without hurrying. Ninety minutes is the minimum).

If you are not a very healthy contortionist (and let’s face it, most Westerners are seriously lacking in fitness and flexibility), then it is perhaps advisable to avoid starting with a Thai (as opposed to an oil) massage. Unless you have been recommended to a particular masseur or establishment, it can turn out to be a painful experience – especially if you don’t make it clear to the masseuse the instant you begin to fear for the integrity of your skeletal structure. Thais don’t understand stoicism in this context – they expect and understand that as you are paying for a service, you will tell them straight away if something is wrong, or if you have special requirements. They will not (unlike therapists trained in the West) ask you in advance if you have any previous injuries, health problems, contact lenses etc. that would affect how the massage is carried out. It’s one of those grey areas where such enquiries would be seen as an unwarranted intrusion of a personal nature (whereas asking you how much you earn, or how many children you have, is not).

So what of the less salubrious side to the massage business? Considerably less real than Thailand’s reputation in this respect would suggest, or sex tourists might hope to find, fortunately - particularly away from the main tourist areas, such as Pattaya. The great majority of establishments are bona fide treatment centres, Thai-style, employing masseuses who will quietly and efficiently demonstrate their skills with the utmost respect for your person. Relatively poor many may well be, but most do not seek to augment their income by alternative means. Still, it can and does happen; so for those who don’t want to chance this taking place, the best option is to ask for recommendations, or simply to pick one of the more upmarket establishments. These are outnumbered ten to one by the more ‘basic’ locales, complete with hole-in-the-ground loos, but are not hugely more expensive.

Hundreds if not thousands of massage parlours are dotted around the bustling city of Chiang Mai and its sprawling suburbs, and I have probably visited fifty or so since last September, some on a regular basis. Despite the above, the Lanna (in Sri Dornchai Road) is quite good usually... but bear in mind masseuses come and go on a regular basis. Watch this space for regular reports on other establishments!