This has been an interesting experience, this thru hike across Aotearoa.
I’ve seen interesting things. Tasted interesting things. Met interesting people. And had some interesting moments that caused my heart to thump.
The slide down the hill, that bounce on the mountain, the swing bridges, wasp sting on the neck, face plant on the beach.
These have been minor really in the scheme of things. Through it all, even when it felt sketchy, I’ve felt safe. Protected. A little bit of fear mixed with a whole lot of comfort and sense of safety.
Until today.
And today that fear came in the form of one of the tiniest women I have ever seen.
I had set up my tent at the camp ground and wandered into town for a meal.
I passed a sandwich board advertising pain relieving massage, open until 9.00pm! (so late! I’m in my sleeping bag by then!)
I wondered if I could get an appointment and nix Katie for a couple of days.
My sideways sway was getting worse. And when I mean sway, I’m not talking 1950’s femme fatale strolling along fifth avenue for an afternoon of shopping kind of sway.
No.
I’m talking Quasimodo lurching off to ring the bells of Notre Dame.
I quite like getting a massage. I like the therapeutic, this is probably going to hurt, type of massage.
I loathe soft, gentle, relaxing, not going to do a thing for me, spa type massage. What a waste of my time. :-)
Firm pressure only. And I know pride and arrogance are not commendable traits but they come to the fore when I’m on the table. I have never, ever asked a therapist to ease up. I could be face down, muscles knotted, teeth clenched and eyes teary and I still won’t seek relief and ask for lighter pressure.
Nope. Not me. I’m tough. I can take it!
Having said that, I don’t generally care what style of massage or type of therapist.
I’m fairly sanguine about it. I tend to think you get the massage and therapist you are meant to, at the time.
You know the saying?
Sometimes you get what you want and sometimes you get what you need?
Well folks, sometimes, sometimes, you just get what you get.
And this friends, is what I got, as faithfully recorded as possible. SH is me, ST is scary therapist...
I walk in to ask for that appointment.
This tiny woman comes out from around the reception desk and stares up at me.
SH. Hi I was wondering if there was an appointment available.
ST Stares. Says nothing.
SH . Um... you know? For a massage? (I am this articulate, yes)
ST You. You body. No good.
SH. ????
ST. (Leans forward, starts poking) no good body. Here. (Pinches belly roll) no good. Here. Here. And here. No. Here very good (punches fist on my thigh) strong. Big muscle. Here good (hits my bum!). The rest. phhh. No good. (Hands fly in air for emphasis.)
SH ????
ST. Some good. Some. Very. Bad. So. No good.
SH ah... ok. ( so if some parts are good, some parts very bad, I think she just gave me an overall score of... no good?)
ST. Massage. Yes you need. You walk very bad. Come now.
And right there, that was the moment the fear rose in my gut.
Leave. Just leave my head screamed but my no good, very bad body ignores me and just meekly follows the ST into a tiny room.
ST here. Clothes gone. Lie down.
SH so, do I keep anything on? Underwear?
ST....Silence. Stare.
SH. Ok. Clothes off, lie down. Right.
SH. Um. Is there a towel? Or ah.. like a covering or... Umm?
ST. Looks at me. And looks at me. Stalks to cupboard. Comes back and gives me a ... hand towel.
A hand towel.
I truly do not know what to do with the hand towel.
What is it supposed to cover? Which part?
Oh I don’t want to be here...arghhh. I’m a strong assertive woman! Get the heck out of Dodge!
So of course I strip off and lie down.
I just... hold... the hand towel.
The ST comes in to the room, takes the towel and... places it over my... head.
?
I feel a little like my grandson when he plays hide and seek by just hiding his head. If he can’t see me then obviously, I can’t see him.
It follows therefore, that If im lying naked on a table with a hand towel over my head, perhaps I’m not really there?
ST how long you want massage?
SH (no minutes actually. Like none. Please) um, half an hour?
ST no. You very bad. 60 minutes.
SH. Ok (very small voice)
And that was the start of a very very long ‘hour’ that was actually 90 minutes. (And don’t get me started on how THAT messed with my time perception)
It started with a massage machine on my back, hot rocks, elbows in my ribs, rigid fingers in my... places I’m not going to name but should have been therapist free regions, in my humble opinion.
I was stood on. Knuckled. Kneed.
The hand sweeps along my skin were so strong I think I got stretch marks.
And the slapping. Oh. The slapping.
There were tears.
Real ones.
Not just damp eyes. I mean drops and all! Contained in the privacy of my little hand towel face cave.
I was rolled. Pulled. Stretched. Bent.
I’m fairly sure that even fixed hardware, like my bones, were rotated
I lost track of time. Not in a good way. More the ‘this is my never ending reality now and time no longer matters’ kind of way.
Finally, with one last slap, on my head, it was over.
ST Was good, yes. (Said as a statement, not a question)
I felt.. I have no words. I just... felt...
I creaked off the table, hunched over like a 200 year old woman. Got dressed. Couldn’t tie my shoes. Nothing seemed to work.
I hobbled out to reception. Paid. Tipped her. (I know, oh I know.)
I staggered back to camp. Climbed into my bag.
Lay there.
Sat up. Rummaged through my bag. Found my small micro fibre towel.
And put it on my head.
Footnote
I slept like the dead. I was a little stiff the next day and sore for several more. But...I tell you. I hiked along like a boss!
Sometimes, sometimes you do actually get what you need.
댓글