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Category Archives: on da road – borneo

You’d think I’d have learned my lesson in Hungary… (see prior post) but alas, in terms of travel catastrophes I am indeed a slow learner…

and thus it was on my “recent” trip to the wild rainforests of Borneo (further blog to follow…eventually… heck, it’s only taken me 2 months and a dire cold keeping me home bound enough to get to this one…)  I found myself again seduced by the allure of the humble massage table…

it all actually started in Singapore, innocently enough…

When my natural enthusiasm for being out and about exploring, coupled with my insane backpacker tight arse-ness, saw me walking the streets of Singapore for what may have turned out to be a few hours too many…

I mean, seriously… how is one supposed to stop and realise the slight niggling in ones back is an indication to slow down when there is adventure at stake??!! surely instead it means stuff more camera lenses into an already over-crammed shoulder bag, slung jauntily and haphazardly over one shoulder (mistake number one… while walking NEVER carry all your goods on just ONE shoulder…) and push your body further!!!

Surely that dull ache running down the entire side of your body currently leaning (Pisa tower-escque) is a sign to push harder…that 40 degrees and 100% humidity does not mean catch the train but does in fact mean walk god damnit you tight arse, lose those kilos… sweat it out…

and surely… finding oneself and one’s entourage lost in a dodgy part of “little india” doesnt mean accept defeat and hail a moderately priced taxi” no! it means press on…and get further lost until at last you find some poor school girl (who may or may not think you are stalking her) and ask for directions to walk FURTHER to find how the heck to get out… and when said school girl gaffaws at your requests for walking directions and instead leads you to a bus stop… you catch said bus to the nearest botanical garden and walk some more damnit!

and thus it was… after some glorious days spent “relaxing” in singapore i arrived, a little the worse for wear at the start of my Borneo jungle hiking adventure…

now at this point, the sheer fact that i was unable to bend, lift or even walk further than about 10 metres (and dont even talk to me about stairs) really did force me into a corner… for the plan of this adventure was, after our relaxing mini break in the hotel luxury of singapore..we would then encounter some floor sleeps, jungle stops and camping craziness while we trekked in search of the fabled dick-nose monkey…

so now… with my back truly frozen into a state of permanent curved paralysis even i had to admit that intervention may have been needed…

and so, whilst hobbling, grimacing, through the bustling markets i stumbled upon a small, dusty alley way… the kind of alley way where cats fear to tread and the dark shadows you glimpse sneaking around are best not questioned but merely accepted as part of the appeal that only dark alleys can give… In my eyes, the kind of alley way just perfect for medical intervention…

so off the beaten path, out of the light of neon, away from the familiar sounds of tourism i stumbled upon my little tin door with a picture of a foot and those tell tale signs that look like a masseuse may just work there. perfect. a foot massage… nthing can possibly go wrong with a foot massage. right?

and what’s more? despite myself, relief at finding an english “speaker” perhaps, i find myself agreeing to a full body hour long massage extravaganza… not just the safety of the foot…

i hear your fear to read on… but i assure you… for once… things actually went my way…

as they found a sumo sized chinese lady to come and pummel me…

i was pretzelled.

i was stretched.

i was quite literally punched and yes i did actually bruise.

she did walk on me. kick me and press her man hands so damned hard into me back that i thought i might actually have made an indent in the rather cheap and flimsy little stretcher table…

but an hour later… despite feeling as though i had just lost a round against the rock i emerged… able to walk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

a miracle.

a back street tin shed, man handed, sumo-sized chinese lady miracle!!!!!

and that’s where it all went wrong…

for you see, miracles, like lightning, do not strike twice…

and so, a few days later… after our first jungle trek and wrestle with the cheeky macaque monkeys i retraced my steps through the windy backstreets, down the dusty alley ways and into the same dark, dingy, tin shed… to plea, once more for mobility to be returned to my body…

man hands of course identified the return of my flabby westerner white flesh and gave me the customary nod and leer as she looked up from a pummelling of some other unidentified poor sole… and motioned me once more behind the seedy mismatched curtains to disrobe and lay, naked, vulnerable, awaiting my fate… i of course complied…

down to the bare white flesh… my modesty compelled me to keep my knickers on and i tentatively clambered onto the wobbly work bench and lay, waiting, my face in the hole, staring to the floor in search of the tell tale feet beneath me..

the curtains screech open, a cold draft brushes over me, i shiver into the cheap, stiff, probably unwashed, sheets that adorn the table top. feet. thank goodness they’re girls feet… shuffling along in that little penguin waddle, bright red toenails and worn out rubber flip flops… but are they the same feet? i fear to turn and see… for as i muster the courage to look up i feel my bra being undone in one fowl movement and i am now lying, helpless, pressed into the grungy sheets, praying for this to be man hands…

and as the oil is upended all over my back and the first point of contact between hands and body begins i realise, almost instantly, with the softenss of touch, that this is indeed not my pretzel-lady…

i press my body further into the sheets for protection from the soft little flutter of fingers now dancing over my back.. and hold my breath as she works her way down towards the pant line…

my muscles ache from stiffness of being held so tight so as to stop the hands from completing a full circumference of my body with every stroke. and my breath draws to a near stop as the truthful moment arrives… she’ll stop, she’ll stop… she has to stop…

she doesnt stop.

i lie on the table. stiff, frozen in dismay as all 100 cm of ass receive the same gentle treatment as the back.

in my head i am screaming. I DON’T WANT MY BUM MASSAGED

in my mind i am turning around, whilst somehow still being covered and ordering her to stop… but in reality i am merely clenching my butt cheeks soo hard that she feels they need more attention.

i am defeated…and at last she leaves my bottom alone and resumes her work on my back… then my sides… wait.. stop… dont go down the sides so low… stay away from me… i press myself further into the table.. trying to protect what few areas havent been caressed… i dont like this! this is not helping my back! this is making me more sore as i tense and clench every single muscle at the awkwardness of having an all over body caressing massage by some little chinese grandmama fully dawns on me…

there is no pretzel. there is no being pulled, no being stretched, no pummelling, no thumping, no pounding… just the sensation that i am lovingly being basted in oil to be cooked by the witch in the gingerbread house.

and then the saga worsens…

roll over comes the hand signal… uh uh shakes the head.

a gentle nudge another signal and i find myself (clutching the sheets) reluctantly rolling over…

i motion to my back and make faces to indicate the pain is in my back. her smile gives nothing away as she nods and simply starts massaging my shoulders.

shoulders, collarbone… but i can not relax. in my heart i feel the sinking feeling of knowing just where this is going until sure enough. yup. there it is. a breast massage.

every muscle in my body is now as stiff as a soldier doing a royal salute as i kindly move her hands back to my shoulders… which surrenders her to chuckles and she continues working south.

LET ME OUT OF HERE! i scream in my head. but i am wearing nought but my undies and covered in what i am now convinced may well be cooking oil and at the complete whim of the softest little old lady with bright red toenails this side of shanghai.

she takes the hint eventually… and my chest is finally left alone…

but instead she now works her way to my STOMACH! yes, my stomach…

if i thought being lovingly violated was enough to send me into inner metldowns… noone EVER rubs my stomach without DIRE consequences! add to that the week’s worth of jungle foods my already volatile digestive system was struggling to reckon with…

poke poke, press press, rub…

squeeze butt cheeks tighter..

gurgle gurgle goes stomach

poke poke, press, press, rub…

gurgle, gurgle… squeeeeeeeze..

OH GOD I NEED THE TOILET NOW!!!!!!!!

poke, poke, press, press, rub..

why is she doing this to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i can bear it now more…

my back still paralysed, my body aching from being held so tense and tight during the violation, still half covered in oil, bra still undone i sit bolt upright, grab the sheet and make a universal face that can only be understood as GET ME TO THE TOILET NOW!

she laughs a wicked little laugh.. motions out the back… and shuffles away in her little flip flops… red toenails laughing like the wide open mouths of a carnival clown as she moves off.

armed with clothes i flee… just in a nick of time.

my belly, pressed in places it had never been pressed before, awakened like a dragon… my back no better, my chest wary and timid of strangers, my legs, oily, with sheet residue stuck to my unshaven forest of hair.

i dress.

i am speechless.

it is over.

and i emerge to see my hubby returned from his shopping spreee. looking at me, quizically, smiling at my apparent disarray. he is bemused.

and we escape, into the balmy humid eve… me limping, just that little bit more than before, into the dark alleyways and in search of our next adventure…

oh yes… my back may be no better… but adventure we came for… and adventure i was determined to have…

so folks…  next time you see your darling grandmama… see her wrinkled skin and soft smile… just imagine how you’d react if she started oiling you up in ways  more than you had bargained for!

hugs to you, in whichever corner of the world this finds you.

L

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