Tuesday, February 26, 2008

The Blind Massage aka The Painful Lesson

For no real reason, I associate blindness with mystical power. Backflips, telepathy and such. Maybe it's because every martial arts movie made between 1971 and Infinity features a sightless old guy that can regulate on everyone. Actually, that's exactly why. There.

ANYWAY, when Chris and I came upon a school-for-the-blind-slash-massage-spa in downtown Ho Chi Minh City, I imagined the perfect massage: precise, powerful and just a little bit magic. Plus, if your masseuse is blind, how shady can the massage be? "Two, please."

What did 3 dollars buy us? An hour of painful, horribly off-the-mark back torture. I kept thinking, "it's supposed to be like this right?" He pounded my spine. He slapped my head. Was that a noogie? I think he punched my kidney!! Wait a minute. Did we just get conned?

"No," said Chris. "We just let blind guys give us massages."


Colleen said...

i can't stop laughing. seriously. make it stop. no don't.

also it's totally great they have that handicapped symbol for blind people on the word verification. like, good luck finding it, but if you do you get to send your comment!

Beverly said...

mysticism hurts.

Woods said...

Daredevil is blind, and he's a good lawyer.

Ctown said...

unbeknownst to you, you guys just starred in a crazy asian hidden camera show.

Anonymous said...

I just came back from this same massage ... you didn't exaggerate at all. Please, guys, don't go there.

Anonymous said...

You people are the seriously ignorant, the type of wankers we see everywhere eating hamburgers and fries, with your mobiles glued to your ears and tour laptops to your brains. Get a life or stay at home, you dirty the streets. Michael

Anonymous said...

Perhaps you shouldn't expect to have masseuses fluent in English for 3 dollars? If you had given them some indication about your discomfort, they would have been receptive to your needs.

Luckily, I speak the language. Both times they asked me to let them know if it is too hard or too soft. They asked me if I need oil. The beauty in understanding the language is the fact that I understand their conversation. Yes it is noisy and not as quiet as a five star massage place. Yet they spoke about their fun time, their normal life and sometimes I question if they are blind. They never talked about fat Americans like the Canadians or Europeans do, your huge bodies for the same price as a tiny Oriental. They talk about their children, what they cooked for them. They talk about what is selling in the market that they find so delicious. It is way moere interesting than the 'normal' Vietnamese crowd in the street that complain and swear like an american.

I have so much respect for these blind people who make themselves useful to the society and earn their living. They are not on welfare. If they don't meet your needs, be still respectful for their shortcomings, which compared to yours, are just minute.

I always leave with a big tip, hoping that when I leave the country, someone will do the same instead of coming for a bargain and insulting people for your illiteracy. You come to their country. You learn their language and then you can discuss as an equal.