Rub it in

It's been an interesting few weeks of new experiences.. In the last month or so I've gone to a solo jazz performance (Brad Meldhau in Vicar Street. It was good but I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I'd known beforehand that I wouldn't have to pay for my ticket - cheers Steve!), tested a ridiculous foot detoxifier thing (still not feeling any cleaner or better for it), paid to have my hair cut and styled by a professional using scissors as opposed to the usual wash & buzz I've been getting for years (nobody noticed the difference by the way. Bastards!) And as discussed elsewhere I gave blood for the first time recently. Incidentally I got my blood donor's card in the post the other day - my type is A RhD Positive. I'm happy with that - it sounds good. I like to think of it as 2 letters better than a PhD. And positive is good, isn't it? My blood is the glass half full variety. I don't think I could have chosen better if I had the chance.

Anyway, to that ever-growing list came another new experience last Friday. Before heading away to Cork and Tipperary for the weekend I went out to Clonee for my first massage. I've never really had an opinion about massages but a quick poll amongst friends revealed many differing opinions. Some swear by them while others can't get with all the touching and rubbing and revert to flinching wrecks at the first chance (I've always been a bit of a flincher, myself). But I had an opporunity to get one, it was costing me nothing (and unlike the jazz gig, I knew it was costing nothing before I took anything off) and I didn't see why I shouldn't give it a go. The closest I've ver come to getting a massage before was in Peru 2 years ago after Steve and I had walked the Inca Trail. There were lots of establishments in Cusco offering us all kinds of treatments and, ahem, relief packages (or should that be package relief) but we never got around to going. I think we were half worried that when they finished with us, they'd offer us a little something extra to send us home with a smile on our faces. Of course we were also half worried that when they finished they wouldn't offer us the same deal but let's not dwell on that..

So, the massage. Well first of all there was a questionnaire. Of course there was. You can't do anything anymore would someone asking you if you have Herpes or Diabetes or warts or Lumbago.. I think I liked the Blood people's questions a bit more. They suggested a life of irresponsibility and wreckless living, as opposed to one of chewed fingernails and acne. Give me unsafe sex with a hooker in Uganda instead of mangey skin every time. Although perhaps one leads to the other.. In any event, I think I fibbed on most of the questions. I didn't see what any of it had to with giving me a massage so I had some fun with it before moving on to the glossy magazines lying around the place..

When it was my turn, a pretty lady, I think it was Tracy, let me into a small room, handed me a towel and told me take my shirt off, lie face down on the table and put the towel over me. She said she'd give me a few minutes and left the room. I immediately saw a flaw and my mind started racing.. If I'm lying face down on a bench, how am I going to cover myself with the towel? And if my back is covered, is she going to massage me under the towel? Or over it? Surely not. And if I'm not covering my back, what am I covering? Am I supposed to be completely naked? Perhaps. But who wants to get that wrong? I didn't want Tracy coming in to find me lying face down in the altogether. Actually at this stage it had been so long since she left that I started to imagine Tracy coming back in with me in mid climb. Naked. Jesus - how can something so simple become so complicated? In the end I lay down on the bench with the towel by my side and waited for Tracey to come back and sort me out. In fact the towel was supposed to be tucked the towel into my jeans. I guess to stop the oils and whatnots from going where they weren't wanted..

Once she came back and started, I relaxed into it a little bit and let my face fall through the little hole in the bench. I was surprised to see when I looked through the hole that they had put a candle on the floor. Is that strange? I mean there was about a hundred candles in the room, I really didn't need to see another one. Then I got thinking that it wouldn't have killed them to put a newspaper or magazine on a stool under the hole. My arms could fit under the bench - I could have read while Tracy did her thing. Would that have been rude? I mean I was told it's a compliment if you fall asleep during a massage. Is it an insult if you do the crossword? I can't imagine she'd have minded.

A quick word about the massage itself. Well, it was wonderful. I loved the whole experience. It took me a while to get used to what was going on - as I said I'm a bit of a flincher - but once I settled into it I was loving it. I had a Reiki session before and while I didn't manage to shut off completely during the massage the way I did during Reiki, it was still blissfully relaxing. I lay there, chilling out, enjoying the peace and quiet and thinking about colleagues and friends who were rushing about their Friday business while I drifted off. Off in the distance I heard a bell sound but it didn't occur to me that it was a doorbell til Tracy stopped what she was doing and told me she'd be back in a minute. She went outside, leaving the door open and letting in a draught and some invasive bright lights. I could hear her having a bit of a ding-dong with a woman who was coming in looking for a nail appointment. The woman had a child with her who was looking for sweets and I heard the mother scolding the child while Tracy tried to look after her. I've got to say it broke the mood a bit. I don't know if they have a receptionist in there or what was going on but I don't think a masseuse should be walking out mid-stroke.. Look - suddenly I'm the expert! Anyway, the exchange went on for about 90 seconds before Tracy came back.. In a way it didnt really matter if she came back at all. By then the mood was broken and I couldn't relly relax again.

Tracy worked away for about 5 minutes and then broke away to wash up a fresh towel to put on my back. She left it on me and told me that we were finished and I could have a few minues to relax and get dressed. She left and once again my mind started to race. How long do I have? Should I just lie here? If I just lie here am I supposed to sleep? What if I fall asleep? Can I wash up? Can they play any music other than pan-pipes? In the end I lay there with my eyes open looking through the hole in the bench and wondering what to do. So I did what anyone would do in the same position. I tried to blow out the candle that was flickering away on the floor under the bench. I gave it my best shot, moving my position, varying the pressure of my breath and trying to create a wind shield with the towel that was no longer tucked in to my jeans. In the end I failed, and I grumpily gathered up my belongings and left the room. Stopping to stoop and blow the candle out as I left.

That'll teach them to interupt my massage.. Very enjoyable all the same. Not sure I'd rush back to there (it's a little bit out of the way) but I'll definitely have another massage. I like the idea of Hot Stones. Or deep tissue. Maybe I'm not ready for that though..