It’s been a great day so far. We decide to just generally chill out at home. We fiddle and faff around at home, making some coffee and listening to Madonna’s new album Hard Candy.
God, this woman is a veritable chameleon (I’m talking of Madonna) it is so hard to believe that she’s been around for decades. Oh I’m dancing alright.
On and on, on the beat goes
On and on, on the beat goes
On and on, on the beat goes
Say what you like
Do what you feel
On and on, on the beat goes
There’s something very pleasing about the green lawns outside, offset by the white deck chairs. Jenny is sitting on the threshold of the garden and she’s feeding some little cat all my tuna. I’m not terribly fond of Katzen, but just watching her sit there and feed that cat is something that makes me smile a lot.
I take a moment to think about how sorry I will be to return to Bombay. I don’t want to spend more than a moment though, let me enjoy this moment.
How about I show you Fort Aguada?
Come on!
And we’re off, riding the bike past Candolim towards Aguada. She’s riding as usual and I’m taking in the fresh air and tickling and pinching her behind as usual. We stop at a few furniture and antique stores, it’s not so bad but waaay overpriced.
We’re a kilometer away from Aguada, near the Taj Holiday Village. Suddenly she stops at a small gate and there’s a man standing there.
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Both TheOne® and I love Ayurvedic massages and often we stopped to peek at these little massage places. Some were too obviously touristy (to fool the
goras) or too dicey (not decent looking enough)
Apart from this, we had Rs. 1200/- in our pocket. I kept wanting to stop at an ATM (I couldn’t believe HOW many HDFC atms there were in Goa, incredible!) but every time we slowed down, either Jenny would say next one, or I would.
We had almost given up the idea of a massage on this trip.
Unknown to me, her big beautiful eyes were still hunting for a decent looking massage place. I guess she finally found one.
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I am accosted by a large nice sign that says Arya, Kerala Ayurvedic massage centre. At the gate is a tall youg man called Shiva. Judging from his heavy accent, Shiva is obviously from Kerala.
A few friendly words and he invites us in.
Please to just come and see our place. We have ladies for ladies massage also. Pure Ayurvedic remedies…
It’s a old Goan house. We park our scooter (Jenny rides it in and leaves – Sam puts it on the stand)
Honestly, it’s no spa. It is a simple little house, small clean rooms, tiled roof, some oils and lots of literature and a rather smiley girl and another diminutive man.
Business must be low, Shiva is very enthusiastic and starts breaking leaves and making us smell various juices and remedies.
My ungle has big Ayurvedic Hospital in Kerala he says proudly.
We discuss prices and decide to go for it later, after we visit Aguada. Suddenly we hear thunder and the rain comes tearing down. Ah well, it was destined then.
Shiva, we will stay. How long will the treatment take?
Wun-unna-half-our.
Sounds perfect.
But WAIT!
Ich habe nicht geld baby! She stares wide eyed at me, she had forgotten about the money too.
Shiva I need to get to an ATM first, we don’t have enough money to pay you.
But it is raining.
Yes, I will manage. Why don’t you start with Jennifer’s massage and I’ll get the money.
No. It is OK. You pay later.
Later? I blink.
Yes, you can come tomorrow no problem. You pay later, you no pay now.
Are you sure?
Yes.
I am staying at calangute, I will give you my mobile number before I go.
It is no problem, you pay tomorrow.
It is at moments like these that I realize what Indian people are made of. Trust can only be repaid with trust.
Shiva has a wonderful personality. He is handsome, tall well-built and deeply progressive. He seems determined to work professionally and looks very excited to have our business. He connects his MP3 player to his little system.
Oh God, think I.
He plays some Moby, some Royksopp, some more Electronica and chill lounge, even some German chill tracks. I am amazed!
I cannot describe Jenny’s experience as she was in another room with the lady. I get naked as is expected and the diminutive man brings me my little thing/thong.
I am asked to sit in peace, absolutely straight while I receive a quick lecture from Shiva on my posture and how I need to sit and stand straight and how this will solve half my life’s health problems.
The diminutive man with long oily hair touches my feet. Hmm. This really seems very solemn. Later, the massage begins on the typical Ayurvedic wooden platform.. Strong and silent, over the next 2 hours I receive the most systematic and mind-bending massage I have ever received in my life. (Please note, I have had MANY massages) during the massage it occurs to me how very solemn and precise this particular massage is. This is no touristy spa massage.
Twice I fall asleep and I am woken up twice by the sound of my own snoring! How very embarrassing.
I could have fallen asleep earlier, but often I can hear giggling and chatting over the music from the next little room. Women I think, mentally shaking my head.
Me, I prefer not to utter a word during my massage, except for the occasional pleasurable grunt or groan.
The diminutive man says nothing, when I look at him he is deeply focused on my body, occasionally flipping back his long oily hair.
He smells very clean, albeit a little of coconut, which is a smell I quite enjoy. The old house smells a little musty and steamy. The rain is strong outside.
SSHHHHHH!
Moby does a song about porcelain. I start drifting in and out of sleep. At the back of my mind somehow I can hear Jenny reciting out the names of her family members to the lady massaging her. How very weird.
I then hear Jenny repeat some words in Malayalam. I must be dreaming. I switch off. Let me enjoy this massage.
He taps me gently, I turn over.
He massages my belly. I suddenly feel the urge to express myself gaseously from the hinterlands.
Oh Lord have mercy, now what?
To be continued.