seeing hands

chiang mai, thailand

they say that familiarity breeds contempt, and that would be taking it too far. in southeast asia's particular case, familiarity breeds familiarity, or, at least begets a law of diminishing returns for various stimuli and phenomena. approaching two weeks until departure, i'm starting to open my eyes once more to my surroundings, very much aware of the upcoming transition from life moment to lifetime memory. this manifests itself in various ways. there has been a spike in strawberry shake consumption. i've embarked on this strange activity referred to as "shopping." and i've begun to read the writing on the wall. that's where they have the prices listed for massages.

they're cheap and they're offered everywhere. in my experience, they're so ubiquitous that after two weeks i hardly noticed someone was willing to relieve my body's accumulated stress for us$5 per hour. it was just par for the course. my own massage visits have come in spurts, if you'll permit me one unintended, inappropriate double entendre. my first visit was on my first day in bangkok. it was a godsend after arriving from winter and seemed like a fantastic way to kill an hour while waiting for the lsu-alabama kickoff. i crossed a border and briefly continued the trend in cambodia. the country has a fantastic concept where they train the blind to give massages, thus allowing a respectable trade and wage to the handicapped. i had two myself, calling it quits after the second confirmed that their mentor's teachings were a little too heavy on the death grip. not only did i pay to feel like i was in guantanamo, i also got the opportunity to complain to a blind man. i should have kicked a legless orphan just to keep that high going.

save for one post-trek visit in sapa, there was nothing until this dimaggio-streak i've had going for the past week. the thais have the best practice, in my opinion, and the weather has turned so that there is really no point in being aggressive with sightseeing during the day's hottest hours. letting someone knead your muscles and crack your bones is a great way to give your book an hour or two of intermission.

and the atmosphere has been fantastic. spending the real money yields the scented candles and soundtracks inspired by sounds of the forest or waves crashing. that whole thing strikes me as an intimacy i simply cannot associate with stretching my tendons. what i've found so far in the north is the equivalent of a korean nail salon. older ladies chat away in open rooms with several foam mattresses and spinning fans. i have my eyes closed while one of them eases the tension from the kilometers of walking and hours of compression in planes, trains, and automobiles. she gets to catch up on gossip with her friends while letting my lanky frame redefine the potential of just what a limb could be.

all the while, i get comfort in the security that i'm not going into one of those other massage parlors. i'm pleased to report that i haven't even been offered a happy ending. many people come to this part of the world specifically for that additional service, so it is a potential hazard. there are concerns about the objectification of women and the health risks of solicitation, but i'm afraid that my reason for not partaking is far simpler: it would just feel weird (not literally, of course; one could argue that it would actually feel quite good.) i should probably be more vehemently opposed to the practice on moral grounds, but i've met enough people who do or have done it and it really is far more nuanced than the larger dialogue cedes. if the masseuse is willing and of a certain age, how you spend your money is really none of my business.

which all feels refreshing. what, you ask, feels refreshing? why, the relief at being able to come clean about how i'm not coming dirty (okay, sorry, two double entendres) during this trip. it's something that is often wondered whenever you meet a solo male traveler above a certain age and it's always good to dispel. of course, i could just be dispelling it publicly to hide my shame at having done the practice privately. but then again, why would i write about the topic if i had done it? wouldn't that just be drawing attention to the whole matter, attention that i would be looking to avoid? then again, you counter, maybe i am soliciting and using this forum to take control of the dialogue and shape it with my lies (inspired by the republican primaries, of course)?

listen, i only have two things to say before closing this out: 1) i am not paying for sexual relations, and 2) i should have just written about the strawberry shakes.