#khao's shoulder + torso: *exist*

[gunsatthaphan]

#safe.

[zackandlisainthailand]

Thumbs Of Steel

Day 3 (part 2)

Traditional Thai massages hurt. They hurt like the masseuse is angry at me. Like I disrespected their mother in High School and they’ve been nursing a revenge fantasy ever since.

Massage spots litter Thailand. Walk a block in any city in any direction and you’ll likely pass at least one.

An hour-long massage costs about 200 to 600 bhat. That’s roughly $6 on the low end, $18 on the high. Hour-long massages in the states run at least $50, and can range from $100 to $200 if they’re upscale. They are waaaaaaay cheaper here.

Lisa and I decided to try our first full body traditional Thai massage in Chiang Mai at the picturesque Fah Lanna Spa.

Lanna looks like a zen Garden of Eden. It’s all garden paths, jungle plants, wooden bridges over burbling ponds, and massive coi fish.

After we signed up, lisa and I were led upstairs by our masseuses to a quiet, dark-wood room. The masseurs — two women in their 40s or 50s — gestured for us to change into a pair of loose-fitting drab robes. After dressing, we laid face down on a pair of thin mattresses positioned side by side on the floor.

Then the massage started.

—

Legend has it that Thai massage was invented over 2,500 years ago by Shivago Komarpaj, an ancient doctor-to-the-stars, who was personal physician to the Buddha.

Reality is a bit less sensational, but in some ways more interesting.

Historically, Buddhist temples were the place locals visited for all types of healing — medical as well as spiritual. Massage was seen as just one more kind of medicine and was practiced and taught within those temples.

There’s evidence of this at Wat Pho (the temple in Bangkok that houses the enormous reclining buddha). Scrawled on the walls of the Wat are murals depecting Thai massage techniques. The murals date back to the early 1800s.

Because of TTM’s close ties to the buddhist religion, there’s a spiritual sheen surrounding the practice today.

At the start of most massages, the masseuse presses his or her hands together in prayer and bows, giving thanks to Komarpaj — the fabled creator of TTM — for passing this tradition down through generations.

After the bow though, all bets are off.

—

I am a lump of dough and my masseuse, Joy, is the rolling pin.

She rotates my head delicately between her palms. She digs a black wooden stick into the bottoms of my feet, which hurts but leaves a lasting warmth. She yanks each of my arms until my shoulders pop.

Then, she positions her iron thumb on a pressure point near the tendon in my elbow joint and presses, leaving her finger digging into my skin until pain begins to drip down the length of my forearm.

10 seconds pass. The pain continues. I breath. It doesn’t help much.

Laying next to me, Lisa lets out a contented sigh. I wonder if her masseuse isn’t playing fast and loose with her body like it’s a hand-me-down GI-Joe, like mine seems to be.

At some point during the massage I complain about neck pain, thinking Joy will stay away from those areas. Instead, she locks me into a Muay Thai-style hold and presses her metal thumbs into the tendons in my neck. Her fingers feel like ball bearings. I squirm under her grip, fighting the urge to leap away. The pain is so excruciating I think I might scream.

After 30 minutes of soothing, deep muscle rubs, and intensely painful pressure point work, Joy asks me to sit up. I do and she squats behind me, placing her knees under my arm pits. She reaches under my arms, interlaces her fingers behind the back of my head, and whispers, “relax.”

I’m scared, but not about to disobey. I go limp. She begins twisting my torso over her left knee, like I’m a bottle cap she’s trying to pop off a root beer. She eases my right shoulder towards the mat while, at the same time, folds me calmly over her knee.

The embrace is alarmingly intimate, like two wrestlers intertwined seconds before a match. I twist and twist, feeling a warmth growing in my lower back and then suddenly I hear a sharp POP burst from a part of my side I didn’t even know existed and an incredible, rag-doll feeling spreads through my entire body. I laugh out loud, partly from the surprise burst of endorphins, but mostly from the ridiculousness of having a total stranger wring me out like a dish towel. At least get to know me first.

A few more of those twists and pops and the massage is over.

Lisa and I rise, blinking like babies waking from deep slumber. She smiles lazily. “Wow” is all she can say.

A roll my head. The tension in my neck is completely gone. My body feels warm and alive, like I’ve just been through a strenuous yoga class. And, in a real way, we have been.

—

(A sign hanging in the spa, which I loved.)

As amazing as we felt after the massage, after a few more tries at TTM, Lisa and I both decided to stick with foot, hand, and oil massages, which go easier on the tendon pushing/joint pulling and focus more on good ole muscle rubbin’. More what we’re used to.

TTM is an invigorating, sometimes painful, full-body workout. The effects can be amazing, but sometimes it’s nice to just lie on a cushioned table, listen to the muzak of Kenny G, and shut your brain off — especially when you’re on honeymoon.

—

After the massage, we decided to head to Chaing Mai’s Sunday Walking Street, a chain of connected roads that transform into a food and vendor market every Sunday night. The walking street is located in Chaing Mai’s downtown and passes a dozen Wats, some massive, most small. It’s a parade of colorful lights and exotic smells, all in front of towering golden Wat’s housing giant Buddha statues.

Unfortunately, the walking street was insanely packed and miserable. Shoulder to shoulder with thousands of locals and travelers, inching along on cramped streets, it took five minutes to walk a single block.

After a long day of travel and luxurious massage, we’d forgotten to eat. We were both hungry and getting pissed off from moving at a snails pace through throngs of shoppers.

We headed towards Huen Phew, a legendary Thai restaurant. Unfortunately, the wait was an hour for a table. (We also saw an enormous rat scurry into the restaurant while we waited.)

We pushed back into the walking street crowd towards a backup spot called Kaow Tom 1฿, a no-frills open air joint locals love.

After crawling for 15 minutes through the hoard, we made it. The front of the restaurant overlooks the flood of people pushing down walking street. Unsurprisingly, this place was also packed, but packed with Thais. We took it as a good sign and put our names down.

After 10 minutes we got a table, sat, and immediately ordered the khao soi.

Khao soi is the pride of northern Thailand. The dish is made of boiled egg noodles dunked in a spicy, coconut-milk curry, with pickled veggies, chicken or tofu, topped with deep-friend crispy egg noodles.

The dish is unlike anything I’d ever tasted. Sweet and spicy with a strong coconut undercurrent. Tender noodles in curry thick with tangy veggies and tofu. The fried noodles add a savory crunch to the whole mix. Totally unique.

The reason you come to Thailand is to eat dishes like this, and to see happy faces like this when you do.

From hangry to “ahhhh” in khao soi.