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It was a cool, drizzly evening as I navigated through the cobblestone streets of the ancient Eastern European city. I was shivering, both from the extreme weather condition and the anticipation of what awaited. My consultant had actually advised a distinct massage parlour nestled amidst the historical centre; an establishment renowned for its art, as much as its extravagance.
I had been taking a trip for weeks, exploring the huge stretch of the mysterious continent. My body hurt from the continuous movement and the cold that had begun to embed in; I required revitalization.
The parlour, called 'The Healing Place,' was a standard stone building decorated with ivy. A mild, warm glow originated from inside, welcoming, basically whispering to me, "Come within." As I pushed open the heavy oak door, a gust of warm, fragrant air engulfed me. The mellow noise of sitar music combined with the soft citrusy-woodsy aroma provided the place an unusual, trance-like aura.
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The receptionist, a small woman with dove-like eyes, invited me with a warm smile, ushering me towards a little, poorly lit space where I was to wait on my masseur.
As I waited, I unraveled the heavy layers of clothes, letting the heat of the room seep into my skin. I closed my eyes trying to savor the moment. In the middle of the calming asian music, I might construct the soft dripping sound of water from a close-by fountain. It provided out a freshness, a sense of relief.
After what looked like an ethereal pause, the door creaked open. A high, lean figure stepped in, presenting himself as Dimitri, my masseur. He had a calm, calming voice that contributed to the serene atmosphere.
As I put down on the table, a sheet hardly concealing my modesty, Dimitri started with his magic. His hands were warm and company, a stark contrast to the biting cold exterior. The dim, warm candlelight cast shadows on the rustic stone walls, making it a surreal world, far away from the mundane.
He began my massage gradually, working his method through my wearied shoulders down to my hurting back. His hands operated in rhythm, putting in pressure, launching, moving - it felt like a synchronized dance of his fingers on my back. I sighed audibly, and Dimitri whispered, "Relax.".
An hour passed, possibly 2, I could hardly tell. The space was so warm, the music so lulling, his touch so soothing, and the really air tasted like serenity. It recovered, unwinded, and freed me more than I 'd ever believed possible.
Bell-like chimes stirred me awake. Dimitri carefully notified me that my session was over. He left the room, permitting me a couple of private moments to delight in the after-effects of a remarkable experience.
As I ignored 'The Healing Place,' I carried with me a sense of satisfaction, a newly found respect for the art of massage. It was magic; it was an intimate dance, a poetry of touch that can change a weary tourist into a rejuvenated soul.
This is my memory of an expressive night that led me to taste a piece of sensual serenity. I invite you to open your mind to check out the sensuous world of massage parlours and enable yourself the extravagance of a life time. After all, we're tourists in this huge stretch of life, aren't all of us looking for some healing?
The Serenity of Serendipity - A Thai Massage Tale.
Long years of laboring behind a desk had left a permanent crescent-shaped curve on my spinal column. A little into my thirties, stiff neck, and back aches were becoming a closer buddy than any family pet might ever be. On the suggestion of a well-meaning good friend, and overcoming my doubt, I discovered myself in front of the simple wooden façade of the prominent "Bangkok Sanctuary", a Thai massage parlor tucked away in the dynamic heart of the city.
As I stepped in through the ornately sculpted entrance, I was enveloped in a calm wave of lemongrass-scented air. It cushioned the city's brusque behavior, giving way for the tranquility that Thai facilities are known for. I was welcomed by Sayuri, her silver-kissed hair nicely bound, a radiant smile used her lips and her eyes twinkled with the knowledge just experience brings.
Directed into a poorly lit space ornamented with faintly flickering candle lights and the relaxing whispering of a bamboo waterfall, I was paralleled into another world. The air was ripe with the earthy fragrance of necessary oils, and soft instrumental music feathered through the silence, lulling my senses to calmness.
Decked in a loose set of thick cotton trousers and a t-shirt, as is popular for a Thai massage, I lay down on the mat, looking at the ornate Asian art work on the ceiling. A ripple of stress and anxiety chomped at me, but Sayuri's essential Thai amiability reduced my turmoil.
As the massage started, I might feel expert hands working their magic. Fingers pushing and kneading into tight muscles, sometimes meeting a knot where all the tension coagulated. My breath hitched as those tender knots were kneaded up until they dissipated into nothingness.
She was a writer-- each pull, twist, and turn seemed like a page torn from a tale, releasing its secrets. I was caught off guard when she began using her elbows and feet too, extending my body with the precision so characteristic of Thai massages. The pressing of her feet versus my back broken open the concealed vaults of quelched stress, and each fracture produced a wave of relief.
The heat of the oils leaking into my skin, the rhythmic pressure alternating in between soothing and extreme, in addition to the asian music that played in the background-- everything co-existed in managed consistency. Each motion of Sayuri's hands shook loose a bevy of bottled-up memories, feelings, and crises, making my physical body feel lighter and my soul feel unburdened.
And then, the grand finale. Sayuri transferred to abrade my scalp with verve and vigor. It was as if every staying concern, every remaining idea, was unknotted from my head, drifting into the ether to oblivion.
As those hauntingly ordinary ninety minutes etched to an end, I was a brand-new man, purified of the tension dogging my life, one knead at a time. The tightness in my neck that was an unwelcome occupant for several years, made a quiet exit, leaving in its wake, newly found versatility and relief.
The noise of sand dripping in an hourglass snapped me back to truth. I increased from the mat, my body humming its thankfulness, my mind cleared of its fog. Appreciation welling up in my heart, I thanked Sayuri, her eyes reflecting understanding and fulfillment.
Unexpected as it was-- my foray into that Thai massage parlor left me an altered person -an introduction to an alternative measurement of relaxation that neither wealth nor materialism could match. It became my escape, my journey toward self-discovery, and a testimony to the restorative power of touch. An extraordinary experience certainly!
Remember - We all seek solace, and in some cases it is available in the unlikeliest of places, like the Bangkok Sanctuary - an easy, yet fascinating Thai massage parlor in the heart of a boisterous city.
My advisor had actually suggested an unique massage parlour nestled amidst the historical centre; a facility renowned for its art, as much as its indulgence.
I invite you to open your mind to explore the sensual world of massage parlours and permit yourself the extravagance of a life time. On the suggestion of a well-meaning good friend, and conquering my doubt, I found myself in front of the simple wooden façade of the popular "Bangkok Sanctuary", a Thai massage parlor tucked away in the busy heart of the city.
I was captured off guard when she started utilizing her feet and elbows too, stretching my body with the precision so particular of Thai massages. Unintentional as it was-- my venture into that Thai massage parlor left me an altered person -an introduction to an alternative dimension of relaxation that neither wealth nor materialism might match.
|henley in arden