My first foray into a day spa in Bali has joined my repertoire of horror stories, rudely brought up by friends when I need to be taken down a peg or two.
I went to this spa in Ubud years ago. Spas were few and far between back then - there were still rice paddies in Monkey Forest Road. I happily donned a sarong & lay on a comfy table in a three sided room overlooking a cobbled courtyard garden. Greenery abounded, as it trend to in Bali. It was so peaceful & serene. I was having a 3 hour treatment - I had a Balinese massage, a few layers of skin primped & pampered with essential oils, to be followed by a yoghurt treatment & flower bath. The kind massage lady was very careful to preserve my dignity by moving the sarong ever so slightly during the table treatments so my lady bits remained covered. Whilst basting in warm white goo, I eagerly watched a humungus tub being filled with water & a dazzling display of colored petals & frangipani, so I knew what was coming next! Oooooh goodie. I love a bath!
No I did not know what was coming next! Holy Mother of sweet virgins! I was expected to go and rinse off under an outdoor shower, sneakily hidden in an earthenware pot in the wall of the courtyard garden - I say sneakily because I had no idea it was there & thus no time to ease myself into the idea of showering in the open, accessible to view by any Tom, Dick or Ketut who might happen to be up a palm tree picking coconuts at the time! Ye gods!
And it got worse! As I got off the massage table, the massage lady tried to wrestle the only thing between me & complete nudity from my person! I clutched that sarong to me for dear life! Though she was tiny, she had the power of a woolly mammoth & managed not only to whip my meagre protection from my white knuckled hands but had the impudence to shoo me towards the sneakily hidden outdoor shower & stood watching to see if I could manage to turn on the tap on my own. I think she thought I was intellectually challenged. Maybe it was the amount of whites in my eyes?
So I waddled to the shower in self-conscious mortification, terrifyingly aware of every cellulitic wobble, the sun shining on my never been seen in sunshine lady bits, bitterly regretting my cowardice in not getting a Brazilian or similar topiary before my trip. OMG - I have never been starkers in front of a stranger since I took my first breath! Not reassured by the wicked shards of glass embedded in top of the high wall, I was able to do a quick reconnaissance of the surrounding trees for perving coconut pickers, a shrill hysterical scream on the ready. In fact a shrill hysterical scream had been ready since the sarong tug of war.
Whilst showering, evil massage lady (as she will now be known) pottered around the room, tidying up. So I showered with no privacy, pondering the false sense of security I had cunningly been lulled into by the careful placement of the sarong during my treatment. What a crock! I probably stood under that damn shower until I was a prune, as I was unsure of the protocol once I turned off the water. Do I just 'casually' walk back into the room pretending that I'm not at all butt naked & dripping water all over the floor? What can one do with dignity in such circumstances?
When I summoned the guts to turn off the sneakily hidden outdoor shower, evil massage woman waved me towards the awaiting flower bath. Almost causing a small tidal wave, I leapt into the flower bath & sank up to my neck, for once grateful that the addition of my body into the bath raised the water level to within an inch of the rim. Evil massage woman decided it was a good time to leave the room while I soaked. You know, it's really not that relaxing having flower petals float up nether regions where no flower has any business being.
I could not help noticing that there was a stand full off big fluffy towels well away from the perimeter of the bath. Dammit, is there no end to my humiliation & torture? She's sure to come back in just before I manage to grab a towel. Sure enough, I got sprung within reach of a towel, with frangipani trapped within my butt cheeks! Evil massage woman had returned with a steaming glass of ginger tea, when in fact all I wanted was a tall alcoholic anything & keep 'em coming! Relaxed I was not. Rejuvenated? Hmm, no. Though spectators may have mistaken my constant full body blush for a recently exfoliated glow. I could not wait to get out of there & I have not had a spa treatment since! I don't think my heart could take it!
Anyone else had such a delightful experience? Do tell,,,,,,,
Cheers.