I came back from China tenderized. The bruises that I had up and down my shin and thigh weren’t from injuries.
They were from massages.
Yep, I’m a massage junkie. I was in China for just a few days–days chock-full of shopping, sightseeing, cultural events, etc–and I still managed almost a massage/day.
The highlights: there was the crazy guy in the Emperor’s pharmacy who practically picked me up off of my chair because he was rubbing me down so briskly [he also cracked my back in a most dramatic way w/his knee–whoa!], the sumptuous night-on-the-town foot massage coordinated by super-guide Jack [where they had me drink this dark herbal tea concoction that almost knocked me out _before_ the hour-long reflexology massage began], and the most deligtful 1/2 body massage in the Beijing airport that Dora arranged. Next time I have a nine(!) hour layover I hope I’m in Beijing where massages only cost $10! And that they use a light shimmer of oil, and that there hands are slightly cool and when they knead my face and scalp I realize that I am totally helpless because it feels that good…
Some people in our group had to buy an extra suitcase for all of the souvenirs that they bought in China. Me, I brought memories of massages that cost me less than four knock-off Gucci bags apiece…
