Belly Aches & Blind Massages

"Into each traveler's journey, some intestinal discomfort must fall."

That's how the saying goes, right?

We were warned early on that eventually, it would happen to us. 
Careful as we've been to eat at only trust-worthy looking restaurants, stay far away from street food, and wash all our fruits and veggies in filtered water, the Woo-Jay household had a rather... um... explosive past few days. 

I heart Western meds.

We are still not exactly sure what caused it. 
For some reason, Curtis has been wanting to blame my poor, innocent Cheerios (and the milk they were in). I am more inclined to point the finger at some dubious-looking spinach we were served the other day. (There was too much sauce on that spinach. It was obviously hiding something.) 

All I know for sure is that I am still recovering.
And I am now afraid to sneeze. 

The worst was finally over by Sunday morning, so we decided to treat our tortured bodies to a massage. But not just any massage. Oh no. We booked two blind massages.

I've been intrigued with the concept of blind massage ever since I read about it in a guide book a couple of years ago. The theory behind it is that the visually impaired masseuse's other senses are heightened in such a way that they are better able to locate and ease tense muscles and problem areas. 

Also, it was only going to be $17 for a one-hour massage, so heck to the yes we were doing this! 

The $17 storefront to go with the $17 massage.

Once we arrived, we were guided into a sparsely decorated room that smelled (not unpleasantly) of baby oil, with two basic massage tables. 

Curtis hopped on one table, and was quickly tended to by a young, lanky, friendly fella who was very evidently visually-impaired. 

I climbed onto the other table and was greeted by a cheery, older, round guy who I thought was maybe the towel-bringer, but who turned out to be my masseuse. Based on all the looking-at-each-other-and-smiling we were doing, I am not so convinced my guy was even close to blind. Maybe he used bifocals once in a while? 

I have learned that when in China, sometimes you cannot be too picky.

Our massages commenced and I immediately did not have high hopes. 

I could hear a tv blaring what sounded like Chinese action movies from the next room, and when that was muted, someone upstairs decided it was the most perfect time ever to start hammering the floor above my head. 

But then my guy started working his masseuse-y magic and nothing else mattered. He got all kinds of spots in my neck, shoulders, and back, some of which I didn't even know were tense until he started working on 'em. Those same quick, strong, kneading motions were unfortunately tickle-y torture on my legs. I burst into a giggling fit, which prompted Curtis's masseuse to turn around and earnestly ask, "Are you having a very fun time?" 

Speaking of Curtis's masseuse. Right away, he asked Curtis if he knew he "had a little hunchback." This made me chuckle not only because it was so direct, but also because it sounded weirdly adorable. Apparently the rest of Curtis's massage involved stretching, twisting, cracking, and elbowing this "little hunchback" into submission. Poor little hunchback.

Overall, I have to say that I was pretty impressed with the thoroughness and intensity of my blind(ish) massage. At one point, my foot started cramping badly, and my masseuse sprung to action and pushed really hard on a specific point on my foot, which relaxed it entirely. I later found out (from my super-smart pal, Google), that the point he applied pressure to was the reflexology spot for my small intestine. 

What I'm trying to say is, on top of the great massage, his magical, blind-masseuse-intuition powers obviously told him I was recovering from food poisoning, and he knew just what to do to help relieve my agony. 

So would I go back? 
Why yes, yes I would.