I wasn’t intending to get a massage but I was talked into it by the local masseur. The massage place is on a street corner near the hotel and he catches people as they go past. He holds their hands and tells them what’s wrong with them by feeling their energy. I can’t say he accurately felt anything interesting through my hands but he was spot on with Sarah so we agreed a session the next day. Having agreed to have a standard massage I was asked if I wanted a deep massage. I thought, in for a rupee, in for a pound so I went deep. They didn’t offer an ego massage! This was to be my second massage ever. I laid face down on the bench with my head in the hole and the Spotify running water playlist came on. The person I was dealing with was then replaced by the real masseur who I never really saw. I would describe him as having strong thumbs, nice sandals and a shadowy presence. He asked me if he was pressing too hard and I said no, it was ok. It was quite hard but I wasn’t in tears yet so I thought no pain no gain. He was at it for about an hour before he disappeared and it was all over. Do I feel any different? I’m not sure but it’s a family business and I was talking to the old guy and he said he’d been there for 56 years so I think they know what they’re doing.
Once he’d finished on my bharti, the masseur moved down to my thighs.