Today, I received a foot massage from a Balinese man named Wayan. My second hotel (Kebun Indah, still in Ubud) has a shop that sells various types of crafts and offers massages, reflexology, and what have you. It was raining and I had nothing better to do so when the woman working in the shop asked if it was a good time for a foot massage I thought, Is it ever a bad time for a foot massage? I guess I thought she would be doing the honors but it was her male coworker’s (Wayan) turn. It wasn’t bad but a foot massage is kind of like a tease for the rest of the body. I thought about explaining this to my new friend but I seriously doubt he would have appreciated the nuances of my humor.
So there I am lying on a table practically naked (except for some rather flattering paper tissue bikini underwear) getting oiled up by Indonesian male massage guy (I did not catch his name). Talk about relaxing. All I could think was, This needs to end NOW!! But it kept going, mostly because I rarely have the courage to hit the eject button in situations where misunderstandings might lead to hurt feelings. Basically, I did not want to insult the guy and felt the language barrier would prevent me from explaining myself effectively. I would be lying if I said he did not come dangerously close to the kids and I have to believe that the occasional brush of his elbow against my konker was completely inadvertent. Please let that be true. Please.