After my marathon, I thought it would be a nice treat to get a massage at the hotel spa. It was quite the experience, and so funny that I just had to share.
My massage therapist came to get me in the waiting room and introduced herself. I replied "Je suis désolé , je ne parle pas Fench" (I'm sorry, I don't speak French). So she grabbed me by the arm, led me into a room, said something very quickly in French and then left. The only word I understood was "slipper."
I looked down and there was a pair of slippers. Usually, when I get a massage I chat with the massage therapist before (while still clothed). But if she just wanted me to take off my shoes and put on the slippers so we could talk, she wouldn't have left the room. And if she wanted me to get undressed and lie on the table, then why did I need slippers? I debated this for a few minutes, and then decided to just take off my clothes and get on the table. I did not wear the slippers.
As I got to the table, I found my next problem. Usually the table is covered by a sheet and then there is a second sheet that goes over you. Here however, there was just the table and a big towel. I decided lying right on the leather table would not be comfortable, so I put myself on top of the towel, with nothing covering me. I waited there, sincerely hoping that she expected me to be lying on the table with nothing covering me when she came back in.
Apparently I did the right thing, or she covered her shock well, because she came in and got right into the massage. The first half was pretty uneventful, although I did wish that I could communicate that I’d like a little more pressure and to have her focus on my IT bands and hamstrings. Then however, she had me flip over onto my back. This isn’t unusual, however it was unusual that she left me uncovered. I felt quite exposed.
Things got even stranger. After she massaged my legs, she moved up to my abdomen. It’s an area I’ve never had massaged before, and I see why. I didn’t feel that great. It also made my stomach start to gurgle and make all kinds of strange noises. The noises made me laugh and made it hard to stay relaxed. Then came the kicker- she massaged my chest. Yep, every inch of it, boobs and all. I’m pretty sure my eyes flew open in shock.
Later that night I had to confess to my husband that not only had I been fondled by a woman, but that I’d paid for it.
Just a warning to you if you ever plan to get a massage in Morocco. They massage it all.