It was time. Well, it was past time, considering the last time I ventured a haircut was back in February when I was last in an English-speaking country.
This time, I ventured back to the place where I had brought a translating friend in the fall armed only with a pencil sketch of the profiled view of the shape I was looking for. (Thanks, Kelly!)
Even in Wudaokou, home to many English-speaking ex-pats and English-friendly restaurants, everyone at this place acted like I was the first laowei (foreigner) to cross the threshold. It is possible I’m the first English-only expat who tried to get her hair cut there.
They asked me lots of questions, to which my only response was to hold up the picture and try to show the angle with my hand on my hair showing short in the back, long in the front. Some asked me something, which to me sounded like, “Yada yada 30-something, 50-something, 100-something?”
I know my numbers, but sometimes they speak so quickly I can’t make it out. My best guess was that they were telling me my expenses, which ended up around ¥100/$15, which is ridiculously overpriced. (The average haircut, even at nice places is ¥20-30.) Nevertheless, I didn’t have much ability to argue, and was willing to pay the extra price just for shorter hair in this deadly hot Beijing summer.
“Dui, ok,” I answered. The guy just looked at me and repeated. “Dui, ok” I answered. He left.
By the time another person came by, also saying the same thing in Chinese, I realized I was being given a choice. What that choice meant, hover, I had no idea. I went with the middle option, around ¥50, just to be safe.
I had to wonder, though, what is the difference between different prices when you’re talking about a haircut?? Do they care about you more? Cut it more even?
The ex-pat, English-only world may never know.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
The East Is Red
I’m not even sure I should be uploading this (or the next few articles) while still in the red zone, but hey, I’m close enough to my plane ticket back that hopefully I’ll still make it out alive.
My friend Annie, a professional puppet maker traveling around China on a Fulbright scholarship, decided to have her birthday party at The East is Red, a venue for communist dinner theater.
All of the waiters and waitresses are in communist gear/uniforms. The dining room was large, with about 100 round tables filled with Chinese people. Our own table, set off to the side, was the only with foreigners. While we ate the workers took turns singing and dancing, sometimes with guns or flags thrown into the choreography.
I was hesitant to have any reaction at first. The last thing I wanted was to be the laughing foreigner while an enormous crowd of communists cheered on, glasses raised. The reaction of the crowd, however, did fluctuate between laughter, cheering, and nostalgic nodding.
Everything from the songs to the announcers to the menu was in Mandarin, so, as always, I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. I know that I saw people raising their fists in the air with a bent elbow, a sign of the communist party which stands for, “My head follows my heart.” (Incidentally, this has been brought into Chinese weddings, where the happy couple makes this “We Can Do It” fist as they say their vows.)
Every one of us was given a red flag, and during certain especially celebratory songs, it was amazing to see all of the flags waving together, our own included. Before we were given flags, one of our friends, as especially enthusiastic boy, stood on his chair and raised the red chair covering to the beat of the music. He was welcomed by a neighboring table of what looked like business men to a shot of bi jiu (the strong, horrible, Chinese liquor), which he regrettably took. Before leaving, he was even given a Communist Kaleidoscope. This is all to say that, as a lonely American in a communist crowd, one needn’t worry of projecting sarcasm.
My friend Annie, a professional puppet maker traveling around China on a Fulbright scholarship, decided to have her birthday party at The East is Red, a venue for communist dinner theater.
All of the waiters and waitresses are in communist gear/uniforms. The dining room was large, with about 100 round tables filled with Chinese people. Our own table, set off to the side, was the only with foreigners. While we ate the workers took turns singing and dancing, sometimes with guns or flags thrown into the choreography.
I was hesitant to have any reaction at first. The last thing I wanted was to be the laughing foreigner while an enormous crowd of communists cheered on, glasses raised. The reaction of the crowd, however, did fluctuate between laughter, cheering, and nostalgic nodding.
Everything from the songs to the announcers to the menu was in Mandarin, so, as always, I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. I know that I saw people raising their fists in the air with a bent elbow, a sign of the communist party which stands for, “My head follows my heart.” (Incidentally, this has been brought into Chinese weddings, where the happy couple makes this “We Can Do It” fist as they say their vows.)
Every one of us was given a red flag, and during certain especially celebratory songs, it was amazing to see all of the flags waving together, our own included. Before we were given flags, one of our friends, as especially enthusiastic boy, stood on his chair and raised the red chair covering to the beat of the music. He was welcomed by a neighboring table of what looked like business men to a shot of bi jiu (the strong, horrible, Chinese liquor), which he regrettably took. Before leaving, he was even given a Communist Kaleidoscope. This is all to say that, as a lonely American in a communist crowd, one needn’t worry of projecting sarcasm.
Friday, June 10, 2011
A Night at the (Chinese/HipHop) Ballet
When my friend Roxanne told me about a dance performance she was going to that mixed Ballet, Hiphop, and traditional Chinese dance, I was sold. Seeing a dance performance was one of the few stragglers on my Beijing Bucket List, and this one sounded even more interesting than I had imagined. The choreographer was from France, but had worked in Africa and China as well as Europe.
Roxanne had been to a Q and A with him, where she learned that dance was only his second career. He was drawn to hip hop as an adult when he realized there was not much choreography for women. Now, he specializes in chorogrpahing for women, although there are still men in his performances.
Propelled by this new information, I once again set my naïve feminist self up for disappointment. At this point I’m not sure if it’s an American lense that made me think he would have a feminist perspective, or just my own natural tendencies. Regardless, I never would have expected for the majority and finale of the one-hour performance to involve the men using numchucks to beat, strangle, and kill the female dancers.
I’ll admit that it was visually interesting, and it did make me think. One of the creepiest parts was that many of their moves were the same or very similar to partnered ballet, with the addition of weapons and violent exaggerations.
At the last second of the performance, the men do fall down and the women take the numchucks and throw them to the ground. For me though, after more than 30 minutes of being tossed around, r the girls should have at least gotten a few punches themselves.
Favorite Performance: The first dance, where the five men wore long skirts and long feathers attached to their elbows as extensions of their arms. The movement was gorgeous and I could really see the mixture of Chinese and modern ballet, if not necessarily hip hop.
Roxanne had been to a Q and A with him, where she learned that dance was only his second career. He was drawn to hip hop as an adult when he realized there was not much choreography for women. Now, he specializes in chorogrpahing for women, although there are still men in his performances.
Propelled by this new information, I once again set my naïve feminist self up for disappointment. At this point I’m not sure if it’s an American lense that made me think he would have a feminist perspective, or just my own natural tendencies. Regardless, I never would have expected for the majority and finale of the one-hour performance to involve the men using numchucks to beat, strangle, and kill the female dancers.
I’ll admit that it was visually interesting, and it did make me think. One of the creepiest parts was that many of their moves were the same or very similar to partnered ballet, with the addition of weapons and violent exaggerations.
At the last second of the performance, the men do fall down and the women take the numchucks and throw them to the ground. For me though, after more than 30 minutes of being tossed around, r the girls should have at least gotten a few punches themselves.
Favorite Performance: The first dance, where the five men wore long skirts and long feathers attached to their elbows as extensions of their arms. The movement was gorgeous and I could really see the mixture of Chinese and modern ballet, if not necessarily hip hop.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Duck Dinner and Dancing
The place was new for me, off of the Beixinqiao stop, which is apparently a stretch of duck restaurants as far as the eye can see, all begging for customers from the street. I was happy to have a reservation. Whenever we go out with Sarah, it’s a wonder for me, as I get to watch how someone might live in this city if they could communicate with the people around them. Simple things like checking up on a reservation, or making requests about the menu other than pointing and saying “zhiga” or “this” is usually a lost cause.
The restaurant was decorated in traditional Chinese style, as a large hutong. Sarah had us face the window to the next room so that we could see “the show.” I didn’t know what to expect, but what I saw was a mix between a Chinese Opera and a low budget circus.
The first few acts were juggling, using giant beer bottles, plates, and knives. It made me nervous in the way that only watching something in real life instead of TV can, because at any moment something could go horribly wrong.
The next act was a plate spinner, who put the plates on 4-foot long metal poles and then spun them. He balanced 16 of these over two tables, rushing to this one and that one which was wobbling and about to fall.
The final act was a more traditional Chinese performance, where a man in ornate robes and long feathers on his elbows dances with sharp motions. He wears many layers of masks, and throughout the dance he removes them so quickly that it seems his face has changed color.
I’m always happy to eat Peking Duck, but I’ll admit that this night it was a little hard to focus on making those pancakes!
The restaurant was decorated in traditional Chinese style, as a large hutong. Sarah had us face the window to the next room so that we could see “the show.” I didn’t know what to expect, but what I saw was a mix between a Chinese Opera and a low budget circus.
The first few acts were juggling, using giant beer bottles, plates, and knives. It made me nervous in the way that only watching something in real life instead of TV can, because at any moment something could go horribly wrong.
The next act was a plate spinner, who put the plates on 4-foot long metal poles and then spun them. He balanced 16 of these over two tables, rushing to this one and that one which was wobbling and about to fall.
The final act was a more traditional Chinese performance, where a man in ornate robes and long feathers on his elbows dances with sharp motions. He wears many layers of masks, and throughout the dance he removes them so quickly that it seems his face has changed color.
I’m always happy to eat Peking Duck, but I’ll admit that this night it was a little hard to focus on making those pancakes!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
KTV
In all the guidebooks for China they mention KTV. It’s China’s version of Karaoke. Set in private rooms with drinks and often food, I could see the greater appeal. Perhaps if I wasn’t made to wait in a long line for a chance to sing drunkenly in front of strangers, I’d be more of a Karaoke person myself.
I decided to test this theory (and cross another event off of my Beijing Bucket List) by joining some friends for KTV. One pitfall for my evening was that I planned it on the Friday after a 9 day week of school, when I was so exhausted I could easily have gone to bed at 7 pm.
Claire and Dianna happen to be another lesbian couple that live in our building. The changes of this are astoundingly small. Even more rare is the fact that they are awesome. When they invited Kelly and I to pregame at their place at 9, I was happy to go. When we were still there at 1 am and they ordered a delivery of 16 beers, I was ready to go home and forget KTV.
They managed to rally everyone out of the door by 1:30, and we headed over. The KTV place was a 5 minute walk from our apartment, and they let you BYOB. We were led through corridor after corridor of closed off rooms, the Chinese music still blaring into the hall. Our room was pretty big, with one wall lined with couches, two tables in the middle, and two flat screen TVs. There are two microphones, and a machine in the corner for picking songs and adding laugh tracks, hoots, and hollers. That may have been my favorite part of the night, adding extra applause and whistling while people sang.
The other gem of the evening was that when China doesn’t have the real video for a song, they have one made, which always has Chinese people singing to each other in a random harbor, walking along the docks.
Finding songs that worked for everyone was also an interesting game. It was the most international group of expats I’ve spent time with all year. Claire is from Ireland, as were a few others. Dianna is from Bulgaria. Some people were from London or other provinces in China. One blond girl that I had begged as rude because she would only speak Chinese around me turned out to be Russian, and super friendly with the little broken English she pulled out by the end of the night. Whoops! Everyone but Kelly and I spoke Chinese, and not everyone spoke English. This made the prolonged pregame a bit of a challenge, but once we were in KTV land, it was all good. I enjoyed listening to the songs in Chinese, and no one seemed to mind the parade of English songs.
A lot of the time we just all sang together from the couches, although some people stood when a song they had chosen came on. The selection of English songs that made it to China are hilarious enough alone. I forgot how sweet the Cranberries are.
Kelly and I left around 3, but the girls held it down until 7 am! That’s a serious night of KTV!
I decided to test this theory (and cross another event off of my Beijing Bucket List) by joining some friends for KTV. One pitfall for my evening was that I planned it on the Friday after a 9 day week of school, when I was so exhausted I could easily have gone to bed at 7 pm.
Claire and Dianna happen to be another lesbian couple that live in our building. The changes of this are astoundingly small. Even more rare is the fact that they are awesome. When they invited Kelly and I to pregame at their place at 9, I was happy to go. When we were still there at 1 am and they ordered a delivery of 16 beers, I was ready to go home and forget KTV.
They managed to rally everyone out of the door by 1:30, and we headed over. The KTV place was a 5 minute walk from our apartment, and they let you BYOB. We were led through corridor after corridor of closed off rooms, the Chinese music still blaring into the hall. Our room was pretty big, with one wall lined with couches, two tables in the middle, and two flat screen TVs. There are two microphones, and a machine in the corner for picking songs and adding laugh tracks, hoots, and hollers. That may have been my favorite part of the night, adding extra applause and whistling while people sang.
The other gem of the evening was that when China doesn’t have the real video for a song, they have one made, which always has Chinese people singing to each other in a random harbor, walking along the docks.
Finding songs that worked for everyone was also an interesting game. It was the most international group of expats I’ve spent time with all year. Claire is from Ireland, as were a few others. Dianna is from Bulgaria. Some people were from London or other provinces in China. One blond girl that I had begged as rude because she would only speak Chinese around me turned out to be Russian, and super friendly with the little broken English she pulled out by the end of the night. Whoops! Everyone but Kelly and I spoke Chinese, and not everyone spoke English. This made the prolonged pregame a bit of a challenge, but once we were in KTV land, it was all good. I enjoyed listening to the songs in Chinese, and no one seemed to mind the parade of English songs.
A lot of the time we just all sang together from the couches, although some people stood when a song they had chosen came on. The selection of English songs that made it to China are hilarious enough alone. I forgot how sweet the Cranberries are.
Kelly and I left around 3, but the girls held it down until 7 am! That’s a serious night of KTV!
Monday, June 6, 2011
Western –Chinese Style
Even Western-Chinese weddings start at 8’s. L’s began at 11:08, but if they hadn’t been ready, they would have started at 11;18, or 11:28. I was told, (with a look that said, of course this is common sense) this is because 8 is a lucky number that means “more”.
(Incidentally, 4 is such a bad number for its semblance with the character for “death” that there is no 4th floor in most of the buildings in China, and no sports player who will agree to that jersey.)
Instead of the traditional procession, the wedding began with the groom singing to his bride, walking down the aisle and handing her the bouquet. It was so sweet and adorable, watching him walk her down the aisle to the stage. We were again at round tables with bi jiu and snacks.
I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but the tone was very different than other weddings. Instead of a minister or priest, L had her own MC. He spoke with great personality, and often got the crowd busting with laughter and applause.
The ceremony had all the little bits of western ceremonies packed into one event. Guests came up to give speeches. They said their vows, facing us on the stage. They exchanged rings, cut the cake and fed it to each other. Then they lit candles and poured champagne to make a fountain. They called me up to take the bouquet, I said my “speech”, which no one could understand, and then the groom carried her “across the threshold” of the arch at the bottom of the aisle.
After a 10 minute intermission, the bride came out in her reception dress, which was similar in style to western dresses, but, of course, red. The couple still came around “Chinese-style” to each of the tables with bi jiu. Even though the bottle had been filled with water, the lingering flavor from the liquor caused L to spit up by the last table.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Order of Operations
My own assistant, L, threw herself a “western” wedding. Chinese people, in my opinion, do marriage right. First they get married, legally. Then, months or a year later, they have wedding photos taken. These are incredibly elaborate, often taking an entire day, many wardrobe changes, and indoor and outdoor locations. (L said that hers lasted until midnight and was exhausting).
Lastly, after years of actually being married, the couple has a wedding. In my opinion, this order of events would help Americans escape the Bride-as-Princess phenomenon that in my opinion has led to so many early marriages (and early divorces) in our generation.
The other brilliant move on L’s part was having two weddings. The Traditional Chinese one was in her hometown and completely controlled by her parents. All she had to do was show up.
The wedding in Beijing that I attended had no family at all. It was just friends and classmates of the bride and groom, and L could do it all her way.
Even so, she seemed to be more exhausted by the process than excited. When we showed up on the day, she was plopped down in a chair, fanning herself. L, who never complains no matter what is happening at school and what she’s asked to do, looked up at me and moaned, “I cannot stand. How will I walk down the aisle?” When she said that she’d be glad when it was all over, I knew she meant it. It was strange to see a bride just before her wedding, in the perfect white sparkly dress , who wasn’t beaming as if it was the best day of her life. At the end she said, “I’m super exhausted. I don’t want to get married again.” Unfortunately for her, this was just her first wedding of two.
I’m not suggesting that we take away the dream of anyone who wants to have their wedding their day, and make it as special as it should be for them. This, just like everything else over here, was just a totally different experience.
Lastly, after years of actually being married, the couple has a wedding. In my opinion, this order of events would help Americans escape the Bride-as-Princess phenomenon that in my opinion has led to so many early marriages (and early divorces) in our generation.
The other brilliant move on L’s part was having two weddings. The Traditional Chinese one was in her hometown and completely controlled by her parents. All she had to do was show up.
The wedding in Beijing that I attended had no family at all. It was just friends and classmates of the bride and groom, and L could do it all her way.
Even so, she seemed to be more exhausted by the process than excited. When we showed up on the day, she was plopped down in a chair, fanning herself. L, who never complains no matter what is happening at school and what she’s asked to do, looked up at me and moaned, “I cannot stand. How will I walk down the aisle?” When she said that she’d be glad when it was all over, I knew she meant it. It was strange to see a bride just before her wedding, in the perfect white sparkly dress , who wasn’t beaming as if it was the best day of her life. At the end she said, “I’m super exhausted. I don’t want to get married again.” Unfortunately for her, this was just her first wedding of two.
I’m not suggesting that we take away the dream of anyone who wants to have their wedding their day, and make it as special as it should be for them. This, just like everything else over here, was just a totally different experience.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Some Weddings have Arrows
Some things I’d heard about China are true; none more so than the Chinese devotion to the color red. During Chinese New Year, everything that can be is adorned in red. This is also the case for Chinese Weddings. Everything from the table cloths to the chairs to the favors to the backdrop of the stage to the Bride and Groom’s outfits was entirely red with gold details.
We, the guests sat at round tables on either side of the red carpet aisle. On our tables were bottles of bi jiu (a painfully strong Chinese liquor), cigarettes, and snacks. When the Bride (who was one of the Teacher’s Assistants at my school, named Vanilla), arrived in the doorway, I couldn’t recognize her. Her hair was woven into a headdress eight inches tall and falling past her shoulders. The groom appeared to have an ornamental beach ball tied in back of him. The ornamental gowns they wore, which trailed past them on the ground, made the traditional outfits I’d seen in museums seem bland.
During the ceremony, which had many parts, they honor the sets of parents by serving them tea and calling them “mom” and “dad” for the first time. At the end, the groom is blindfolded and made to shoot an arrow “to the heavens” or up to the ceiling, and straight across for the earth. I was lucky to have my own assistant, L, as a translator or I wouldn’t have had any idea what was going on the entire time. There was a lot of bowing from the couple, and most of the talking came from the “professional speaker”, who seemed like the MC of the wedding. There were some traditions that seemed strange to me, like cutting a piece of hair from each, and tying it together and keeping it in a box.
Some traditions were familiar with a twist of new. Towards the end the couple interlocked arms to drink wine…out of a little wooden shoe. At the end they kiss, which is hard through all of the outfits, veils, headdresses and hats. The guests all clap and shout for them to kiss longer. At times they leaned in for 10 -15 seconds, with no movement of the lips whatsoever.
At the end, the couple makes the western rounds to greet each table, but they do it with a tray of cigarettes and a shot of bi jiu at each.
Most Surprising Event: When the great-grandfather of the groom had to lie down in the middle of the floor. The bride dismissed our worries, saying, “He just drank too much always.”
Note: This wedding happened in October of last year, and it took me until now to write it up. Whoops!
We, the guests sat at round tables on either side of the red carpet aisle. On our tables were bottles of bi jiu (a painfully strong Chinese liquor), cigarettes, and snacks. When the Bride (who was one of the Teacher’s Assistants at my school, named Vanilla), arrived in the doorway, I couldn’t recognize her. Her hair was woven into a headdress eight inches tall and falling past her shoulders. The groom appeared to have an ornamental beach ball tied in back of him. The ornamental gowns they wore, which trailed past them on the ground, made the traditional outfits I’d seen in museums seem bland.
During the ceremony, which had many parts, they honor the sets of parents by serving them tea and calling them “mom” and “dad” for the first time. At the end, the groom is blindfolded and made to shoot an arrow “to the heavens” or up to the ceiling, and straight across for the earth. I was lucky to have my own assistant, L, as a translator or I wouldn’t have had any idea what was going on the entire time. There was a lot of bowing from the couple, and most of the talking came from the “professional speaker”, who seemed like the MC of the wedding. There were some traditions that seemed strange to me, like cutting a piece of hair from each, and tying it together and keeping it in a box.
Some traditions were familiar with a twist of new. Towards the end the couple interlocked arms to drink wine…out of a little wooden shoe. At the end they kiss, which is hard through all of the outfits, veils, headdresses and hats. The guests all clap and shout for them to kiss longer. At times they leaned in for 10 -15 seconds, with no movement of the lips whatsoever.
At the end, the couple makes the western rounds to greet each table, but they do it with a tray of cigarettes and a shot of bi jiu at each.
Most Surprising Event: When the great-grandfather of the groom had to lie down in the middle of the floor. The bride dismissed our worries, saying, “He just drank too much always.”
Note: This wedding happened in October of last year, and it took me until now to write it up. Whoops!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Coming Soon
I realize it's mid-June and I have one post.
It's been a really crazy month!
Here's a snippet of what's to come when I finish this school year and have time to write again:
- Chinese Wedding
- Chinese Versions of a Western Wedding
- Communist Dinner Theater
- LGBT Interview
Stay Tuned!!
It's been a really crazy month!
Here's a snippet of what's to come when I finish this school year and have time to write again:
- Chinese Wedding
- Chinese Versions of a Western Wedding
- Communist Dinner Theater
- LGBT Interview
Stay Tuned!!
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Hot Stones, Anyone?
My life in China has been significantly better since the discovery of Dragon Fly’s “Teacher Day Special.” Thanks to this lovely massage parlor down town, I’ve enjoyed many a Monday-night massage. On this day only for teachers, they offer the second hour of massage for free. The first massage is anywhere from ¥150 to ¥550 and up ($22 to $80), depending on the type.
I’ve been getting the regular “Chinese Massage” after my usual hour of foot massage. The Chinese Massage is a typical massage, but they do it over a towel. I have no idea why.
Maybe I was partly motivated to try this because my once intensely sporadic and unpredictable life in Beijing has started to be a little more familiar and comfortable. Part of me definitely didn’t want to leave China without having tried it. Either way, one day, I decided it was time to spring for the Hot Stone Massage.
The description in English for the massage was considerably short and unhelpful, so I really went in knowing nothing except that they’d be using hot stones …to massage me.
Even if you know that you are probably safe, it’s a little hard to relax when heated stones are touching your bare skin. The first time they rubbed the stones on my wrists and left them in my palms I thought, “Am I burning? Is this searing my skin??” It was really hot. Or at least it felt really hot, unnaturally hot. Luckily, it did not actually leave any marks.
After a while, when I was used to the sensation, I really started to enjoy it. It’s similar to getting your first massage, where it feels strange for people who aren’t you or a close friend to be squeezing tight on your muscles, so everything feels to hard. After a few more massages, however, all of a sudden you’re telling them, “Don’t worry. Press as hard as you can!”
(Yes, I had to rework that a few times to get it to not sound dirty.)
Basically the way the hot stone massage works is that they work on each side of both of your limbs and even your back and stomach. They choose one area, cover it in oil, and then rub two stones in concentric circles from the bottom of the area to the top. This felt really good, but for some reason tickled the hell out of my thighs. I guess I’m just not used to concentric circles of hot stone rubbing there. It was everything I could do not to jump up laughing.
Then they did my stomach, which was one of the weirder sensations I’ve ever had. It was also awesomely embarrassing, as my stomach doesn’t need any excuse to make crazy loud sounds, so of course it went crazy while being pushed and pulled with stones.
Overall, the sensation and way that it worked my muscles was amazing, and Hot Stone Massage II is definitely on my Beijing Bucket List!
I’ve been getting the regular “Chinese Massage” after my usual hour of foot massage. The Chinese Massage is a typical massage, but they do it over a towel. I have no idea why.
Maybe I was partly motivated to try this because my once intensely sporadic and unpredictable life in Beijing has started to be a little more familiar and comfortable. Part of me definitely didn’t want to leave China without having tried it. Either way, one day, I decided it was time to spring for the Hot Stone Massage.
The description in English for the massage was considerably short and unhelpful, so I really went in knowing nothing except that they’d be using hot stones …to massage me.
Even if you know that you are probably safe, it’s a little hard to relax when heated stones are touching your bare skin. The first time they rubbed the stones on my wrists and left them in my palms I thought, “Am I burning? Is this searing my skin??” It was really hot. Or at least it felt really hot, unnaturally hot. Luckily, it did not actually leave any marks.
After a while, when I was used to the sensation, I really started to enjoy it. It’s similar to getting your first massage, where it feels strange for people who aren’t you or a close friend to be squeezing tight on your muscles, so everything feels to hard. After a few more massages, however, all of a sudden you’re telling them, “Don’t worry. Press as hard as you can!”
(Yes, I had to rework that a few times to get it to not sound dirty.)
Basically the way the hot stone massage works is that they work on each side of both of your limbs and even your back and stomach. They choose one area, cover it in oil, and then rub two stones in concentric circles from the bottom of the area to the top. This felt really good, but for some reason tickled the hell out of my thighs. I guess I’m just not used to concentric circles of hot stone rubbing there. It was everything I could do not to jump up laughing.
Then they did my stomach, which was one of the weirder sensations I’ve ever had. It was also awesomely embarrassing, as my stomach doesn’t need any excuse to make crazy loud sounds, so of course it went crazy while being pushed and pulled with stones.
Overall, the sensation and way that it worked my muscles was amazing, and Hot Stone Massage II is definitely on my Beijing Bucket List!
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