Spanked

Today I ate my first Glutinous Rice Ball. It’s a - well, it’s a ball – of fried dough surrounding pounded sweet rice and red bean paste. My word. All I know is, in heaven, (the one I’m going to, anyway) they just sit around eating Glutinous Rice Balls and watching Ellen. And that episode of Lost where Hurley drives the blue Volkswagon bus blaring Three Dog Night from an eight track player.

So I’ve recovered from my massage, and I feel more amazing than I ever have in my life. Inside and out. Didn't I tell you about that? Oh my goodness. It’s this whole thing…

I still don’t understand it, but I seem to be scared to take trips by myself. I find myself in my room before I leave, procrastinating by trying to understand the map, or decide what to wear, or what to pack. Since I’d been to the spa before, I knew that this time I should bring some toiletries, like shampoo and face wash. Once I get ready and going, the scariness goes away, and I was excited this time, because I knew how to do this: where to go, what to bring, how much it would cost, and what I would find.

Part of the trek down the hill to get to the food, the bus, or the station.

The station at Onyang Oncheon - the train is just leaving.

I took myself by subway to Onyang Oncheon, and from there to the Paradise Hot Springs Spa. I stopped on the way to get chestnuts, and the old man selling them was so cranky! I have no idea what I was doing wrong, but he wasn’t going to sell them to me. I was doing exactly the same thing I had last time, I’m sure of it, but it wasn’t getting me anywhere. His wife ran over from chatting with the neighboring vendor and made him give me some, but that made him madder. He ended up taking my money, putting about four chestnuts in a bag, and tossing them at me. I thanked them both and bowed, and was more determined than ever to figure out this dang language. It’s so frustrating to constantly feel like I don’t know what’s going on! I might as well have been in class…

The view to the right as you exit the station in Onyang.

Anyhow, I made it to the spa, got my key and its wristband, got my locker and ordered my massage – all in Korean, thank you very much! I went to the bathroom to take my makeup off, and apparently that was a mistake. I’ve thought it over for several days, and I think I know what happened. I was supposed to walk straight from the front desk to the massage lady, but I didn’t know that, see, because last time, when I inquired about massages, there was a forty minute wait. This time I figured I would shower and soak while I waited for my time slot to come up. 

So in the middle of my face washing an angry old woman, back as straight as a ramrod, more clothed than I (she got to have on the better half of a two piece swim suit), marched in and demanded to know if I was the one getting the massage. (I don’t know exactly what she said, but I got the point.) She scared me so badly I forgot all my Korean for the rest of the night. I stuttered and stammered, and ended up just running after her as she speed-walked through the double doors, around the corner, and into the secret, sacred massage corner, which is blocked off from the hot springs by low rock walls.

There are several massage tables in a row, specially made for this situation. They have vinyl covers and neck pillows, and are very low to the ground, compared to normal ones. The floor is made of the kind of cement that has whole pebbles in it, and the air is hot and steamy. Everything is wet and dripping. She took a basin, dipped it in a barrel of water, and threw it on me, surprising me to the core. She then threw some water on the table for good measure, and gestured for me to lie down. I assumed I would be face down, and I was wrong. She gave me a good hard slap on the butt, once I got situated, and between that and other good communicating, I understood I was to be face up. 

Awkward. 

Not only was she mad (for reasons I couldn’t fathom at the time) and strong, but I was naked, and her underwear was missing one of the two pieces. (I was afraid to close my eyes though, for fear of another missed cue and a slap.)

With no further ado, she started at my feet and gave me a lightning fast, whole body scrub. I really didn’t have time to protest. I could only stare at the ceiling and pray that I wouldn’t bleed through my pores. Another slap, and I turned over, which was treacherous business, given the wet vinyl. After scrubbing that side she whacked me again and sent me out of the massage area. I went and sat down in a hot pool, which stung because of the scrubbing, and did some thinking.

I had just paid about thirty dollars to be yelled at, scared half to death, drenched, and scrubbed like a black kettle. This was not my idea of a massage. Mentally, I ran through my Korean vocabulary to try and compose my protest, but in the end, I decided I would deliver the whole thing in English, complete with cuss words and yelling. That would teach them. And the chestnut guy.

About that time, the masseuse came over and tapped me lightly on the shoulder and smiled, motioning me back to the massage parlor. I was a little wary, and expecting to be sent away again at any moment. It reminded me of the bus driver in Suwon, who was just trying to point things out and I kept thinking he was telling me to get off. 

I paid close attention to her every move though, this time, trying to determine what I was supposed to do, and we began to be able to communicate. She was able to see that I was trying, I wasn’t stupid and was able to be taught. I was able to see that she was very skilled, very kind, and just unused to dealing with foreigners. 

Sigh. 

I wish there were words I could write that would deliver to you what the next hour plus felt like to me. She washed my hair and massaged my head. This was a bit rough on me, at first, because I didn’t understand what was going on. She was using a technique where she lifted up different body parts and dropped them. I'm not used to people doing that with heads. I thought at first that she was still upset, or careless, but I realized, after paying attention both to her and how it felt, that she was doing something. I could feel the buzzing you get when your chi has been blocked and starts flowing. Her fingers were like machine gun fire – she would pick up my head, feel the back of my neck in two places, drop my head, be at my feet, press specific points all along my body, and be back at my head before I could count to three. She was checking something on the back of my neck, and it wasn’t ready. She put some kind of lotion on it that smelled like peppermint and burned a bit, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Apparently, she needed to let that do some work before it could be massaged.

There were many steps to what she did, with many scrubs, lotions and oils. I recognized some of the scents, like ginger and peppermint, but others were completely foreign to me. They smelled so good, and it was so strange not to be able to even guess what they were. She scrubbed me in earnest this time, and didn’t miss a square centimeter. She soaped me up and rinsed me off. I was on my back, stomach, sides, sitting up, lying down, arms out, arms in. I was pounded, beaten, scrubbed, and slapped until I am but a vestige of my former self. At one point she climbed on top of me – me who was precariously perched on slippery, oily, vinyl! – and walked up and down my entire body.

At last the places on my neck that she kept checking were satisfactory, and she massaged my shoulders until you would never know that I have been walking up and down stairs with a backpack non-stop since I left home.

She gave me a face massage and mask, a hot towel treatment, pumice stone on my feet, until I was practically purring. That I liked it all so much made her happy, I could tell. She was very warm with me by the time I left, leading me to wonder if I'd passed some kind of Korean strength test.

Her looks would have deceived you, but, circumstances being what they are, I can’t elaborate. Just listen to me - in order to avoid tangling with secret ninja masters, simply follow this rule of thumb I’ve recently written: 

Whenever you meet an elderly Korean woman, or are just near one, or know someone who has seen one, all parties involved should bow deeply and give her whatever she wants. Even if it is to agree that you’ve sat on top of her and stolen her seat, or to let her communicate by slapping you on the ass.