Sylvia's Journal

Tonight I had my second massage in only four days. I am trying out the enormous variety and supply of massage places – with prices so low I could have one every day. M had scheduled her 3 hour indulgence but then backed off, having to work when our office in Washington wakes up. In hindsight this was a good decision (not the long work day but the quality of the massage). I stuck with my plan, a two hour event, first a foot massage then hot stones.

It was the first massage for my recovering left foot, so I requested a gentle touch and the foot was relieved. The hot stone massage was not quite like the soothing and gauzy massage in our previous hotel. It wasn’t the heat of the stones (the masseuse handled them under loud ‘ouches’) but rather the power of the masseuse. Moderate touch was more than I could bear, even ‘soft’ was pretty darn intense. I think I’ll try my next massage in one of the other twenty or so places in the neighborhood.

The massage parlor was just heating up when I was done around 10:30 PM. I was surprised about the number of men among its clientele, some with their women, who came in for a foot massage. It was clearly an outing, with plenty of room for a party of six or eight. They seemed to have a jolly time, drinking coffee and texting incessantly. One couple came in with what looked like his or her mother in law. Imagine that, taking your mother in law and your spouse out for a massage on Thursday evening. Well, why not?

My posts may suggest that only M is working hard (she is) but that is the nature of her assignment (getting everyone and everything to the right place at the right time in the right quantities and in full compliance with all the rules and regulations – no small feat!). In between all these indulgences work is being done as I am starting to ramp up and getting into gear for a very busy next week.

Our fancy hotel has a butler service. He first showed up virtually on my TV screen – only his body, above the knees and below the neck – wonder why he is headless. Maybe this allows us to fantasize that he is our favorite guy?

The butler also is behind button #1 on my phone and shows up, this time a woman, to check my room, bring my room service and what not. I wonder whether all live butlers are women. Serving is an art that the Filipinos have mastered well, male and female alike: my masseuse in Kabul and those in many other places of the world hail from here; my colleague’s mom is a nurse, one of the Philippines major exports; even the brother of our taxi driver who lives in LA is, he told us, “taking care of someone over there.”

Yesterday we arrived too late at our new hotel, after completing our third trip across town, to eat a meal at any of the hotel restaurants. Too pooped to explore the neighborhood eateries I ordered the only appealing item on the room service menu, beer-batter fish sticks and a local beer. After that I took a seas salt bath and watched TV right from the tub.

Breakfast on the 21st floor was arranged for all time zones and for people from other countries who only eat their own food. As a result it looked like breakfast, lunch and dinner were all served at the same time. I sampled pieces of Chinese, Arab, Japanese, and French breakfasts and left the restaurant too full for comfort. Buffets require such discipline.

The luxuries that surround us contrast starkly with the street kids that hang around McDonalds down the street and an enormous mall that is obscenely opulent with more food than whole villages could consume in a week or maybe even a month. The kids are barefoot and smoke what appear to be cigarettes. When a loud honking Jollybee (a McDonald wannabee chain) parade came by the children clapped. But none of the Jollybee people whose heads were hidden underneath giant plastic hamburgers and chicken patties, handed them anything edible.

The mall is big (though not the biggest one in Asia which I am told is nearby) and rather intense if you don’t like loud blaring music, cellphone company frenzies or frantic food courts. We were looking for a printing place, like Copycat or Kinkos but all we could find was a sketchy internet café – it looked liked a great source for viruses.

Lunch and dinner were Japanese – I am in seventh heaven as Japanese is my favorite cuisine. We are clearly in the biosphere of Japan with restaurants serving all my favorite foods both inside and outside the hotel, in the mall, take out, eat in and for breakfast.