Massage Monday

I did a very taitai* thing today.


I got a massage. At 11:00 a.m. On a Monday.

I don't do much of this sort of thing (lunch dates and midday manis) too often, but seeing as how the Monday blues will no doubt dawn in San Francisco with my impending employment (fingers crossed), I'm taking advantage.

I tried out Zen Massage, a little sanctuary that welcomes patrons through a small courtyard of pebbles adjacent to a waterfall wall of limestone. It's not too far from our place, and I've walked by it enough times to warrant a visit.

Feeling adventurous, I scoffed at the familiar and went for a traditional Chinese massage (RMB118, or less than $20). It was an hour of painful bliss; the masseuse seemed to have brassed her knuckles and fingertips while at other times applying some serious elbow grease. I hesitated in asking her to ease up, because just as I was about to reach my breaking point, she'd apply a soothing touch that made it all worthwhile.

The whole time, I kept wishing my Chinese was better so that I could ask about the knots in my back she seemed to be working so hard to untie -- was it stress or bad posture? Was one aligned with a specific organ? Am I not drinking enough water or eating enough veggies? Although I can probably guess that answer...

It's safe to say that I'll be returning to Zen as the homecoming countdown sets in and I embrace my taitai title for just a couple of more months.


*taitai is "wife" or "Mrs." in Chinese and synonymous with a trailing spouse of the female variety, who fills her days with lunch and spa dates, and constantly talks about her "ayi" (Chinese for "housekeeper") at women's club meetings.