I had my first, and possibly final, Ayurvedic massage today. The price was certainly attractive - I got a $30 package that included a 60 minute massage, 15 minute steam bath (puzzling that anyone would want to do that - simply passing time in Sri Lanka is not dissimilar to taking a steam bath), and 15 minutes in a dry sauna (because it just isn't hot enough here!)
The spa lobby was nice enough - shallow pool in the center with sounds of trickling water, "Sssst" signs with an image of someone covering their closed mouth with their index finger, and the few staff members around speaking in hushed tones.
Once I had paid for my package, I was handed over to my masseuse. She was a short, bow-legged Sinhalese woman in her early to mid-thirties, dressed in nurse's whites. I have to assume she had rickets as a child; I don't know what rickets are, but I know they are something only the very poor get, in childhood, and they cause bowed legs. Her command of English was minimal, but she had a pleasant smile and patient air. She led me out of the lobby through a dim hallway to an equally dim changing area, and instructed me thru single words and pantomime to remove all but my underpants, which I dutifully did under her watchful eye. I tried to be cool with that, assuming it's a cultural difference.
She then carefully wrapped my torso in a sarong and led me towards the treatment room, a private space that was snugly furnished with two massage tables (which were just that - tables; no fancy cushioned face rests here), a chair, and what looked like a wooden iron lung. The room was warm and humid, as so many Sri Lankan rooms are - a clerestory window allowed in light, air, and the sounds of both passing traffic and an apparently distressed cow. The woman gestured, indicating I was to be seated in the chair.
She placed two small bowls on the table in front of the chair - one bowl containing green tinged oil, the other, red. She proceeded to pour the green oil on my head, and then gently scrubbed. And scrubbed. And scrubbed. It wasn't an unpleasant experience, but I prefer the firm, circular motions I typically get with a "regular" massage (what is the kind of massage I get at home - deep tissue, Swedish, other? I haven't rally paid attention.) The oil had a maddeningly familiar scent. I could recall the taste of it - a savory food that involved sesame seeds and had a lemony tang. It wasn't until I was strolling the beach in Nilaveli later in the day that it hit me - zatar! Just like the zatar bread from Droubi's, which I haven't had in ages; must remember to get some when I get back.
My massage "nurse" then had me stand up and remove my sarong. She "told" me to lie down on the table face up (the gestures being: sweep hand towards table; thumb under chin; tilt head up), all while smiling encouragingly. Odd to me to start face up, but I complied. She then dotted the red oil over the entirety of my torso and placed her hands on my belly and commenced to kneading.
The skin on her palms was surprisingly rough - more what I'd expect from someone who worked in agriculture than who rubs oil on people daily - but I decided to focus on the benefit: an added exfoliation treatment, no extra cost! The kneading was a circular motion, pushing up from my sides towards my mid line, then pushing up the center of my body, then back down the sides. At this point the similarities between white bread dough and my belly became sadly and strikingly obvious.
The placement of the red oil was a clear clue, but I was still startled and discomfited when, upon finishing with the doughy lump that is my stomach, she began to massage my breasts in the same manner. I am nothing, though, if not committed to an authentic Sri Lankan experience, including its famous and ancient art of Ayurvedic medicine, so I soldiered on. Which is to say I struggled to suppress self-conscious giggles.
When finally that awkward bit was over, she repeated the same oil dotting and massaging of my arms and legs and instructed me to roll over. While I was rather ungracefully doing so, she walked over to the lung and lit a match. I couldn't see what she was doing with the flame, as her white-clad bottom was aimed squarely in my direction and blocked my view, but I assumed it was preparations for my steam bath.
Once I was face down, the remainder of the massage went without incident. My nurse did rub the backs of my knees, which was a new experience, though not awkward like the other.
Once she was finished massaging me, she walked over to the lung and lifted the lid. It was like a long wooden barbecue with a hole in one end. In place of the usual wire grill, there was a sturdy wooden lattice. Nurse Ayurveda motioned for me to climb on, then gently closed the lid over me, ensuring that my head was securely outside the hole. She draped a towel so that steam wouldn't escape around my neck and said "15 minutes," smiled and left. Despite the towel, some steam did escape - I could smell that it clearly was spiked with some sort of strange-but-not-bad smelling herb. Thankfully she came back in time for me to ask her to turn the heat down, as I felt the backs of my legs getting close to scalded. When finally she lifted the lid and I wobbled my way up and out of the contraption, the room felt positively air-conditioned! Too soon, she led me out of the room and down the hall to what looked like a large clay oven of a room - the dry sauna.
The floor was covered in the same sturdy lattice as the steamer table. The interstices were filled with various woody seeds, nuts and barks. Sections were blackened, apparently from the heat of the sauna. There was a red heat lamp in the very low, round ceiling, but I don't think that was the sole source of heat - it couldn't have been, given the extreme temperature. I believe there probably was some sort of fire lit underneath. Before closing the door, she said "come out when you like," the longest and most complete sentence I'd heard from her so far. I would have liked to come out right then, but I was committed - Sri Lankan Ayurvedic experience!
The room was a spherical shape with a flat bottom, its walls black and crusty peeling plaster. I bided my time to get my full 15 minutes worth, then clambered out and was shown to the shower, a worn looking place with cold water and a communal bar of soap. I removed my steam-soaked underpants, realizing I had to wear them for the rest of the drive to Nilaveli, and gritted my teeth under the relatively frigid tap water. Hot water did finally make its way from the ancient dust-covered heater, but by then I was done. I was handed a dingy, greige (gray+beige) towel, dried off, donned my damp underwear and was led back to the changing room.
Once I was dressed, Nurse Ayurveda led me back to the lobby where I collected my things, tipped her, and finally exited to find my driver and be on my way.
Before I left for this tour, Vinu had scheduled us not one, but two massages - one at a spa, the other at home with her masseur, whom she described in very glowing terms. Now I'm very curious what she's talking about when she says "He's just marvelous!" And I'm afraid I may have to cancel.
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