Who does not relax, is guilty
We would go to a cafe together, I thought. We would talk, get to know each other better. I was only a few months in the Philippines at the time. But my girlfriend Bizzy wanted to go to a massage parlor this afternoon. I thought: The arms probably have their backs. But Bizzy did a great job, and she had not only booked the massage for herself, but for me as well. "I need it once a week," she said. "And you should get used to it too."
Soon we lay naked and dumb side by side on the massage benches. The curtain between our two séparées was raised, and two women started working on our backs. "Is the pressure okay?" They asked. Then there was silence. Only sometimes interrupted by a small scream of pain or moaning - indication of a particularly tense muscle.
The Philippines is massaging everywhere
I knew what Bizzy felt. Even later, when only now and then a comforting sigh was heard. At some point we both have to be relaxed. An almost intimate experience.
Anyway, I felt closer to Bizzy after a visit to the café. Since this first time, we often arrange for such trips and let the connecting forces of massage on us. Like other girlfriends in the Philippines too. Here they do not say, "Let's have a coffee together," but, "Let's go to the spa together."
And there are countless of them in Manila: small dark rooms with nothing more than a few primitive loungers, but also luxurious facilities with fountains, ethnocles and orchids. They have sonorous names like "Heavenly Oasis" or "Good Image Spa". You can have massages on street corners, in public parks, at the pool of five-star hotels and in shopping malls. Masseurs who offer their services on banners on the streets also come to the office or home. The phone numbers of particularly skilled representatives of their guild are passed on by friends as secret tips among themselves.
On my way home from work, I pass a group of blind masseurs who set up their plastic chairs next to an eight-lane road. Then take on tired office workers or sales assistants who knead their backs after a long day at work. With their eyes closed, they sit there and sink further and further into each other. It was unimaginable for me to be able to relax with this engine noise and continuous horn - until I tried it. And: After only a few minutes, the magic hands push everything else around me to the edge of my consciousness. Only the pressure on the neck and the cramped shoulders counts.
The massage parlors in the Malate nightlife district even open the whole weekend at the weekend. Those who need a break from dancing can relax with a reflexology or head massage. After a few hours in our favorite club "The Bed" my husband and I gladly accept the offer for our tired feet. A better way to chill does not exist. We sink into comfortable soft leather couches and surrender uselessly to the hands of the friendly therapists, who first soak our feet in warm water, then gently dry them off and then tenderly press them.
And this feeling seems very much appreciated in the Philippines. Even small children are encouraged to massage their grandmothers and grandfathers. This is self-evident - and to make it especially tasty, there are sweets for it. Other family members, friends or co-workers also lend each other a hand. And the drivers of Tricycles, as the public transport mopeds are called here with sidecar, pass the time they wait for customers on the roadside, with mutual back kneading. As couch the motorcycle seat serves.
Massages in this country, you just seem to trust everything. Once, when I was in bed with a high fever, my maid, Beth, brought a masseuse to us. "You just try," she said. "Just try it." The woman should knead my tonsillitis. Determined, she sat down with me under a bed sheet, a pot of boiling herbal mud transformed the atmosphere under the cloth in the sauna, and then tirelessly pressed my knee and arm bends.
There are even massages to promote fertility in the Philippines
This maid, who wanted to get pregnant at 40, drove to her mother's land, where an old woman gave her a fertility massage. It may be that the psyche was involved as well. Your son has just celebrated his first birthday. And she is already planning the next trip to the knowledgeable hands in the province. "I just try," she says. "I'll just try it."
Sometimes, however, you also get completely unprepared and incidentally enjoy a massage. For example, my hairdresser kneaded my hands and arms while the tint worked, and my friend Anke from Germany, a waitress, rubbed her neck while she took the order.
We actually thought that after four years in the Philippines we had experienced all varieties of massage. But the recent visit to a karaoke bar taught at least my husband a better. When he stood in the washroom, suddenly a stranger laid his hands on his shoulders from behind. He jumped in horror, afraid of a raid. But then he realized that the alleged criminal was in truth the toilet guard, who wanted to get him through a bit - a service of the house.
