My first foray into a day spa was more confronting than I would have liked. It was some years ago, when spas were just starting to pop up around Bali. This particular spa was in Ubud. I don't remember the name of it, other than it was down a gang off Monkey Forest Rd.
I'd booked in for a 3 hour treatment. I happily donned a sarong & lay on a comfy table, in a three sided room overlooking a walled cobbled courtyard garden. Greenery abounded, as it tends to in Bali. I had a few layers of skin primped & pampered with essential oils and massage, followed by a yoghurt treatment. The massage lady was very careful to preserve my dignity by moving the sarong so some bits of me were more accessible, but my lady bits remained covered. Whilst basting in white goo, I eagerly watched a humungus tub being filled with water & a dazzling display of colored petals & frangipani, so I knew what was coming next!
No I did not! Holy Mother of sweet virgins! I was expected to get up and go and rinse off under an outdoor shower, sneakily hidden in an earthenware pot in the wall of the courtyard garden - I say sneakily because I had no idea it was there & thus no time to ease myself into the idea of bathing in the open, accessible to any Tom, Dick or Ketut who might happen to be up a palm tree picking coconuts at the time! Ye gods!
And it got worse! As I got off the massage table, the massage lady stood there trying to wrestle the only thing between me & complete nudity from my person! I clutched that sarong to me for dear life, but though she was tiny, she had the power of a mammoth and managed not only to whip my material protection from my white knuckled hands but had the impudence to shoo me towards the sneakily hidden outdoor shower and stood watching to see if I could manage to turn on the tap on my own. So I waddled to the shower in self-conscious mortification, terrifyingly aware of every cellulitic wobble, the sun shining on my never been seen in sunshine lady bits, bitterly regretting my cowardice in not getting a Brazilian or at least a wax before my trip. OMG - I have never been starkers in front of a stranger, not since I took my first breath! Not reassured by the wicked shards of glass embedded in top of the high wall, I was able to do a quick reconnaissance of the surrounding trees for perving coconut pickers, a shrill hysterical scream on standby. Whilst showering, evil massage lady (as she will now be known) pottered around the room, tidying up. So I showered with no privacy, pondering the false sense of security I had cunningly been lulled into by the careful placement of the sarong during my treatment.
I probably stood under that damn shower until I was a prune, as I was unsure of the protocol once I turned off the water. Not just uncertain - scared witless! Do I just 'casually' walk back into the room pretending that I'm not at all butt naked & dripping water all over the floor? I had no towel either.
When I summoned the guts to turn off the sneakily hidden shower, evil massage woman waved me towards the awaiting flower bath. Almost emitting a small tidal wave, I leapt into the flower bath and sank up to my neck, for once grateful that the addition of my body into the bath raised the water level to within an inch of the rim. Evil massage woman decided it was a good time to leave the room while I soaked. Halleluiah!
I could not help noticing that there was a stand full off big fluffy towels well away from the perimeter of the bath. Dammit, is there no end to my humiliation! She's sure to come back in just before I manage to grab a towel. Sure enough, I got sprung. Evil massage woman had returned with a steaming glass of ginger tea, when in fact all I wanted was a tall something heavily alcoholic & keep 'em coming!
Relaxed I was not. Rejuvenated? Hmm, no. Though spectators may have mistaken my constant full body blush for a recently exfoliated glow. I could not wait to get out of there & have not had a spa treatment since! I don't think my heart could take it!
Cheers.