We've been seeing evidence of the strong influence of Ayurvedic medicine and health practices since arriving here in India, but nowhere has it been as strong as in Kerala. So today was our day. As soon as we arrived in Thekaddy, our driver dropped us off at his choice from among the dozens of spas offering Ayurvedic treatments. Interesting that he has a favorite and for a moment I thought his commission might be a massage. I fantasized over that for a while! But in the end the bunkroom for drivers was right next door and our hotel, just a half block away, so I guess convenience won the day.
After meeting with the receptionist, a swarthy male who explained the options, we chose the full meal deal. He promised 120 minutes of Ayurvedic bliss, and he wasn't far off. The package included a head and face massage, a full body massage, a special treatment for the first chakra called Shirodhara (more on this later), and a steam bath. We were each ushered into a room, and the doors closed, leaving me with a young woman in a modest purple uniform. She might have been 25. I glanced quickly round the barren room. There was no iPod playing lulling music through a blue tooth speaker. No scented candles, no incense, no words of wisdom on kitschy posters, no lamps putting out soft ambient light. At one end there was a bathroom, at the other a brown painted wooden box, perhaps 4ft by 3ft. There were two bare wooden platforms or planks, with thin pads, one on either side. No heated mattress pad, no plush pillows, no sheet or fluffy blanket or terry robe to wrap myself in. There was also a pot, attached to an arm that could swing from the side wall out over the table, and I took this to be the oil pot for the Shirodhara. From the tiny spout at the bottom oil would be dripped onto the canyons of wrinkles between my eyebrows.
As I stood naked in the tiny room, awaiting instructions, the woman removed from its package and then placed around my hips, a disposable covering. First she pulled each end of a long tie around me and knotted it at the back, tugging firmly to secure it. Then she reached between my legs and pulled another tie through and fastened it securely at the back. Are you getting a picture here? The whole thing sat snugly like a well-fitted string bikini, and might have served as one if it were not made of paper, although I suppose if you're going to wear one it doesn't matter what it's made of, it's going to dissolve to nothing sooner or later anyway.
First came the head and face massage to clear the mind and debunk any stress or distress in the head, neck and shoulders. If you've had a good shampoo from your hairstylist you'll know how this feels.
Likewise the long figure-eight strokes around the face and neck were familiar. The difference is in the sensation of being bathed in warm oil, and in the strength and swiftness of her hands. Every stroke is deliberate and firm.
"You okay?" [Yes]
"Now is the body massage".
I lie on my back on the hard wooden plank in anticipation of her hands. Instead, I feel drops of warm oil hitting my skin, ankle to collarbone. I struggle not to flinch! For the next 15 minutes she works my feet, calves, shins and quads, knees, arms, chest and belly. Long swift strokes intersperse with slaps and chops, pinches and pressure. Her hands glide across my oiled skin, from foot (press, slap, press, slap harder) to shin (ouch!) to knee and thigh, belly ( chop, chop, slap) and chest and back again, only to repeat. I felt like meat on a slab. The backside 20 minutes was much the same as she chopped away at the soles of my feet (I have to walk on those!)! my back and shoulders (ahhhh...ouch....ahhhh) while sweeping firmly in figure-eights up and down, down and up, warm oil being added frequently, intensifying the heat that is already radiating from my skin. Whew, made it.
I turned on to my back for the Shirodhara. It was the most curious sensation--warm oil dripping onto my forehead. If this was to put me in a trance, it worked. Lest you think this is some sort of quackery, there is published peer reviewed research on this treatment, known to induce an altered state of consciousness (trance), reduce or eliminate anxiety, and potentially create a positive immune response. I'll take it.
I didn't notice when she fired up the steam bath, the innocuous brown box I saw when I came in. When she opened the front door and positioned me on the stool, it crossed my mind that I maybe could have opted out of this part. Then she closed the door, carefully ensuring that my neck fit comfortably in the hole in the top, with my head easily resting on the top. In my sleepy state I could barely keep my head up but the guillotine-like posture was motivation enough to stay alert. Ten minutes later she was wiping me down from head to toe, removing the bikini, now drenched in oil and sweat, wrapping my head and hair tightly with a rag, also sweaty and oily, and unlocking the box that contained my valuables. A tip, and I'm out of here!
We kept those rags on our heads, as required, for a couple of hours. No one looks at you strangely. They know where you've been. A couple of shampoos later, my hair is like (pink) Kerala silk. Which is pretty much how I feel too.
I found this photo after I got home.
After meeting with the receptionist, a swarthy male who explained the options, we chose the full meal deal. He promised 120 minutes of Ayurvedic bliss, and he wasn't far off. The package included a head and face massage, a full body massage, a special treatment for the first chakra called Shirodhara (more on this later), and a steam bath. We were each ushered into a room, and the doors closed, leaving me with a young woman in a modest purple uniform. She might have been 25. I glanced quickly round the barren room. There was no iPod playing lulling music through a blue tooth speaker. No scented candles, no incense, no words of wisdom on kitschy posters, no lamps putting out soft ambient light. At one end there was a bathroom, at the other a brown painted wooden box, perhaps 4ft by 3ft. There were two bare wooden platforms or planks, with thin pads, one on either side. No heated mattress pad, no plush pillows, no sheet or fluffy blanket or terry robe to wrap myself in. There was also a pot, attached to an arm that could swing from the side wall out over the table, and I took this to be the oil pot for the Shirodhara. From the tiny spout at the bottom oil would be dripped onto the canyons of wrinkles between my eyebrows.
As I stood naked in the tiny room, awaiting instructions, the woman removed from its package and then placed around my hips, a disposable covering. First she pulled each end of a long tie around me and knotted it at the back, tugging firmly to secure it. Then she reached between my legs and pulled another tie through and fastened it securely at the back. Are you getting a picture here? The whole thing sat snugly like a well-fitted string bikini, and might have served as one if it were not made of paper, although I suppose if you're going to wear one it doesn't matter what it's made of, it's going to dissolve to nothing sooner or later anyway.
First came the head and face massage to clear the mind and debunk any stress or distress in the head, neck and shoulders. If you've had a good shampoo from your hairstylist you'll know how this feels.
Likewise the long figure-eight strokes around the face and neck were familiar. The difference is in the sensation of being bathed in warm oil, and in the strength and swiftness of her hands. Every stroke is deliberate and firm.
"You okay?" [Yes]
"Now is the body massage".
I lie on my back on the hard wooden plank in anticipation of her hands. Instead, I feel drops of warm oil hitting my skin, ankle to collarbone. I struggle not to flinch! For the next 15 minutes she works my feet, calves, shins and quads, knees, arms, chest and belly. Long swift strokes intersperse with slaps and chops, pinches and pressure. Her hands glide across my oiled skin, from foot (press, slap, press, slap harder) to shin (ouch!) to knee and thigh, belly ( chop, chop, slap) and chest and back again, only to repeat. I felt like meat on a slab. The backside 20 minutes was much the same as she chopped away at the soles of my feet (I have to walk on those!)! my back and shoulders (ahhhh...ouch....ahhhh) while sweeping firmly in figure-eights up and down, down and up, warm oil being added frequently, intensifying the heat that is already radiating from my skin. Whew, made it.
I turned on to my back for the Shirodhara. It was the most curious sensation--warm oil dripping onto my forehead. If this was to put me in a trance, it worked. Lest you think this is some sort of quackery, there is published peer reviewed research on this treatment, known to induce an altered state of consciousness (trance), reduce or eliminate anxiety, and potentially create a positive immune response. I'll take it.
I didn't notice when she fired up the steam bath, the innocuous brown box I saw when I came in. When she opened the front door and positioned me on the stool, it crossed my mind that I maybe could have opted out of this part. Then she closed the door, carefully ensuring that my neck fit comfortably in the hole in the top, with my head easily resting on the top. In my sleepy state I could barely keep my head up but the guillotine-like posture was motivation enough to stay alert. Ten minutes later she was wiping me down from head to toe, removing the bikini, now drenched in oil and sweat, wrapping my head and hair tightly with a rag, also sweaty and oily, and unlocking the box that contained my valuables. A tip, and I'm out of here!
We kept those rags on our heads, as required, for a couple of hours. No one looks at you strangely. They know where you've been. A couple of shampoos later, my hair is like (pink) Kerala silk. Which is pretty much how I feel too.
I found this photo after I got home.
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