A real good rub-down

I finally made it to Kerala, and more importantly, I'm finally on vacation. I arrived here with my nasty chest cold still hanging on, so I figured I should take advantage of being in the birthplace of ayurveda and get some treatment. I went to see the doctor at Ayush Bhavan Ayurvedic Hospital in Thiruvananthapuram who gave me a mysterious collection of black tablets (which had to be CHEWED!) and brown liquids. Tasted horrific, but after 3 days of it I felt much much better. The more pleasant part of the treatment was a series of ayurvedic massages with specially prepared oils. These were unlike anything I have previously experienced. I went into the room with Aysha, the masseuse, and was told to strip naked. She then dressed me in what I can only describe as a loin cloth - a string around my waist with a strip of muslin hanging in the front, which Aysha pulled through my legs and tucked into the back of the string.* I sat down on a stool while she took some heated oil in her palms, seemed to pray over it, and then rubbed it into my scalp. Once the head massage was complete, I climbed onto a high, elaborately carved, wooden table. What felt like litres of warm, scented oils were poured onto me and rubbed over every part of my body (and do mean every part) in an intricate pattern. When I was finished, I had to be helped off the table because I was so slippery with oil.

What came next was perhaps the most memorable part. Aysha took me into the adjoining bathroom so I could wash off. This seemed reasonable; otherwise I probably would have broken bones just trying to get up the stairs, let alone home, because I was so slippery. What I hadn't realized, however, was that Aysha was going to bathe me. She dumped warm water over me, lathered up my hair, and soaped my whole body with her hands. She rinsed me well with buckets of warm water. It was a little awkward at first, but actually kind of nice. I guess this is part of the whole package. I couldn't relish it as much as I could have because I was trying so hard not to let any water get in my mouth and trying to keep the oil from running into my eyes. On top of that, all I could think about was the memory of walking through the Latin Quarter in New Orleans a few years ago and stumbling upon a "wash-your-own-girl" bar. I didn't go in to check that one out, but the idea kept coming back to me at the Ayur hospital. Somehow, though, I think I had the better experience of the two.

*On the second day, no loin cloth was offered. When I asked if she was going to put one on me, she flicked her hand and said "No" as if this was the most ridiculous thing I could have suggested.