In Search of a Happy Ending

As the plane comes to land in Singapore, it occurs to me that I probably should have booked a room at the transit hotel.  The last few weeks have been exhausting (for reasons I’ll explain another time), and I am so tired and sore that all I can think of is a nice bed for an hour or two, especially seeing as I’m only 5 hours into my travels and am still yet to make it to Munich.

I make my way to the Ambassador, but there are no rooms.  I am devastated at the loss of a hot shower and a snooze in an actual bed, which felt so close.  Instead I make my way to My Foot Reflexology, in the hope that I can at least get some relief for my aching back.  I ask her what they have in the way of a back massage, and she recommends the 45 minute shiatsu massage.  I don’t know what that involves, but she has me at ‘you can lie down’, and that’s it, I’m hooked.

She selects one of her masseuses, a young gentleman who appears to be mute.  They lead me to a room and I lie down on the bed, fully clothed and waiting for the relief to begin.  I could immediately feel that the stress of the last few weeks had taken their toll on my body, every muscle screaming as the masseuse pressed and pummelled and kneaded.  Turns out shiatsu is not the kind of massage you want when you want to relax.  I was aching in spots I wasn’t even aware of, probably due to the fact he was poking, producing and rubbing me in spots I didn’t even know could be massaged.

The masseuse was grunting away as he used every ounce of his strength to unknot the mess my muscles had got into and the force was making the massage bed shake and squeak.  At times he was sitting over me, in rather awkward positions and I found myself wondering whether there would be a happy ending to this massage (mind out of the gutter) or whether I would be ending up looking like a bruised, mottled mess tomorrow.

But finally the 45 minutes was up, and after a cup of tea, I unsteadily left for the safety of a lounge chair where I stopped for a while to try and regain my composure and lose the foggy head that the massage had given me before boarding my flight to Munich.

So we’ll see how I feel tomorrow, but next time, think I’ll remember to get a room.

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