Blog 20 - Are You Relaxed Yet?

9 days. 70 hours of massage training. My fingers... they burn.

70 hours is too much massage for any one man. Tuesday to Friday was 9am-7:30pm, with almost constant practice and lectures. Still, entirely worth it. For those who don’t know, I visited Chiang Mai this week to the school of International Thai Massage to learn the art of German sausage making.

Wait. No, I’m pretty sure it was Thai Massage. Clue is in the name. I left Thursday evening, actually with Matthias. He was going travelling for a week as well, and we caught the same bus, just. 

"I was promised a limo"

A good 13 hours later, I emerged blinking in the light and shouldering my pack to a wholly confusing city. Thankfully, my hotel offered free transport, so I got on the proffered tuk-tuk and enjoyed a scenic, yet terrifying route through the winding streets of Chiang Mai. I was checking in then napping on the double bed in about 20 minutes.

I emerged from my cave determined to do some exploring, taking some tips from the very friendly receptionist, Ann, I found lunch and ventured forth to find the ITM headquarters. And found it, surprisingly. Though, this is Thailand. They’d changed their building, and neglected to tell anyone or even change the maps. The rough route on the old building made it look like a 2 minute walk, and I only had to pass one major road. So, 10 minutes later and passing three roadways, and a sign saying “ITM <-- 200m” (back the way I had come) I found their building. I promptly paid for my courses and handed over passport copies and pictures. I’m pretty sure Thai bureaucrats actually eat these, since I have to offer them when I exchange money, traveller’s cheques, attend anything or try to buy a pancake without a signed “Consumable Batter Product” form.

The rest of the day I spend dozing and listening to the rest of the “Drunk Tank” podcasts I have on my laptop. I rose up and early the following day to begin my courses, I’ll break them down into sections.

Thai Table

My first course, at the weekend. This was a two day course designed to be a two hour treatment with the vict- client laying on the table while I do all the work. I was introduced to my teachers, Sri – a lovely Thai woman in her late forties and Lar – an excellent Thai masseuse just breaking into his forties. I was joined by two others, Leslie – a sports therapist from the Cayman Islands and Rachel – an accountant from Australia.

Sri and Lar

Whilst the two women paired up, I was left to the mercies of Sri and Lar. There’s something about doing massage on someone who can probably kill you in one of 14 differed ways with just their fingers that sharpens concentration. The first day was mostly theory and leg work. Whilst Leslie had finished the Level 1 course, and had decades of massage experience, both Rachel and I were newbies. It’s much more than just massage, I soon discovered. It appears to be a sort of meditation and purifying ritual for them, as demonstrated by a mantra and frequent “Wais” (Thai hand-prayer-greeting-thing) to a certain “Father Shivago”, and Indian yoga teacher alive a few millennia ago. Though, it was brief. I learned a lot more in Level 1, but right now it was just background.

The leg work was relatively straight forward palm pressure with some circling on key points. After lunch we moved onto more complex stuff – Sen Energy lines. There are 6 main lines on each leg, and were thumb pressed up and down to rejuvenate or something. We spend a few hours doing it, they’re quite important. Sri was having none of my inexperience get in the way of sloppy Sen line work. Just a centimetre off would earn me a shriek and a slap round the arm, and I quickly learned the Sen positions off by heart and thumb pressed them to her Chakra’s content. The first day was finished, and I didn’t realise how hard it would be. I have shitty posture at the best of times, but to this art form, it was just offensive. Lar made sure to correct my stance at every time, but I still went home with an aching back and elbows. The table was set pretty low, and I had to bend to reach. Therefore, I was treated to some of Lar’s mastery – he asked me to sit down, and before I knew it he had his leg round my shoulders and was twisting my spine. At one point, I was stretched down, head on his stomach, his arms had locked my elbows backwards and he was massaging, and balancing, my back on his toes. He stopped and said “Rob, relex” as if my tension was ridiculous, considering he could have snapped my vertebra like a fleshy breadstick. As I relaxed and trusted him, he began twisting my neck until it popped.

"Are you relaxed yet?"

Thai massage is the very definition of “heaven through hell”. It’s full of awkward positions, fingers dug into pressure points and joints stretched to their limit, yet half an hour later, every part of you feels wonderful. And as I collapsed into bed, my back felt perfect. I also appeared to have a working spine and connected nervous system, which is always a plus.

One thing that seemed to help me was my ability to speak Thai. Being able to ask how they were, if the pressure was good, were they in pain, should that bone be sticking out or say I understood really warmed me to them. I think I was adopted by Sri, who became like my other, other, other, other mother. Since I’m so young (“just a baby!”) it probably seemed natural to her. She mentioned her daughter was older than I was, and Lar’s son was my age.

The next day was very different, we began with the “hara”, a stomach massage designed to aid digestion and re-organise your life energy. This involved a lot of pressing of stomachs and internal organs not usually pressed. I also had no idea if I was doing it correctly, but with Sri’s... not gentle, but insistent tutoring, I eventually perfected the art of stomach poking. We moved on to back and neck. This was much simpler, no pressure points or life lines, just “press this, it feels good”, or “palm circle this, it’s relaxing”. Much more my style. The day was finished and I had one qualification under my belt, apparently I met Sri’s high standards. 

Sri, Rachel, Leslie and some English twat

It was now I learned about the two types of Thai massage, Northern and Southern. Northern is the one practiced in Chiang Mai, and Southern is the type in Bangkok and the Islands. Northern is more about stretches and gentle pressure, whilst Southern is about getting your fingers, literally, stuck in. It’s clear which style Lar operates. Table was mix of the two, the hard pressure points of the South, but some stretches and movements were inspired by the North. Though, Southern isn’t to be confused with what you get in Patpong or the seedier parts of Phuket. As the boss Chongkol often said “no clothes, not Thai massage”.

I was warned that Level 1 would be a whole new kettle of very relaxed fish.

Level  1

Level 1, or basic Thai massage was a five day course and is the sort of thing ITM is known for. There were 14 of us in the class, not bad considering Leslie had 22. The day started off badly, with yoga. We were packaged with the Level 4s, and literally 20 seconds into the stretches, I knew I wasn’t going to fit in. They had their legs behind their heads and arms bent into the perfect pretzel knot before you could say “Qi”. Whilst I can touch my toes comfortably, I can’t Japanese sit, grip my toes with my hands whilst rocking backwards and keep my legs straight, my knees and elbows only bend one way and I can’t dislocate my jaw and swallow an Ostrich egg whole. At least I have an excuse, I’m still growing, and therefore my body still isn’t in the perfect alignment. Thankfully, at least one other wasn’t born to a human father and a Jellyfish mother. He was Juan from Spain, and was about as inflexible as I was. We bonded on this immediately, and spent the day as practice partners.

That lunch I met and began talking with some others, a lovely French couple named Sorlin and Marie and a couple of Aussie girls. Since I could speak passable Thai, I was immediately nominated translator. Since my speciality is food and bartering prices, I filled the role well. That weekend I had to completely check – and dispute – the prices for Leslie and Rachel. What they probably saw was me speaking gibberish, but checking the prices in Thai is completely natural to me now.

That week, by some staggering cosmic coincidence I seem to stumble into on a daily basis, was ITM’s 4^th anniversary for something , they had posters in the hall. Therefore, both reflexology and Chair massage were being offered at 1100Baht cheaper, roughly £22. I signed up to both, thinking I might as well enjoy the week to the fullest.

The next day I paired up with Sorlin, and spent the day comfortably chatting whilst dabbling in Asian magic neither of us understood. Doing table massage had offered me a massive advantage, the trickiest parts of Level 1, the Sen lines and the Hara, both required you to memorise a lot of precise information. Thanks to Sri, I had them down. Table also borrowed a lot from Level 1, so many of the leg and neck massages were already committed to memory.

Another great deal from their 4^th year of something was a Spa Mantra (a subsidiary of ITM) treatment off a herbal steam sauna. 500Baht down to 30Baht. Deal. So, I got there to slip into something more uncomfortable, kind of towel fabric boxer shorts. Then I spend 30 minutes in a small airtight room with five other women from my course. I began chatting, and my travel experience actually allowed me to hold conversation. Spending 30 minutes in tight conditions with five women in sarongs might sound like a 13 year old’s fantasy, but it was designed to make us sweat and remove toxins via our pores, so it was hardly a sexy experience. For both sides. Though it gave me a chance to get to know the others from my course, and found many of them to be significantly less crazy then I expected. One told me about Tiger Kingdom, a place you actually climb into a tiger cage and pose for photos whilst another regaled us with stories about south Thailand. Think I made the right choice to stay north. I felt cleansed, and we snacked on natural rice crackers and the most delicious cordial I’ve ever tasted. I got the recipe, it’s culinary plan #1 for England. After more chatting for about an hour, eating all the snacks and drinking all the cordial we were politely thrown out. I think the whole thing was a ploy to get us to look and see “oh look! I can get a hot stone compress and mud bath while I’m here”. Maybe it would have worked, if I wasn’t a student. When I’m a millionaire, I’ll come back and the shit compressed and steamed out of me. Maybe literally, I didn’t read the whole list of treatments.

The next day I was with Lydia, a great girl from Australia- sorry, NEW ZEALAND. By now we were getting to the complex yoga stuff, with names and instructions that should be in the Karma Sutra. “Cowboy Rides the Horse” and “Frog Sitting” as both such “stretches”, with directions like “open receiver’s feet apart” and “raise feet above head and sit down”. Seriously, those are direct quotes. I guess Level 4 gets really kinky stuff. Lydia was flexible, as was the norm in the class except for me. So bending legs around and making knees point in odd directions was a breeze. I think my inflexibility was made up for, in part, by long legs and the fact Lydia was pretty small. My balance was still shit though, so remaining poised on my toes whilst hovering above someone I could crush with a single slip was a little harrowing.

It was at this point I started to feel like an outsider. For one thing, I’ve never done yoga in my life. I don’t have a tattoo, and that was the main conversation starter behind yoga. I was at least 5 years junior to everyone there and am doing massage as an interesting side project, and am not a professional. I also seemed to be the only one speaking English. I heard people talk about how it was a “thunderstorm for the soul” to do acupressure. I learned how some Chinese head rub was like a “defrag for your mind” whilst another really helped her “energy to start moving around”. I just sat there giggling with the bullshit, until I realised people were nodding sagely and passing business cards. It seems to me the women here are very high maintenance, if you didn’t treat life threatening ailments with acupuncture and reforming your Chakra, sling your hook, buddy. I thought about joining a conversation and seeing how far I could make it on just pure bullshit, but they’d probably tear out my life force through my navel, or eat my soul.

The last day of training, Thursday was again, relatively easy. The main part was the hara (stomach massage) followed by a bit of hand and arm work. Again, almost all was done in basic by Table. I was even able to teach my partner, Jody another girl from the land of Steve Irwin and Yahtzee Croshaw, about what to do. It’s pretty tricky to get right first time. I think of all my partners, Jody was the one I got alone best with. After class I did some more practicing of the yoga bits and helped Jody remember the Sen lines of the legs. Both of us had it by the end.

Friday was the day of judgement. It began with Qi Jong in the park. It looks like what would happen if I drunk danced, and people began copying it into Yoga Lore. Some of the moves I’ve actually performed, probably while singing Eagle-Eye Cherry’s ‘Save Tonight’ before finding a corner and curling up. All was backed up by a Chinese girl making hilarious noises for the beats.

My examination. I was confident, as Leslie had told me as long as you stick to under two hours, you’ll be fine. The instructors actually want you to pass, which is a welcome change from England’s A-Level and driving test system. I think as long as your partner isn’t screaming, and you do everything in order, you’ll come out great. Turns out, as usual, I was right. It’s such a burden being a genius. I got 95 out of 100, for those who failed statistics, that’s 95%. I lost a couple of marks for posture and some more for wrong hand positions in a couple of other positions. Nothing life threatening. My partner for the exam was randomly drawn, and was Jody. Considering we’d spend the past day perfecting it, it couldn’t have gone better. I was also helped by the music. 20 minutes in, I began picking up a few beats here and a melody there. When I concentrated more, I figured out it was a Chinese pipe rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Sounds of Silence’. Best. Meditation music. Ever.

So, that was my first major course done, and with flying colours. We got some group photos done and most of us parted ways.

Reflexology

This was a four day evening class following Level 1. It was taught by two teachers, one named “Gift”, the other “O”. O was one of the cutest people I’ve ever seen. Her cheeks were more dimple than anything else, she seemed to flit around the room and squeaked every so often. Thai reflexology is very different from anything else, at least different from what my Mum learnt. It involves more massage and joint work on a superficial level, but you also use a special stick for the pressure points – which is awesome. You hold it kind of like Voldemort holds his wand:

"Avada KeAcupressure!"

And use it to directly and accurately interact with the various organs of the body represented by the sole of the foot. It was much more relaxed, no Yoga, no stretching, just some cream, some balm and a stick. Even the teachers treated it as a relaxing aside to the “proper” Thai Massage. I think Gift fell asleep mid-way through the demonstration. There were a few from my class, Lydia the New Zealander and a Czech/French couple who I knew. Most of it was very simple, reflexology isn’t meant to tax you to your very core, it’s meant to be sit down and enjoy experience. Though, I had to sit on the floor. The little stools were too high for me and my poor back.

The atmosphere was great, people were chatting, masseuses and massagees all speaking to one another. I even learnt some Thai off Gift and O, when she wasn’t floating. O has a bit of an odd streak. She spent two whole days trying to convince me she was ladyboy, who had an operation when she was young. It was obviously metaphorical bollocks. Her feet and hands were all in proportion, she had no Adam’s apple, she had a woman’s... shape and a genuinely high voice. If she were telling the truth, she must have had serious surgery and hormone replacement at age 11 and I doubt any parent or surgeon would agree to that. I would have happily had surgery to become a PokeMon Master at age 11. Luckily, there is an age limit on these things. She then tried to convince the whole group, who in a polite and friendly manner, shouted her down. When she left the room we got Gift to spill. Surprisingly, she isn’t a ladyboy. Well, she never gave me a definitive answer.

I made a couple of big, though hilarious mistakes. The only one to mind was with the balm. It’s Tiger Balm, for those who don’t know, Tiger Balm is heaven in a pot. It’s like Deep Heat/Freeze spray, and creates a really warm and numbing feeling when applied. At some points of my life, I’ve been held together by willpower and Tiger Balm. India for example. I used a ‘little’ too much of the stuff when working with Lydia, and covered her whole knee in a layer of the stuff. Then, with the same hand, I applied cream to her whole leg and foot, without realising the balm was still on my fingers. A couple of minutes later, she was gasping as her whole leg simultaneously burned and froze and my eyes were watering from the smell of it. I always wondered what would happen if I used too much on me, now I know. I have a snarky little remark on my “notes” page from her, something to remember fondly in years to come. Then again, she was quite forceful with the reflexology stick when doing my pressure points, I suppose it’s fair.

Again, I passed the exam with 95%. Ain’t no thang.

Thai Chair

The discounted weekend course I booked myself. Awkwardly, I was the only one who did so. Just me, alone in a room, with two teachers. I thought they’d be bitter about losing their weekend, but they were the picture of good humour and professionalism. I suppose if they hadn’t been with me, they’d be doing hard labour helping the building move go smoothly.

I was with Nim – one of the tutors from Level 1, she was always making jokes, which I often didn’t get. Thai humour is odd, and Pop – I think an assistant who I’d seen doing some office work concerning signatures and stuff before the exam. Both of them spoke good English, and Chair is very relaxing. Sit down, lean forward and bury your face in a giant head pillow. 

Face - meet pillow

Chair is less one coherent flow like Table or Reflexology, it’s more a collection of 5-6 mini treatments for when you’re running low on time. Many of them can be done on the bus or quickly in a lunch break. They’re based loosely into back, arms, shoulders and head and neck. All can be interchanged and there’s no proper order. I like the knowledge of being armed with some very useful techniques for any occasion. Kind of like a masseuse boy scout.

Again, I passed the exam, with 98% this time. I just lost some on my crappy posture and bent arms.

Before I left, I met Lar, Gift and O and was able to give them a proper farewell. They wished me all the best for my travels, and I gave a heartfelt thank you for the week I'd spent.

So, straight after this I left for the bus station and waited for a fair few hours. Whilst boarding, I stumbled into Sorlin and Marie, who were motor biking through Thailand. I found Marie had fallen off, and broken her arm and torn a gash in her leg. So, best of luck and a swift recovery to her. I jumped off the bus to give them a proper goodbye, even calling on my French knowledge. Small world.

The bus trip was annoyingly Thai, it said it would arrive at 9am. It arrived at 6:30am in Udon Thani, so when I knocked on Sabine’s door, I was over an hour early, and she was still in bed, and understandably, repulsed by my bright and cheery appearance.

If you’re in Chiang Mai, and have the money and time, check out ITM. Just doing a weekend course would be great. The staff are excellent, the resources are very good and the place is beautiful. When I come back as a millionaire, I’ll want to do the rest of the levels, and maybe explore the Spa Mantra. Another time, another place.

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