Back in our old days of dating, N and I would sometimes visit walk-in massage parlors after a neck-breaking day at work. They were cheap so naturally the package included oil-sodden mattresses, noises from the television, and loud chattering from neighboring patrons. We’d also be placed apart from one another, often separated by heavy curtains. Wet blanket alert: only married couples were allowed to be in the same space.
So last Friday night, we went for a couples massage (at last!) to sort the muscle knots that stemmed from months of wedding preparation. It was a wedding gift from my mom, and definitely one of the loveliest we'd received. We visited this Balinese retreat for a night of some long, delicious pampering. The place must be a haven built for those who work in the Golden Triangle— it happens to be a stone-throw away from a cluster of offices.
Check out these "suggestive" carvings which greeted us at the lobby. Looking at them now reminds me of Klimt's famous painting. But at the time, we shamelessly thought that the piece of art represent us, somewhat, at this stage of marriage.
The Indonesian-inspired décor was soothing, especially with those aromatic scents of lavender, orange and ginger oils swirling around the space. I’d always love that smell— it reminded me of sunny Bali—something of which none of us could replicate well at home, even with aromatherapy sticks, with our cats and heat.
The menu, on the other hand, had us spoilt for choice. Their packages ranged from traditional massages to scrubs to wraps to aromatherapy to facials, you just name them. Their specialty is the bamboo massage, which we were tempted to try. We were afraid, though, that all that bamboo stalks might give us unnecessary soreness. So N settled for the classic Balinese while I chose the herbal ball massage to unravel the kinks.
Later two friendly massage therapists guided us to our private room. They held special rooms designed for couples (read: married, yet again) wishing to indulge in massages together. We wrapped ourselves in robes as we wait for the therapists to set up the sheets, towels and essential oils. N acted as if he was a Japanese villager in a kimono; funnily, he reminded me of the "midget in the bathrobe" joke made by Chris Tucker in this film scene.
The massages were unbelievably good. We remember being in a liminal state between awake and slumber. We didn’t mean to sleep but with all that kneading, we drifted in and out of dreaminess. Coupled with the sounds of rainforest in the background, we just imagined ourselves packing a suitcase and leaving the city for the woods for good. Great ambience, very tranquil.
While I had my Indian head massage, N dipped into the jacuzzi to loosen the knots in his lower spine. He felt light as helium once he got out of the hot tub. Meanwhile, the therapist advised me not to shower immediately. My skin needed to soak up all that oily goodness for healing. Our session ended with warm cups of ginger tea. The tea tasted crisp and spicy. In short: tasty detox. Once freshened up, we headed home with bright eyes near midnight and rolled into bed, all relaxed.
We have to say that this had been the most rejuvenating date we ever had together. If you happen to be a busy bee in need of some pampering or have nowhere else to go on a date night, a trip to the spa is a fantastic answer. Nothing works better than a bit of restoration, albeit being slightly on the luxurious side (it’s wise to make the trip after payday!). Or best yet, give yourself a chance to indulge. Drop everything and surrender your body to the comforts of some healing hands. Perhaps tonight, anyone?
