Painful choice

Some people have the enviable ability to choose the right thing. Whether it be from a menu or whatever, I envy them. When you’re having dinner with them, you know you should just order the same things… but you don’t and when the food comes you sit there staring covetously at their plates saying to yourself, “I wish I had ordered that” and “I hope they offer me some”. Yip, some people have the enviable ability to choose the right thing. I’m not one of them.

The same holds true for massages. I had a massage in China back in October on the evening of a flight home. The girl pummelled the crap out of me as she swung from a rope attached to the ceiling. On the Sunday my back flared up and I couldn’t walk or go to work for 2 weeks…I have never felt pain like it. Now some will tell you that it was the limbo competition during our party on the Saturday night (which I won incidentally), but I maintain that it was the massage.

The Saranova Mara Game Camp has a wellness centre, the “Tuliol Wellness Centre” and feeling in the need for some wellness, I decided to book myself a massage. Studying the list of therapy services, I narrowed it down to 2 choices:
i. Coconut Cinnamon Scrub Skin Polish (45 mins): Made from finely grated coconut, this scrub excels toxins and dead skin from the body leaving it soft and renewed.
ii. Kahawa Scrub (45 mins): Made from finely ground Kenyan coffee, this richly aromatic scrub will sooth your skin and elevate your mood.

Hmm? Decisions decisions! I should have phoned a friend, but seeing as we are in Kenya and Kenya is famous for coffee, I plumped for option 1 and reserved for 18h30 that night (night 2).

At 18h25 I strolled up and announced myself. I was instructed to shower and return wrapped in towel. I clambered on to the bed and lay down ready to turn off my mind, relax and float down stream. What I got instead was 45 mins of rendition. The first few strokes were agreeable…it soothed certain itches…but it rapidly descended into agony; it was like being rolled in broken glass.

To get better idea of what it was like, try this at home. Go to your kitchen and dig out your grater. Now take that fine side that you never know quite what to use on, apply it to your skin and rub it all over you for ¾ of an hour. What do you mean you don’t want to?

For the duration I gritted my teeth. The masseuse kept asking me if I was relaxed and true to my Britishness I nodded and mmm’d, all the while thinking of the Guantanamo terror suspects and whether their interrogators ask them the same thing as they waterboard them for the n’th time.

My punishment over, I gingerly climbed down and ever so gently put my clothes back on. Tipping the lady and telling her that is was delightful (I’m so British), I walked home to apply Savalon liberally.

15 mins later, having suffered the further ignominy of getting lost on the way back to my tent (all them paths looked the same by night), I surveyed the damage in the mirror. I was one big graze.

Against stupidity the gods themselves contend in vain.