Reduce, Reuse, Recycle (part 3)

Hello everybody, and welcome to part 3 of my blog going green.

Yes, I said green.

I'm sure I'm saving some carbon footprint points by not typing a new post, right? Recycling, the blogger way??

A stretch, huh??

OK, fine. Welcome to part 3 of me traveling across country, and not being near a laptop.

Is that better?

(I still like the green theme better!) :-)

If you haven't read the first and second installment, you really should. Really, really should.

But, as I've mentioned before, I'm unable to link to a post that is scheduled to appear in the future. So....to read part 1 and 2, you'll have to scroll down on my blog page and find them.

Sorry about the inconvenience.

So, without further adu, adoo, adeau, adieux (?????), I give you.....

Korean Bath House - part 3 (the rest of the story)

As a little recap....so far we'd been baked, boiled, tenderized, peeled and basted. And were now being ushered into yet another room of torture.

This last room had a calming feel to it. Walking in made me think that maybe, the torture was complete...and we were finally going to get to do some relaxing.

WRONG!!!

I mean, it started out fine enough. They lure you in...and lay you down on a very comfortable massage table. They put some cucumber gunk all over you face, but a hot cloth over your eyes. There is calming music playing in the background. They massage your arms and your shoulders. Things are looking good.

Then I hear a noise, down by my feet. It's the sound of a leather satchel with metal instruments being unrolled. I know, I know...I've watched too many espionage, torture the information out of the informant, movies. But that's exactly what it sounded like.

And that's exactly what it was!!!!!!!

The woman at the end of my table, took one of my feet in her hands.

I'd heard of reflexology. I'd heard that it was a wonderful thing. But for someone like me, things weren't looking good. I have the most ticklish feet ever.

EVER!!!

Not that it would have mattered, being ticklish wasn't a problem in this situation. Being adverse to pain, on the other hand, was. This woman started jamming metal instruments into the bottom of my foot. She'd drag and scrape the things along the sides. Digging in. Poking, prodding.

How the objects didn't break the skin and enter INTO my foot, I'll never know.

Every so often, there would be a break in the action, and she'd come back with a different tool. Holy cow. If I had any national secrets, I would have given them all up and then some, right then! I'd make stuff up, I'd sell my sister into slavery...what ever it takes for them to stop torturing my foot!!!!

And that's when it hit me. Oh My Gawd...they've only done one foot! I have to go through all of this again. There's no way I'll make it out of here alive. My feet are thudding and pounding and burning so badly, I don't think I could have stood up if I wanted to.

This went on for a good 30 minutes, before switching to my other foot. I was sweating and fighting back tears. I'm not a wuss when it comes to pain. I've had reconstructive shoulder surgery...there's nothing that hurts more. And I did it with relatively little complaining (mostly I complained about being bored, and not being able to put my own bra on)...but this was horrible!!!!

Finally, the hell was over. I could hear the tools being put away. They started massaging my legs. My calf muscles (heck, every muscle in my body) had tensed up pretty hard that last hour...so the pampering was a welcome activity.

Until the brush came out. I started getting pedicures a number of years ago, when a pregnant friend of mine decided she had to go. She could no longer reach her feet. We still go together every once and a while. When you get a pedicure, they take a scrub brush along the bottom of your feet.

Yeah, not my feet. Remember the ticklish thing? It's an involuntary action. I about took the head off of one unsuspecting pedicurist. When the brush comes out, I explain I'm ticklish, and we should probably skip that step.

Unfortunately, as was proved with the exfoliation lady smacking me in the forehead in the previous room, the communication barrier had left quite a little to be desired all evening. And, try as I might, I couldn't get her to put the d*mn brush away! I tried laughing and pulling my foot back, all the ladies in the room laughed...and my woman grabbed my foot in a death lock. I tried curling my toes and making it difficult for her. No go....she wouldn't stop. The woman was a pit bull!!!!

When she was completely done with my feet, she grabbed my leg, and bent it at a 90 degree angle, so my foot was sitting on the table. She took a metal rod and ran it up along the inside of my calf of my right leg.

Well....that was interesting. I wonder why she did t.................................OH HOLY HELL!!!!!!!

About ten seconds after running that rod along my calf, the pain hit. I've never felt anything like it in my life!!! It felt as though someone was holding a hot poker on the side of my leg...right where she had taken the rod. It burned so bad. What did she just do to me???? I couldn't move my leg, it was paralyzed.....except for the burning sensation that wasn't easing up.

This was when I realized there were more of us in the room. If anything, the ladies had gotten me to forget anyone else was there. I started listening. You could hear small whimpers and such throughout the room. One chorus member let out a small shriek.

I heard someone closer to me sit up suddenly. NOPE! That was me sitting up. She'd just run that metal rod up the other calf, and I guess my body went into fight or flight mode. Since I wasn't running out the door, I can only assume I was readying my self for battle. :-)

The hot cloth fell off my eyes, and I was finally able to look around the room. There were people with tears, there were people looking around with huge eyes, and there was one person asleep. How can you possibly sleep with all of this going on?

I was led back to the locker room where I could change. Everyone rode back to the hotel in silence. No one talking to each other. Shell shocked.

I'm all for experiencing other cultures. There were MANY things we did during those 10 days that I enjoyed beyond belief. I went outside my comfort zone and ate some pretty crazy things. I'm glad I went to the bath house. Would I ever do it again? No. I'll stick with American spas. I hear it's more of a pampering experience. :-)

Well...that's that. I'll be back at work on Monday...have a great weekend!!!! :-)

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle (part 2)

Welcome to part 2 of my recycling program. If you missed part 1, scroll down on my blog (I haven't figured out how to link to something that is scheduled to post in the future. If anyone has any tips, let me know.) :-)

But, let me assure you, you WILL want to read part 1 before reading part 2. :-)

The Korean Bath House (part 2)

So, where was I????

Oh yes. I remember now.

We had just been placed back into the 'oven' after our botched escape attempt.

Our captors were nice enough to bring us glasses of water (Of which we couldn't drink. I had a 13 hour plane ride home in my future, and DID NOT want to spend it in the airplane restroom suffering from digestive distress.)

Now that I think back, I know they were trying to stagger our leaving "the oven" for a reason....but at the time, it was terrifying.

By the time I was finally able to leave, there were only 3 of us left. We had decided there was no way they were going to separate the three of us. We'd fight to the death if need be.

United we stand, divided we....well, we didn't know...but, unfortunately, we were about to find out.

Once in the locker room, we were ordered to undress immediately (against our better judgement). I was friends with most of these ladies. I saw them at rehearsals a minimum of once a week. So, my eyes were carefully pointed towards the ceiling, the back wall, and anywhere else that would keep their naked bodies out of my line of sight. It wasn't something I wanted to have come to mind every time I saw them.

Once we were properly in a state of undress, they led us through that mystery door.

I didn't want to be the first one through. Hell, I didn't want to be the last through either. I just wanted to put my Levi's back on and run!!!!

The room we entered was.....hmmmm....how do I describe it? It was wet, foggy, steamy, white porcelain tiles, floor to ceiling, and...well, it was....ummm.......noisy. But I'll get to that in a minute.

The first place we were told to go, was a wall, with shower heads. Made sense, we had sweat like nobodies business in the oven. I suppose we were pretty stinky by then?

My lady took me to the wall....looked at me with this really mean, snarly face....and punched the shower button on the wall. And when I say punched, I mean it. Then she looked at me, nodded her head and walked away.

Well OK then.

So, I punched the button, mimicking her movements with every ounce of sarcasm I had, and took a shower. When I was done, she came over and pointed me in the direction of the hot tub. I will call this stage two, "pot of boiling water".

It was a small hot tub, and there were too many of us in it for my liking. The water was hotter than any hot tub I'd ever been in....and I found myself wishing I was still in the oven. At least I could wear those funny looking pajama things there!!!!

One by one, we were removed from the "pot of water." Unfortunately, I was sitting in the hot tub with my back to the rest of the room. Actually, I shouldn't say unfortunately. If I had been seated where I could watch what was going on behind me, I don't think I'd be of sound mind to talk about it today.

How can I describe the sounds I was hearing?

OK...I got it!! Buy a chicken from the grocery store. Take it out of the package, and then slam it down on the counter top. Then, take you hands and start slapping at it. (spanking it, for lack of a better word) That slapping sound you are hearing???? Imagine there were 5 people with their own chickens, beating the crap out of them in your kitchen with you. That's what it sounded like was going on behind me.

And, it wasn't really far from the truth.

Yep, there were 5 padded massage tables in this room behind me. Each table had a small Korean woman wearing black bras and panties (very utilitarian looking, nothing Victoria Secret about it, so get your minds out of the gutters!!!).

These women were doing the "massages." But, not American style massages. There was nothing relaxing about it. Trust me!!!

These women scoured, yes...I said scoured....us from head to toe. They had these mitts they wore....made of a very rough material. And they used them to exfoliate every inch of our bodies.

Every. Single. Inch

(As a joke, Elaine got each of us one of these mitts as gifts, and gave them to us on the plane ride home. I keep mine in the shower, and use it to exfoliate my elbows and such if they need it.)

At one point, the lady told me to sit up. So...I started to sit up...and she smacked me on the forehead with the palm of her hand. Smacked me, for real. With the palm of her hand...ssssmack.

She again told me to sit up. So I started to sit up...and she smacked me on the forehead again.

Oh no she didn't!

I found myself wondering what the punishment would be, for beating up a Korean bath house lady??

She yelled at me to sit up again. I sat up, but was ready this time. I had my hands up and was ready to smack her back, when another little lady in black under garments shouted something. She came over, yelled at my lady a little...and then asked me to scoot up. It seems they wanted my head to hang off the table, so they could massage my neck or scalp or something.

I don't think my lady trusted me after that. She looked at me like she was afraid I was going to attack her at any minute. Actually made me feel a little better....I admit it. I can't say the exfoliation felt even close to good. It hurt like a son of a b*tch, and I think I was missing the top 70 or so layers of skin. Everywhere!!!

EVERYWHERE!!!

E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E.

Now, also take into account, that as this was going on...they were using an oil. To soften the skin, when the exfoliation was done.

And numerous time, they asked that we flip from side to side.....while oiled....on a wet table.

And there were no seat belts. :-)

I'd been stuck in an oven and baked....I'd been boiled....and now I'd been...hmmm...what's the cooking equivalent of what that little lady in black underpants had done? I'd been tenderized, peeled, and basted.

And don't forget....all of the things in this room had been done naked.

Butt. Friggin'. Naked.

And as each person finished, we were taken into the main locker room again...and handed another set of those comfy pink pajama things.

All I could think to myself was "Oh gawd, they still haven't given me my clothes yet. Now what???"

(to be continued, one more time)

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle (part 1)

Mot and I, and the rest of the family, are heading to NM as you read this. It's not a leisure trip, I guess you could call it more business than anything. Business that no one wants to attend.

My grandfather, Milo, passed away last Thursday. I didn't post about it, and still haven't yet...because I'm trying to find just the right things to say. This is not a post to be taken lightly.

But....while I'm gone, driving 12 hours (each way) to the OVEN they call eastern New Mexico...I thought I'd do a little post recycling.

Some of you were around to read these posts when I first drafted them...but some of you weren't.

I give to you....Korean bath house (in 3 parts).

The Korean Bath House

A few years ago, the chorus I sang in was asked to sing in Korea, in a competition held during the APEC Summit. President Bush was going to attend the meetings, and the organizers were hoping to get an American chorus to participate in honor of him attending.

Well, anyway....long story short, we were selected. The trip lasted 10 days, and is a million posts by itself. But, there was one story, in particular, I'd love to share.

Elaine (the member of our chorus that was organizing the trip), used to be the USO liaison in Korea. She lived there for a number of years before moving back to the states. She suggested we spend one night experiencing a local Korean bath house.

After spending a week with 20 women (and assorted husbands) touring around Korea, singing on military bases, teaching music classes, and competing in the choral competition.....let me say, the idea of massages and such sounded wonderful!!! There were quite a few of us who signed up.

The bus that had been driving us around was only available during the day, so we had to be taken to the bath house in small groups...via mini vans. We were one of the first vans to leave the hotel. None of us spoke a lick of Korean, except for the occasional hello and thank you (and "no thank you, I don't want to buy").

The small Korean lady who was driving our vehicle drove us around and through the city. We had no idea where we were. After driving through some of the creepiest looking alleyways, she finally stopped the van and got out. We all sat there for a minute, then decided she must have wanted us to follow her.

She led us through a door in the building she was standing behind, and into a small lobby (lobby = small 5 x 5 foot area, with nothing in it, but an elevator door). She pushed the elevator button, and ushered us in. Just as the door was closing, she rushed out of the elevator, into the lobby. As the door was closing it's final 2 or 3 inches, she waved...and ran away.

Allllllllrighty then.

All of us stood in the elevator, not wanting to say what we were thinking. Finally someone spoke....... "Where we just sold into some sort of prostitution ring?" I rummaged through my pockets, and found I had nothing that could be used as a weapon if needed.

The elevator 'dinged' and we all took a deep breath. The doors opened to a small reception desk, with two ladies. They were looking at us with huge, uncertain eyes. We stepped up to the counter, and tried to tell them why we were there. They spoke zero English, and we spoke zero Korean. Eventually both parties were speaking louder than they needed to.

Somehow, speaking louder makes it easier to understand a language you don't know?????

Who knows how long this would have continued if Elaine hadn't finally stepped off that same elevator with the next van load of girls. She explained everything to the flustered women behind the counter.

The whole group was led into a small locker room, and were each handed a set of clothing. Shorts and a shirt....pajama style. We were to wear them, and nothing else....and change right there. The door to the room was still open to the lobby, and we all just stood there. Finally, one of ladies sighed and closed to the door for us. Silly shy American girls!!

(if only we knew how un-shy we were going to be by the end of the night)

After we were changed, we were taken into the first of many rooms. This was stage one. I call it "The Oven."

Technically, it was a dry sauna. A very, very, very hot sauna. There were no chairs and no benches...so everyone had to sit on the floor. Each of us had our own wooden pillow to place our heads on while we laid on the floor.

After 45 minutes of baking time, two women came into the room. They literally walked from person to person, pinching everyone's knees.

Some people must have been more "done" than others....because they asked some of our group to leave with them.

15 minutes later, we decided it was our time to leave as well. We walked through the door and found the main dressing room. As we walked into the room, a group of three local women walked in from the lobby. They proceeded to strip naked right in front of us, then walk over to these.....well.........stalls.

Within each stall was an outhouse looking seat. Basically a bench with a toilet seat on it. They all sat down on the toilet seats (naked) and zipped themselves in. Yes, I said zipped. There was a "cover" that went around the whole stall, and zipped up to their neck. All you could see where their heads. Under the bench seats, were.....well......containers of steaming fluids. Once they were zipped into the stalls.....whatever was under the benches, steamed up through the toilet seat holes onto (into?) them.

I've seen some strange things in my life....but that took the cake. These ladies were giggling like school girls. And I never did figure out what treatment they were receiving. I thought it better to not ask. I probably didn't want to know.

Just as they got themselves zipped in, our bath house ladies walked in from another door. They were less than happy we'd taken ourselves out of the 'oven' without their permission, and shoo'd us back in, with obvious frustration.

As we returned to the oven, I couldn't help but wonder what was behind the door those bath house ladies had just come through. The noises coming from the room were less than reassuring.

I looked around at those of us still left in the oven, and wondered what happened to the ones that had been taken out. Were they in the room behind that door? What had I gotten myself into??

(to be continued)