Do you want some special service, Mister?
JAKARTA (JP): John walked into a gloomy four-square-meter room. Four blue candles were lit in the corner. The lingering aroma of a blend of eucalyptus and lavender oil was in the air. A spotless white towel covered a kinky looking bed in the middle of the room. The bed looked like a guillotine table without the blade. There was a hole at the end of the bed, and he guessed he was supposed to stick his head in this hole. John was thinking of the dual effect of that; he would probably end up with a face full of pothole pores while choking on the steam from an aroma- therapeutic burner positioned underneath.
"Please lay on the bed, I will start with your toes," said a woman in her mid 20s standing beside the bed.
It was John's second day in Jakarta. Suffering jet lag and aching from being cramped like a sardine in an economy class seat for 18 hours, he wanted to have a relaxing massage. I suggested he should go to the spa in a nearby hotel. I heard they had a good massage facility.
The manipulation began. After some time, the masseuse broke the calming silence. "Do you want some special service, Sir?"
"Just the regular, please," said John, wondering what on earth the "special service" would entail. Minutes later he screamed in agony as the woman pulled and cracked all of his toes at once. She suddenly seemed to be in a hurry. A few notches here and there, then she said, "That will be all, Sir." The special service must mean a big deal to her, thought John.
Released from the torture table, John left the room suffering a lot more aches than before. Luckily he had managed to stop her from spinning and cracking his neck just in time.
John looked puzzled when later I explained to him what she had meant by "special service".
"Are you saying that she will give variations of sexual services depending on the price I agree upon? But I was in a spa in a star-rated international chain hotel! And the managers just turn a blind eye to all of this?"
"Well, yes, what do you expect? The managers probably even get their cut."
In another five-star hotel, the health club's cafe, which I used to visit, is located right opposite the massage rooms. I've seen numerous funny and awkward scenes there. One day I saw a masseuse walk out from one of the massage rooms, not realizing part of her pink bra was poking out from the pocket of her pants. Shortly after, a guy tried to sneak out from the same room without being noticed. Wow, he looked shocked to see me siting there. When he quickly walked away and headed toward the changing room, I could see the word "Busted!" written all over his back.
Doesn't this sound like a story from a sleazy place somewhere in North Jakarta? In fact, I was sitting in a place frequented by a lot of snobbish guests with penguin-uniformed staff running around them.
Why has alternative body therapy wrongly received this connotation? If you drive through Central Jakarta, just behind the presidential palace, in fact, you'll probably grasp why. You will see rows of entertainment spots promoting "massage treatment" facilities in bright pink neon. Some of them are so obvious, bearing suggestive names. Or flip through the classified ads in a local newspaper. It's very easy to spot ads that allegedly offer sexual services under the "health" section.
-- Aida Greenbury