Do you want some special service, Mister?
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