Massage? It's touch and go finding a good one

MELBOURNE, Australia (JP): A hundred years ago -- or close enough -- at least once a week, my grandmother would send for her favorite masseuse from a nearby kampong. The masseuse, armed only with a bottle of natural homemade oil, would then push back the sleeves of her kebaya and begin to work on my grandmother, who would be prone on a single bed.

Conversation would flow, punctuated by grunts of satisfaction from my grandmother, until she fell asleep. Then the masseuse would keep working in silence, for another hour or so. When she had finished, my grandmother, relaxed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, would dreamily slip some notes into the masseuse's hand -- or was it down the front of her kebaya? -- and slip back to sleep.

This practice continued down the generations, faltering with me, because in my younger days in Indonesia I did not feel the need for regular massages. However, throughout the years various masseuses have been called in to give me therapeutic massages, such as the time I sprained my ankle falling off a motorbike and when I tweaked my back sneezing and slipping at the same time, on the bathroom floor.

I was thus very much aware of the difference between traditional massage and "Turkish massage", which was part and parcel of the spreading business of "Turkish bathhouses" in the 1970s, though, being a woman, I only heard of how the latter was done.

After receding into the background for sometime, it seems that traditional massage has regained currency in Indonesia, though it does not always resemble the massage -- therapeutic or otherwise -- of days gone by.

When I was in Indonesia recently, under the guise of researching the current practice of natural therapy, I had massages from numerous masseuses in different towns. In reality, of course, I felt the need for these massages, maybe because I am fast approaching the age my grandmother was when she needed regular visits from her masseuse, or, more likely, because I have become self-indulgent.

The general impression gained from this "research" was of the watered-down service provided by today's practitioners. To begin with, very few worked more than 20 minutes. And the strength of their hands and fingers was no match for the masseuses of my younger days. Consequently, very few managed to bring relaxation, let alone induce sleep.

In a West Javanese town, my friend and I were each given a massage by a youngish woman, who stopped every few minutes to say some mysterious prayers and mantras, and 15 minutes after it began, told us it was over. Predictably, we were left more greasy than relaxed.

One masseuse who had a lot of promise -- strong hands and fingers, a no-nonsense appearance, did deliver what was expected of her, a traditional massage, but in a truncated version. Twenty minutes for each of us.

We were beginning to think that maybe the aggressively commercialized era in which we lived dictated this time limitation, when we came across a surprise.

The masseuse, recommended by a trusted friend, arrived on a motorbike, clad in bike pants and a tight T-shirt, carrying a big bag containing thick mats and various bottles, jars, bowls and tubes. She was not a big woman, and apart from having a very smooth and pretty face, she came across as a sophisticated person who was accustomed to human communications.

Our masseuse was a masseuse-cum-beautician, and the treatment she gave us was so thorough we even forgot our dinner. We were each given a massage that lasted nearly 45 minutes. Then she disappeared into the bathroom with various jars and accouterments, and reappeared with a big bowl of paste smelling of fresh fruit. The paste was then spread and massaged all over our bodies for another half hour, at the end of which time she again disappeared into the bathroom. When she returned she had another big bowl in her hand, and proceeded to transfer the contents onto our bodies. We were given a full-body mask. While waiting for the mask to dry, she gave each of us a manicure and pedicure.

While we bathed, she cleaned the room. By the time she left, almost midnight, all we wanted to do was crash into bed and sail into oblivion. And luckily, there was nothing to prevent us from doing so.

It might take some time to find the kind of massage that suits you, but if you hang in there, you will certainly find it. There is such a large range to choose from. It would be wonderful, however, to know what is on offer before making the choice.

My grandmother would likely be thrown into bewilderment if she could see all the different versions of massage currently available. She might even frown with extreme disapproval. But her own version, it appears, has been pushed into the deep recesses of history, and we have to accept the fact. We have no choice but to change, to keep up with the wheel of time.

-- Dewi Anggraeni