Too up close and personal on the massage table

I woke up the other day with a sore neck and back, most probably acquired from too many late nights sitting in front of the computer for my low-paying, dead end job.

Luckily, Jakarta is now awash with legitimate massage parlors where friendly, matronly masseuses supply a vigorous rubdown and nothing else. So I was really looking forward to having the knots on my back kneaded to a state of bliss at one of my favorite massage place.

I sprinted to the branch in Menteng, Central Jakarta, with a friend after work. The place was almost deserted since it was already 8 p.m. I chose a relaxing aromatherapy oil, disrobed and lay down on the warm, clean white sheet as the masseuse quickly went about doing her job on my legs.

I was about to drift into slumberland when I first heard it.

B-U-R-R-R-P.

Now, I consider myself a massage veteran and I find that for some odd reason it is considered normal for Indonesian masseuses to burp during a massage (maybe all those kneading and rubbing just pushes excess gas through the mouth?). So I let it go.

In mere seconds, my masseuse really let it rip with a manly burp that a truck driver would surely be proud of!

"You have gas, Miss. You're red all over," she said. I was perplexed. Me?

Before I could respond, she burped again. And again. And again. It was clear that I had to forfeit my plan to sleep peacefully until my one hour was up. Instead, I occupied my time with counting how many burps my masseuse could muster in the course of the massage.

There were 103, to be exact, alternating between shy, little girl burps and big, mean, badass one. It was truly a fiesta-del- burpo!

To add insult to injury, my friend from the next bed thought I was doing all the burping (the bastard!). Although I occasionally, unabashedly indulge myself in public burping, I never, ever have a burp-a-thon and I sure did not expect one in such a supposedly calm and serene haven.

In every massage room, there is a notice for patrons to:

1. limit talking to fellow patrons and masseuse

2. switch off mobile phones.

Well, they should add "no burping at any time, no matter what" to the notice.

I don't know which one is worse: a burping masseuse or an overly observant masseuse. A friend once received this "compliment" during her massage: "You're not married, are you, Miss? Although you're overweight, your body is firm. Once someone gives birth, their body becomes flabby."

A friend of another friend had the same bad fortune. The masseuse kept praising the poor girl's body, and even watched her get dressed when her time was up as she commented, "Miss must work out all the time. You've got a great body."

Sadly, those were not sequences from a skin flick.

At a hotel spa in Bali, the young masseuse must have felt a personal connection with me, because she spent the last hour confiding her family woes (drunken, abusive, good for nothing father) and difficult love life (she was Hindu with a Muslim boyfriend). Apparently a few grunts was translated as: "Yes, I am your new confidante. Keep on talking."

Feigning deep sleep was obviously not working since she did not even notice I stopped listening after the second boyfriend had asked her to elope. I did not have the heart to tell her I just wanted a good rubdown and not some sob story, so I soldiered on.

Clearly she enjoyed my company, because she extended the massage to another 30 minutes. She even gave me this very un-pC tidbit before I left the room: "Never marry a Balinese man. They're lazy and abusive."

I departed with a good back, none of the sleep I was hoping for, plus new advice on men I hopefully do not have to put to use.

-- Krabbe K. Piting