Masajes

One of the pitfalls of laying around on a sunbed all day on the Costa Del Sol (Spain) is the constant interruption from various people who plod the beach offering holidaymakers various goods and services.

It has the potential to be irritating, and I have in the past felt irritated by the interruptions, which take no account of whether you are awake or asleep, or holding a conversation, or reading or painting or just being quiet in your own thoughts.

This year I was resolved to be polite on every single occasion, uttering a polite “no thank you” with a smile.

I was interested to observe some women of Chinese origins selling personal massages for a few euro’s, calling out gently as a question “masajes?”

I considered it in my mind, even though my mouth said “no thank you” with a smile.

During the holiday, I occasionally had to ask my wife to apply sun cream to those parts of my anatomy on which the sun rarely shines, namely the back of my legs and back.

As her hand traversed quickly and smoothly up the inside of my legs to the areas where I had no need for sun cream, I screamed and riddled at the strange and intimate sensation of her hands in unfamiliar places!

The fear, I had was that I would have a similar, wriggling, giggling, tense experience in the hands of a stranger if I was to agree to masajes, and that seemed an even worse potential experience than I could face.

I can’t help wondering though, now I have arrived home, what it would have taken for me to trust myself to the hands of a stranger, to submit to her skills and her touch, because those whom I saw having masajes, seemed calm, relaxed and comfortable throughout with absolutely no indication of the drama which I had been unable to overcome.

My next blog will be:  Arriving and Departing

William Defoe

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