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By Benjamin Malcolm
I'm looking straight down into a white china basin
of water, white stones on its bottom, fragrant white and yellow
frangipani and papery violet bougainvillea flowers floating on its
surface. The cool, ambient trance music from a Cafe Del Mar compilation
seems farther and farther away as the last gasp of reflexive resistance
issues from my muscles, leaving me completely limp, utterly relaxed,
my jaw and arms hanging from the table like ducks from hooks in
a roadside noodle stand. I am aware of the open, oval, terry-clothed
cushion into which the bones of my face press. The scents of eucalyptus
and exotic blended oils pervades my world, entering my pores like
narcotics delivered not through a needle's point but via the blunt
instruments of fingers, thumbs, forearms and elbows. I can taste
it in my mouth and throat and being, the taste of pampering, of
healing. As I drift off towards unconsciousness, a panicky thought
flashes through my mind's eye. What if I drool in this beautiful
bowl of flowers?
I believe the design of a perfect massage treatment is not to rub,
twist and gouge away all my aches and pains, though that is a pleasant
by-product; rather it is to suspend the mind between levels of consciousness.
I am never quite asleep during a massage, but if it is a good one,
I'm never quite awake either. This state of sub-consciousness, which
can also be achieved through meditation, though that seems to involve
entirely too much effort, is the level at which psychic healing
takes place, where the scars of the travel writer's traumatic adventures
in luxury are soothed, smoothed and removed.
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Today, I'm receiving this welcome dose of pampering
at the Six Senses Spa of the Evason Phuket. I have selected the
"Oriental" massage from their menu, a blend of various
Asian techniques. My girlfriend chose a "Holistic" massage,
another blend of styles, including Swedish, the point of which speaks
for itself. The menu is practically as long as the one in the resort's
Thai restaurant and offers everything from massages to facials to
body scrubs to exotic mineral baths. Individual treatments, couples
treatments and full-day marathon combination treatments are available.
We are in a double massage room, which is frequently used as part
of the Japanese honeymoon package. I thought about getting our treatments
outside, beneath the white tents on islands in reflecting ponds,
set amid the tropical gardens, but my girlfriend thought it would
get too hot and besides, it was raining when we arrived this morning.
The four-hour package treatments, beginning with flower baths, then
progressing through body scrubs, body wraps and massages, take place
in three grand rooms in the back of the building. Each room is tastefully,
minimally decorated, in keeping with the Evason's overall clean,
modern design; each features one of the signature, hand-hammered
steel basin sinks, which immediately draw the eye and are conveniently
for sale in the gift shop in the main hotel building. Although whilst
one is immersed in a treatment, one can't see much besides the bowls
of water and flowers. The views from most of the rooms here and
from the waiting rooms and open-air yoga studio upstairs are spectacular;
an uninterrupted panorama of islands and the sea.
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All creams, oils and other treatment products used
at the Six Senses Spa are by Sodashi, an Australian company for
which the Evason is the sole distributor in Thailand. For beauty
therapy, Decleor, Paris, products are used. A retail shop, a juice
bar and a yoga and meditation room with cathedral ceilings are all
scheduled for addition to the facility in the near future. Currently,
staff are training in the arts of Reiki, hot stone therapy, ayurvedic
therapy and lymphatic drainage. The spa has been open less than
a year now, but is already in full swing, competing with the best
of Phuket.
Our treatments began with twenty minutes of steam room and sauna,
where eucalyptus vapors penetrated my lungs and cooled my beleaguered
sinuses, which struggle in the rainy season with the profusion of
mold on Phuket. Already approaching meditative states, we entered
the treatment room and lay face down upon our respective tables
without so much as a word. Since my skin is more like a bear's than
a baby's, I don't usually like oil in my massage, it takes too long
to wash out, but I could see this was no cheap Johnson's & Johnson's.
In fact, it is recommended that one keep Sodashi oils on one's skin
for as long as possible to enjoy its full restorative effects.
My masseuse is employing the ancient technique of inserting an elbow
into my vertebrae at just the moment true sleep's fog descends.
I hear myself croak out a guttural sound like a frog's mating song,
though I can't be certain whether or not it is audible. My girlfriend,
hardly three metres away, is silent as the grave. If I didn't know
better, I would not know that she is here at all. She is entering
into the spa massage experience for the very first time, hopefully
enjoying hers as much as I am mine. To be sure, she has plenty of
experience walking on the backs of old people, a practice of villagers
in rice farming communities to get the cricks out after hours of
hunching over in the fields either planting or cutting rice. And
she had one Thai massage on the beach. This is, of course a totally
different world.
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As the elbow moves me from near sleep to nearly
awake, I think it's funny that people pay good money for an elbow
in the back. I'm reminded of team sports, of boxing out opponents
for a rebound on the basketball court, of getting clipped from behind
on the soccer, sorry, football field. By elbows. I think that I'm
going to save these images of somewhat playful violence for use
in my article, as a contrast to the portraits of blissful relaxation.
Then I slip back into drool mode, where the pressure of well-trained
arms in the hole between my shoulders produces oscillating shapes
of reddish colour in the blackness behind my eyelids. Let the psychic
healing resume.
I'm guided by practiced hands through all the phase of my treatment,
culminating with my favourite bit, the part where she drives her
thumbs into the base of my forehead and smoothes my eyebrows away.
This technique I recognize from Thai massage, one that always leaves
me feeling invigorated and refreshed. As the treatment comes to
a close and I begin the return to full consciousness, I'm pleased
to see that my girlfriend's face mirrors the same deep quietude
that I feel. The weather has taken a lovely turn, the sun sparkling
on the surface of the sea and on the droplets of rain that cling
to the plants and flowers outside the window. I take my lover's
hand and we follow our good doctors, for such is their title in
Thailand, "Moh Nuat," to the reception room, where a steaming
pot of ginger tea awaits. In blissful silence we sip this hot, spicy,
honeyed elixir, gazing partially at each other, partially at the
beauty of our surroundings, content to prolong this state of wonder.
This, if it isn't obvious, is the beyond. I feel flattened, rolled
out by expert fingers. The flashing picture of a squid, rolled flat
by an old man with his bicycle-powered roadside cart selling his
catch at a temple fair. The beyond is the hidden realm that I forget
to access with any sort of regularity, that state of being, that
state of peace and calm that always leaves me wondering why I don't
come back again tomorrow. It is almost psychedelic, probably metaphysical,
most likely spiritual. It is something like the feeling one gets
from being in love. This beyond, this optimal massage treatment,
is quite simply not just another back rub. This is the Six Senses
Spa at the Evason Phuket.
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