Another Vacation Massage

Last year we took our first cruise and for one of our shore excursions we decided to rent a scooter for the day so we might take in all the tropical splendor.  After tipping our rental clerk in "American US dollars" (American Express checks were not welcome and of course this was mostly what I had to spend) we were advised of a secluded beach that offered massages by the surf.   The temperature was nearly 100 degrees Fahrenheit and I didn't feel safe enough to drive my own scooter so I rode behind Hubby, thus adding a little more heat to our already balmy trip.  We donned our dorky helmets and were on our way.

The ride out was a wee bit scary for me as there was nothing to see but very tall, bushy foliage and poorly paved roadways.  I was just sure that Mexican Banditos were lurking behind the greenery just waiting to rob the stupid Yankee tourists.  When I expressed my concerns to my husband he rolled his eyes and kept on truckin' at the sensational speed of 15 mph.  After about 30 minutes we arrived at our destination......a very poorly constructed shack that would make the huts on Gilligan's Island  look like decadent grandeur.  The lower level of this shack was a bar and the upper level was reserved for massages.  If you have seen a commercial for Corona beer, this was one of the locations that was featured in their advertisements, so we felt it would have been down right poor manners if we didn't have a Corona or two while we were there.  You know 'when in Rome' and all.....

Our masseur and his wife brought over a catalog to show us their massage services and suggested prices.  After a wee bit of haggling we agreed to 2 90-minute massages for $160 American US dollars.  When we got to the massage room there was a rope tied to two posts and a gauzy cloth draped over the rope to separate the massage "treatment rooms".  Manuel asked me what type of massage I wanted and after a not so English friendly conversation he left the room to let me get on the massage table.  Next door Hubby had a similar conversation with Manuel's wife before he got on his massage table.

Our drapes were beach towels which we strategically placed over our posteriors.  When Manuel approached me he politely removed my towel, folded it into a triangle and shoved it between my legs, thus giving me the appearance of the plumber butt crack.  Now modesty is not really an issue for me since I basically had to get undressed in front of 15 other people almost daily when I was in massage school.  So the towel was not really an issue.  But the third swipe down my back when Manuel spread my butt cheeks was a bit awkward, but still not too alarming since my husband was a mere 6 feet away.  I figured if things got out of hand a big naked man would come dashing thru the curtain to my rescue and in truth I was not getting the freaky perverted vibe from Manuel, so I concentrated on the surf and the massage continued.

Halfway through my massage Manny (I figured we were close enough now to use nicknames) indicated that he wanted me to turn over.  I assumed that he would use the beach towel to shield my lady bits when I was turning over.  Not!  Manny yanked that towel off as if he was a bullfighter and the towel was his cape!   OLE!  There was not one inch of me that was covered.  Thankfully he re-draped the towel over me quickly and went about his work.  Back home there are rules about massaging breast tissue.....not sure about Mexico but Manny worked my girls over.  Again, I must say that I did not get the freak vibe and he only touched around the breast edges so I allowed the work.  The rest of my massage was uneventful other than the one sweep that his pinkie finger ventured in the crease of my thigh and my naughty bits.

While I lay there tyring to enjoy this very different massage, I began to wonder how someone more modest than me--say like my mother--would have reacted to this kind of massage.  I am fairly sure that my mom would have been mortified and scarred for life.  How many other women would have been offended by the draping and breast massage?  Then I wondered how many women would not have even blinked while getting this type of massage.  Was I somewhere in the middle?  Kind of okay with most of the massage and kind of uneasy by some of the techniques that are normally taboo back home.  In all fairness I had to admit that even though it was outside my box, it really was a good massage.  No harm. No foul?  When in Rome?  What happens in Cozumel, stays in Cozumel? 

After we paid for our massages we were talking to Mrs. Manuel and asked her how long it took to become a massage therapist in Mexico.  Her answer was "Oh a reeeeeeally looooong time.  Every day.  Two weeks."   Maybe if their training lasted a bit longer they could include proper draping techniques.....