04/06/2008 foot reflexology massage

Last night I went for a foot reflexology massage.

This is for Rob, my colleague who was interesting in finding an ancient Chinese massage while visiting Beijing on www2008 conference.

And poor Danni is not going to read this one any time soon, so I could liberally confess to you that I had broken my promise again. You see, I got this pledge to her that 'I won't taste any food that she wasn’t allowed. I won't do anything that she could not.'

Last time I bought a pack of Sichuan Spicy Beef snack, Danni's favourite, yet it is strictly off limit as Danni's condition concerned. I kept it to myself. I did tell her, although it stopped at 'I saw this spicy beef in a supermarket. They also have less spicy ones and mind ones.'

Anyway, I went up this foot massage parlour on a busy street. A receptionist showed me to a room. In it, a narrow massage bed, an arm chair and some foot stool. Very basic but clean. He switched on the air conditioning, and asked, 'do you have any preferred therapist, sir?'
'No.' said I while seating down.
'Would you prefer a male therapist or female?'
'I don't mind as long as his or her skill is good'.
'I would book you a man therapist then.'
A short pause, 'no, please get me a lady'. While I had no objection against same gender, it was creepy just the thought of another gentleman's fingers would run over my feet.

Door shut, the receptionist left. Only me there, wondering what's going to happen next. And calculating what it really meant when Rob's massage therapist, potentially a good looking girl, raised the head and tentatively answered 'we would go to your room?'

A knocked at the door. A decent dressed lady came in with a bucket of dark brown steaming water, potentially some herbs helping to relax.

While my feet were testing water, nervously waiting for being cooked, she started rubbing over my shoulders, forceful but not hurting.

'There is a lot of rain here, isn't it?' she went straight into the chat, without introducing herself. Which isn't uncommon. In the Chinese value of being humble, 'me' isn't important.

'yes, so I read there are severe flooding around.'

‘Funny though my hometown suffers draught at the moment. It is the harvest time for wheat.' Ahfen said.

Before she continued to my neck, I promptly apologised for the sticky, oily neck under her fingers.

'It is alright. Very hot and humid today, everyone sweats like that.'

Moment later, she applied massage cream to my left foot, and started rubbing from the plam.

And the conversation went on.

She was from Henan, a dry, over population province in the central China.

At home, it harvested twice a year, wheat followed by sweet corn sometimes grow peanuts and beans.

Each one in the village has right to some farm land. Better ones got 1 Mu (about 670 square metres) per capita, the really poor one would get as less as 60 square metres, enough for standing an ox cart.

'Wheat produce in most family isn't enough for keeping everyone fed. So we would have to buy from the market.'

Average income at her home town is about 400-500 yuan (about 30 to 37 pounds) a month. Here she could make 1000-2000 yuan (about 75 to 150 pounds) a month, works 12 hours a day.

'It is more lay back at my home town. Businesses go along with the daylight. You won't see such a busy street at this time of the day,' she pointed to the direction where the high street is.

'I could work half a year here, go back and retired for the other half, and still have an easy life.'

Ahfen’s husband and daughter were at home. Her daughter was at primary school, grade three. The voluntary education gives her 9 years free education until she completed junior high.

'Everything is paid for by the local authority, including books, note pad and uniforms.' She explained. 'She is doing okay in the class, always 90% in math and Chinese literature.' Ahfen had a smile on her face. If her dad have press her, she would do better. But I am contented her stable performance.'

'We had been to an elite boarding school, kids got spring mattress in the domes, and the laundry are washed by domestic staff.' She paused the work on my left leg, made out the shape of a spring mattress.

Spring mattress must be a luxury item to many living I guessed. The ordinary gear people sleep on is board wood pane with lays of duvet. I knew this for a fact because this was what I slept on every night. My mother suggested it help relaxing though I got sore back and neck every morning.

200 yuan a month's fee seemed like acceptable if Ahfen would make 2000 a month. Although she thought it was still expensive and no good to educate one doesn't even how to do his or her own washings.

'How long you have been here?' I asked.

'I have been out in the south for many years. In Foshan, 4 years.’

Now she moved on to the right foot.

Ahfen proudly told me they had built their house with these years' earnings and savings.

'When I married to him, his dad promised to build a new house for us. He got even stacks of bricks lined up in the backyard. But the old bugger then sold the bricks as soon as my family agreed the proposition - to raise money for our wedding.'

'My mom told me no rush to use my savings to build our new house too soon, thinking outsider may mistaken it for who paid for it. So I bought even more bricks stacked at the backyard.

'It wasn’t until two years ago we started the construction. Two stories building: 5 bedrooms, lounge, dinning. The building cost 50,000 yuan (3800 pounds). And then the decoration: ceramic tiles, flush toilet, aluminum frame windows, anti burglar security shield.' 'I cant work out how much it cost us in total, must be a lot. A modern door had cost us over 1000 yuan.'

I congratulated her for running a successful family. In contrast, to buy a similar size apartment would cost 120,000 yuan at her town at the time when the house was built. And if the house is built here, it would be sold over 3 million yuan (227k pounds), I also know this for a fact because I walked pass many estate agents everyday.

'I want to save some more this year and moved back to start a small restaurant with my husband,' said she. 'After all these years, I want to slow things down.' Ahfen seemed had this in mind for a long time: ‘We will cook some simple food, noodle. A 30 square metres size for a really small restaurant will do.’

25 yuan, about 2 pounds, this was how much it costs for an hour's foot massage plus an appreciation of how migrant worker like Ahfen works hard in a foreign city away from home to achieve her dream and changed her and her family’s living.

I said goodbye and walked out from the parlour. The reflexology worked the magic. I felt muscle relaxed and the footsteps were lighter and faster.