Just The Massage Today, Thanks...

Trying out new massage places in Thailand is always a hit-and-miss proposition, but sometimes one really hits a winner. Early one Friday afternoon in early 2008 I ended up at the now-defunct HIS in Silom Center, about a block from the Chong Nonsi BTS station. It was far too early in their day for it to be busy so I was nearly dragged inside by the scant few who were on duty – perhaps concerned I’d walk the additional 50 feet to Arena Massage and they’d lose the business. They needn’t have worried. It was quite hot that day, I’d already walked a fair distance from the Surasak BTS station, and I wanted to sit down.

Out of personal bias I tend to go to more massage places that cater to a gay clientele than a straight one, but that bias isn’t because I’m looking for what is euphemistically known as a Happy Ending, it’s because I’m uncomfortable with the thought of being in the situation with a female working on me. We all have our quirks, and that’s one of mine. For a true Thai massage (something I’ll address in another post) it doesn’t bother me nearly the same, so go figure.

The Manager on duty gave the usual pat “All – ALL good massage” answer when I asked “Who actually knows proper massage?” but when he asked the eight guys themselves for a show of hands, only two went up. One of those was Kiaw’s, and he was telling the truth – he could do a great massage. He took his time, worked in a methodical manner and sensed immediately when I winced a little at pressure too firm on a sore spot, giving a little nervous laugh the first time I said “jep!” (ouch), saying “sorry, sorry” as he adjusted the pressure. He also understood my request for a real massage and made no attempts to start anything otherwise. I thought I was going to have someone to add to my “permanent” list, but it was not to be.

His English was passable, and we had a nice 90-minute chat while he worked. He’d just turned 20 a few weeks before but didn’t try the “today my birthday” ploy in an attempt to inflate his tip, a trick I’ve heard often enough before; often enough that now when I hear it I say “Wow, how cool! Let me see what ‘today’ looks like in Thai on your ID!” – which they never seem to have available – and thus ends the game. Not fair, perhaps, but neither is the fib.

He shared a basic studio room about two kilometers away in the Bangkrak district with two other coworkers but “home” and his family were a good deal farther away in Surin, where he was looking forward to being for Songkran in April, two months away. “When will you come back?” I asked. “Not,” he replied, smiling. I gave him a puzzled look and he puffed out his chest and said “School,” with a certain amount of pride. He’s been working for a long time to save money for a five-year training program, something that sounded a little like pre-med but may well have just been medical assisting of some sort. He said there will be an additional three years of training past that.

He was pleased, because he’d almost made it to his financial goal and figured if business continued well he’d reach it in another month or so, making everything above that gravy until April. It wasn’t a sure thing, though; business had been spotty, even through this current “high season”, and although he worked six days a week he could never know if he’d have one customer choose him in a week, or four. I was the first in three days, he allowed, somewhat glumly.

He was slim even by Thai standards and about as dark-skinned as they come, making his broad smile seem even brighter than most. When I asked if he liked girls or boys he dipped his head shyly and said “Girl, but never have.” He said he didn’t have a girlfriend either here or in Surin, which didn’t seem to bother him. He heaved a big sigh and said school was going to keep him more than busy once he got started. I didn’t press further but sensed he was probably as pure of body as he seemed of heart.

After we’d finished but were still in the room I tipped him and asked him if he minded if I took his picture. He sat down for a moment, happy to pose for a couple of snapshots. I got it across that I’d be back to give him a copy before I flew home, and he smiled again as the thought registered with him. “For my Mother,” he smiled.

While paying my tab at the reception desk he stood next to me, rather than at the front door the way many do, gently reminding customers about their gratuity. I figured he was standing next to me because he’d already been tipped, but then I saw him writing on a piece of paper. He walked outside with me, and as he took my outstretched hand to shake it, he handed me the piece of paper. On it, in Thai, was what looked like a mailing address and phone number. “Come Surin see me,” he said. “Kup kun krub,” (thank you) I said.

That evening, on my way to meet friends for dinner I dropped the image off at a photo shop to have two 4x6 copies of his picture printed. On my way back to my room I picked them up, purchasing a presentable wooden frame for one of them.

Monday afternoon I returned to HIS with a small bag in hand, containing Kiaw’s photos. When I entered the shop the manager didn’t recognize me and asked if I was there for a massage. I pulled the framed picture of Kiaw out of the bag and held it up so he could see it. He laughed, and then the rest of the gathering hopefuls saw it, too, as I knew they would. A great uproar of laughter and shouting erupted from the group as they called Kiaw out from wherever he was, dragging him by the hand over to collect his pictures. He smiled and took the photos with a “wai,” pressing the framed one to his chest, pleased. “For your Mother,” I said, tapping the back of the frame with my finger – and he smiled again.

I waved and turned to leave, and again he followed me outside. This time instead of a handshake he reached out and gave me a hug and said “thank you”. I wished him luck with his schooling and waved goodbye as I walked down the stairs to street level. “Come Surin see me,” he called down to me, pantomiming the writing he’d done on Friday. “I will try,” I said “I will try.” And I intend to.