Lost in translation

July 14, 2020

I left that Thai massage room with a slight conviction that I had made a mistake. I spent almost the entire one-hour session regretting the terrible pain I was sure I would feel once it was over.

I have always been a huge fan of massages. There were times in Brazil when I would book two appointments per week. Every time that I had a chance, including travels abroad, the Hotel’s Spa would be my best friend.

As Corona prevented the wellness business to operate for a few months, I was very much looking forward to their come back. Once that happened, I decided to spoil myself and booked a treatment at a Thai beauty salon just around the corner of my house.

The masseuse barely spoke English or Dutch which made it worse as I can only say “Hi” and “Thank you” in Thai. So the manager was in charge to receive the clients’ complaints and pass them on to the staff. Not a great idea, I immediately thought.

And I was right. The miscommunication meant that my masseuse spent half of the session insisting on crushing my upper back despite my effort to explain this part was just fine. At the end of the torture, at least, she stretched me gently and slowly I felt the agony go away.


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