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  Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
Saturday, November 15, 2008

Tonight, our first night on our first full day in HCMC, we ventured out of the hotel to find dinner on our own. And by "ventured" I mean, the hotel got us a cab and we told the driver where we wanted to go - the restaurant Tien, our guide for the day had recommended. When we arrived we managed to get a table, albeit in the middle of a walk way that had random gusts of wind and the smell of grilling that covered every inch of us and our clothes. A dinner that had Katherine doing her best not to fall asleep, me hopped up on caffeine but so tired from not really sleeping the past few days that my friend caffeine barely made a dent, and the rest all in a fog of jet lag and fatigue after running all over the city all day.

It was after this dinner that Jen and I, not quite tired but not technically awake thought we'd go out for "just one drink" to a club inappropriately named "Appocolypse Now" not far from our hotel. Despite the temptation of our hotel and our beds, we left our hotel and walked down the street. Passing people hanging out on their motorbikes and a few guys playing chess (?) on the sidewalk next to their bikes, we walked down a few blocks in search of the club. We passed a place called The Alibi and thought of home, then we passed an Irish bar as well as one that was in the shape of a giant barrel (an old western bar of course), before we passed by a store that had a little sign inside, "Foot massages. 90 minutes for $15 U.S."

We stopped. We rubbed our eyes. We looked at each other - 90 minutes for 15 dollars, really? While we were discussing the possibilities a young woman came out to draw us into the lobby.

"Here's the thing," Jen said, "We're very tired. Can we get 30 minute foot massages?"
"Oh yes," she said nodding. "That will be...nine U.S. dollars."

Not even bothering to figure out how the cost remained higher than it should have been, we nodded in agreement and moved slowly towards the light in the lobby.

While we sat there, one of the women ran out to get two beers for us while the other smiled and nodded as we sat there, two tired foreigners unable to believe our luck. When she returned and we each had a beer in hand, she motioned to us to follow her up the circular staircase. First one flight. Then another. And then another. Stopping on the third level of the store (and by "store" I mean "massage parlor"), she waved us into a locker room of sorts and pulled out two t-shirts and two pairs of plaid shorts.

"Put these on," she said, "and lock your stuff in the locker, then come out." She left and Jen and I looked at each other. We were in a foreign country and were being told to change into one-size-fits-Vietnamese clothing on the third level of a massage place at 9:30 at night. For a foot massage.

We tried to ask why we needed to change all of our clothes for a foot massage and ended up compromising. So we changed into the shorts and left the shirts, stuffing everything else into the locker with a hope that it'd still all be there when we returned.

Seeing that we'd changed our clothes, the woman waved us to follow her up another two flights. At the top, she opened a door to a dimly lit room. Inside there were two women in matching uniforms. Each pulled Jen and I into the large leather chairs and placed our feet into the warm bowls of water that had flower petals floating in them. Looking once more at each other and with a quick shake of both of our heads, I smiled as we both leaned back into the chair and hoped for the best. Of course the shortest woman ever was to work on me. Unable to reach my face while standing on the ground, she climbed onto the arm of the chair to carefully place strips of cuccumber across my face. Looking over at Jen, she was receiving the same treatment. Until she paused her girl so she could take a picture of me with the cuccumber strips all over my face. Fantastic.

The rest of the massage was a blur. Jen told me later that she was afraid that she'd fall asleep and I'd leave her there on the fifth floor of this place. It turned out that we were better negotiators than we originally thought since the entire thing lasted for 60 minutes and not just 30. That's right, a 60 minute foot massage for only nine U.S. dollars. While it wasn't the club, it turned out to be the better option. As we were leaving the massage room, Jen motioned the two women closer to me for a picture. At first they hung back suddenly shy but then in silent agreement, they both ran over to me and the little one who had giggled her way through working on my feet and legs that were easily almost as long as she is, wrapped her arm around me laughing for the picture. After Jen took it, she gave me a hug then ran over and hugged Jen as we walked back down the stairs to get our belongings (and pants).

We paid our $9 and tip and walked slowly back to the hotel. Relaxed and finally tired, we discussed how happy they probably were that we were who we are instead of gross old men. The next morning will be the start of our bike ride/adventure trip around the Mekong Delta in the southern part of Vietnam. The massage helped get us started in the right direction. And a massage that ends with pictures has got to be one of the best kind. 

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