Close to King

It looks like it may rain today.  This is a very good thing.  We need something to cut through this air.  It may be illusory, but it’s always a bit fresher after the heavens unload. 

Rather depressing driving around later in the day.  It’s a lovely idea to head into the city that we live on the outskirts of.  You plan a trip with two destinations.  I’ll drop you guys off at that spa, and then we’ll have dinner.  They are close to each other.  But the traffic is ridiculous.  And mass transit in Beijing, always feels as if it were built for someone else’s convenience.

I was going to sit-out the spa.  Let the ladies enjoy themselves and I’ll finish my book.  But who am I kidding?  My neck has been killing me for days.  This place offers massages, right?  Why not? 

My daughters and I were lured by the suggestive line:  “In the world of Beijing bathhouses, Shunjingwenquan is close to king” from an article in Time Out Beijing.  http://www.timeoutbeijing.com/venue/Health-Spas/25135/Shunjing-Spa.html .  Arriving, it is suitably huge.   One heads down an escalator and into labyrinthine, series of underground hallways, and counters.  We get our magic bracelets and go are separate ways as I head for the gents dressing room. 

More stairs and then through another pointless passageway, and then up a flight of stairs, then through one more another hallway.  Eventually I reached some lockers, but they were different letters than those on my bracelet.  Crossing a doorway an automatic message sounded off, welcoming me, telling me to watch my head.  I turned back but a guy in a spa uniform beckoned me forward. 

Suited, I asked one attendant and then another: “where is the place you get a massage?”  “A neck massage” I added rubbing my throat, to clarify that everything was well above board.  “First put on these clothes.”  “Do I have to put on the pants?”  “No.  It’s OK.”  Once again, I walked through dimly lit rooms one hundred or more empty beds and down now, into the cavernous main room. 

It was very poorly lit and this was probably a good thing, because the make believe walkways, bridges and trees did not look particularly well cared for.  None of the pools had more than one family or couple splashing about and the general feeling was bordering on abandonment.  Eventually I found a room where a bald fellow and another young lady were mid-massage with someone.  After a good five-minute haggle I was able to get them to agree on a simple 30 minute massage, rather than the one-hour one they were trying to push on me. 

A young lady, from Datong, it turns out, with capable thumbs and a knowing air, dove into my neck and shoulders.  Lying face down, I got some of my reading in, after all.  Early on I could feel some of the tension releasing.  Wonderful.  The half hour passed, as though it were ten minutes.  I felt better, relaxed, ready for dinner.

Later driving home after our meal, on the airport expressway, rain pouring down, the front right tire blew.  We drove on for a bit but clearly, we weren’t going to make it to an exit without some horrible devastation to the axil, so I pulled over.   I couldn’t find any reflector triangles to set up behind us.  Rather, I walked back thirty yards and lay two bundles of firewood in the shoulder, realizing that this would provide scant notice and even less protection.

The last time I changed a tire was probably two years back.  I reckon I've changed a tire six or seven times in my life.  Enough to know I can do it, but not enough to prevent you second guessing the basics as you winch the car upwards and upwards in the rain, eyeing the base of the jack to make sure it isn’t going to slip and all come crashing down.

Wet and gritty but the change went smoothly.  We were on our way again soon.  No big deal.  But this morning when I woke both shoulders were notably sore and stiff.  It seemed that all the good work of my Shanxi masseuse had been undone.  I presumed that this was on account of all the lug nuts I was loosening and tightening with my newly slack upper body.  But maybe she just dug in too deep.