Ms Odas

I rode down the hill first thing this morning in search of breakfast and a blip, hopefully combining the two to give me something to write about.

Introducing Ms Odas, a very cheerful young lady, who runs this stall. She has cooked for me before and the food is delicious and $0.50 is not bad for a filling breakfast. This morning Odas prepared Kupat Tahu for my delectation while I fired off a dozen or so images.

Last time I had Nasi Kuning, a rice (nasi) dish with lots of bits and pieces added with a sprinkle of this and a dash of that, you get the picture. There is a dining table that is always occupied by two or three people, so Odas' food is very popular, consequently she is not likely to go hungry herself. Personally, I take my food as a take-a-way, hence the black bag. Breakfast with Odas is and will be a fairly regular occurrence, if the mobile bubur chef does not get me first.

The Bandung story - part 16

A large part of Indonesian culture, is the massage, so I thought I would pay tribute to this tradition with a page or two of massage stories, but where to start!

All the top hotels employ a masseur, engaged by the hour, who will come to your room and serve you a bone twisting, joint cracking, relaxing massage. There are various standards of high street masseur establishments, some really abusing the trades descriptions act as all they really want to do is polish your plum. There is the blind massage parlors and every campung will have a granny or two that do massage. Even in the bars, a masseur is often found who will work your arms and shoulders, while you exercise your elbow.

My first experience of the massage was on my second day in Bandung, when my work agent took me to a parlor. Somehow it just didn't seem right, massage parlors shouldn't have a bar and what was the semi circular bench at the far end, seating twenty scantily dressed young ladies all about? I did find out, but seeing as it had very little to do with massage, I won't discuss it any further here.

The regular parlors tend to be grubby affairs, as they don't make a lot of money, so you can't expect them to pour the money back into the establishment for your comfort, after all, the equipment required for a massage is basic, a small mattress, a saucer of oil, some towels and a curtained off area. Usually these places will offer you an album of photographs for you to select your masseur. This is a joke, as the girls never look anything like the photos. The temptation may be to go for the pretty girl but this would be a mistake, if you want a proper massage, you need to go for the blurry photo of the gnarly old girl who has been inflicting pain for thirty years or more.

One time, I over did it in the pool hall, playing 9-ball non-stop for eleven hours. The next day I was in agony and Tesa suggested we go for a massage. I suggested we try a blind massage parlor for a change. I say 'we' because Tesa never passes up the opportunity to take a massage.

In years gone by, severe eye problems were all treated the same way, by the complete and permanent removal of the eye, leaving the unfortunate patient totally blind and what is worse, totally unemployable and in a country with no benefit or support structure, in danger of starving to death. The blind massage parlor saved the lives of these unfortunate souls, offering a way to make enough money to survive, offering a service to the many people who desired a massage, but were shy about their bodies being seen by others.

We took a taxi and found a parlor, a very gloomy affair, no bintangs being served here, that was for sure. I would have questioned the sanity of my decision except I was in so much pain, I no longer cared. I was led off through a waiting area and into a gloomy cubicle, it seemed that I was being given preferential treatment, not having to wait my turn, I wasn't complaining.

To be continued.

Dave