The ‘Special Honeymoon Package’ in Aston Legend Villas was promising and proved surprising. It included a complimentary ‘Lomé Lomé’ (Hawaiian) massage for two. I have not been massaged by anyone but Carlos, my physiotherapist and Saar, my wife. So I admit I was a little excited when we entered the spa pavilion. A rather chubby Balinese beauty welcomed us. During the intake chat we savored a refreshing ginger drink.
I told her about my back problems and she strongly advised against the ‘Lomé Lomé’ massage. “… because we use this one!”, she said, pointing at her impressive elbow. It didn’t take more than that to convince me to change to another type of massage. Saar also seemed to have understood her body language loud and clear and we both switched to the ‘Balinese Warm Aromatherapy Massage’ with ginger oil.
Our hostess instructed a young, shyly smiling assistant to warm the oil.
We were left alone in the treatment room. A sarong and ‘one-size-fits-all’ throw away knickers for both of us. After changing and a knock on the door the two women, who would be spoiling us for the next hour, came in. We had to sit on a wooden bench and got a warm foot bath and heavenly foot massage. Why didn’t it surprise me that our hostess directed me to her treatment table and not to that of her young assistant? The sarong covered us and was delicately removed from the spot that was treated. The massage was intensely relaxing until a few firm jolts transformed my knickers into a tight thong and my masseuse started to work my buttocks and inner thighs. Because I was laying with my head down and my nose in a hole in the table, I couldn’t see whether or not Saar was giving the same treatment. I had a flashback of the ‘Friends’ episode where Ross visited Joey’s tailor who had a rather original method to measure the length of one’s trousers. I kept repeating the same mantra, in my head, over and over again: “This is what masseuses do!, this is what masseuses do!, …” and stayed put bravely, yet slightly cramped. Saar didn’t utter a sound so, after I while, I assumed everything was done the way it should be.
For some strange reason I was nonetheless happy that I hadn’t switched to the ‘Warm Herbal Ball Massage’.
Back in the villa the ‘Complimentary Fruit Platter’ awaited us. It consisted of two small red apples and an orange. I my imagination it had been an enormous bowl with at least a ripe pineapple, some mangoes and a watermelon of a respectable size. The honeymoon cake also wasn’t what I had expected it to be. It was a tiny bright pink, heart shaped piece pastry, on top of which the baker had written an appropriate text, in chocolate letters. It was a little difficult to decipher but, no doubt, penned with the best intentions.
It looked like this: Happ