Some of the most painful experiences of my life have been grooming and massages. It began in 1997, when I decided to visit a traditional Turkish Bath. After prepping in a steam-filled room, a massive, muscle-bound attendant began the Kese—a traditional scrub using a coarse handmade mitt. There was no soap, just water and pure, aggressive friction. He used long, firm strokes with such ferocity that I saw "rolls" of dark material shedding off my skin. It was a visceral process of shedding years of environmental pollutants, but the intensity was so high I honestly thought my skin might peel off right then and there.
I was relieved when it was over, assuming the peak of physical intensity was behind me. I was wrong.
In India, I went for a haircut and shave. The barber gave me a scalp massage that was, briefly, heavenly. But then, without warning, he took my head firmly in his hands and gave my neck a massive, bone-jarring "crick." It was totally unexpected and not altogether welcome.
In Thailand, I sought out a massage to help with my tight muscles. The masseuse took my lack of flexibility as a personal affront. She pulled me into all sorts of contorted, impossible positions and seemed to view my cries of pain as a sign that she was finally "winning."
The finale took place in Singapore, while I was on my way to the Arctic. I decided on a foot massage, which turned out to be the most painful experience of my life. She pushed so deeply into the soles of my feet that I felt the pressure in my very marrow. I came close to yelling, "Okay, okay, I confess!"—certain she was looking for state secrets rather than tension.
Looking back on my travels, there is a strange irony in seeking out peace and ending up in a state of physical combat. From the scrub of a muscle-bound Turk to the sudden, neck-snapping "crick" in India, I have been scrubbed, contorted, and pressured into a version of relaxation I’m not sure I ever actually agreed to. It’s a vivid reminder that the body has its own story to tell, and sometimes, the only way to "find yourself" is to have a stranger in Singapore try to push your soul out through the bottom of your feet.
