Cynthia and I went to Siem Reap to conduct some "work related" business. At least this is what we told everyone. Hans gave us some money to buy books written in English for the library. Nothing like that is available in our village, so naturally, we just had to take a weekend trip.
Since we came all the way here, it only made sense to eat some pizza, get massages, go shopping, do a little sight-seeing... We just wanted to help boost the local economy and further our cultural knowledge, of course.
This is my room at the Ladybug Guesthouse. For $10 a night, I got a private bathroom, a fan, free wifi, and it was surprisingly clean. The crown molding and lavender painted walls added a touch of elegance. The best part was that my room was located on the bottom floor (virtually unheard of), so I didn't have to walk up four flights of stairs to reach it.
Cynthia and I decided to get full body oil massages. I randomly chose this place that offered an hour long $6 oil massage. I should have been more suspicious, given we were the only females, and there was a full bar in the entrance. But, in my ignorance and quest for bliss, my only consideration was that it was $2-3 cheaper than all the other parlors. The place looked kind of sketchy from the beginning. It didn't have a name, and the massage rooms were located on the top floor of a restaurant. All the windows were covered with closed black curtains. Certainly, all the clues were there, and I should have been more prepared as we made our way up the stairs.
On the top floor, there were several private rooms, but they were all occupied, so I was taken the series of beds with curtains between them. While I was got undressed, I heard the female masseuse on the other side of the curtain encouraging her male customer to select a few add-on services. He declined. She purred, giggled, and tried her best, but he ended up leaving after his boring, regular massage.
I had a male masseur. He was a nice, young Cambodian guy. We chatted a bit. He practiced his English while I practiced my Khmer. The massage started out fairly normally. However, it quickly became apparent that his goal was not primarily to work out the knots in my muscles. Things stated getting weirder when I flipped on my back, and he began asking me personal questions while he rubbed my stomach. He told me I was beautiful, which I ignored because I figured he was angling for a big tip.
At this point, I was lying there in my panties, with the towel covering only my breasts. Suddenly, he pointed at the towel and made a massage motion with his hands. Clearly, he was asking if it was ok to rub my boobs. I know this is common practice in some Asian countries, but I have never personally experienced it. It took me about half a second to indicate I would permit this. As a visitor to this foreign country, I merely wanted to get the full cultural experience. Plus, what better way to honor International Women's Day?
He massaged my breasts for a full ten minutes, making sure to lather them up good with oil. It was so hard not to laugh. I kept telling myself to act normal and pretend like this happens all the time. When he concluded my mammary massage, he told me his name was Tra, and that I should come back again tomorrow and ask for him.
After we left, Cynthia told me her massage was great and her girl had great technique, massaged her muscles and pressure points and such. I gaped at her and said, "Uh...we had very different massages. I think I just paid for a sexual act."
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