What do Canadian teachers do when Morocco grants them a Wednesday off to celebrate Independence Day? Why, they go to the spa, of course, to work out all the knots and kinks acquired on Monday and Tuesday. This knotty exposé (the closest to kinky prose you will ever find on this site) explores one woman’s search for the nonexistent no-man’s-land between “relaxant” (relaxing) and “tonic” (???) massage. Relax, dear reader, and enjoy the show.
Massage in Canada involves sheets and undergarments. Not so in Morocco.
I should have been prepared for this. I discovered at the doctor’s office that those modesty-inducing hospital gowns are nowhere on the Moroccan radar. I made a similar discovery at the esthetician’s and at the hammam. Why would I think massage would be any different?
I will not trouble you with an exhaustive narrative of the experience; I will simply provide you with a helpful chart for future reference. I suggest you print it, laminate it and keep it in your purse; it will be an invaluable aid next time you are considering an afternoon of pampering in Casablanca:
| What I Expected | What I Got |
| Sheets, towels, anything… | A whole lot of open air |
| My own predictable panties | A disposable thong made of paper and string |
| Diagnostic questions about my health | Pick your poison: “Tonique ou relaxant?” |
| Careful probing for muscles in need of expert therapy | Indiscriminate wringing of organs, torso and appendages |
| Responsiveness to grunts and yelps | Exasperated eyerolling. “Tu veux tonique! Je fais tonique!” |
| Modest amounts of unscented, hypoallergenic massage oil… | A good half gallon of gooey, lemony (cooking?) oil… |
| …gently worked into the skin as needed to reduce friction | …dripping from every limb, digit, follicle and orifice, deep-fryer style |
| A tiny bit of soap, or paint thinner, or something | “Savon?? Argent!!” No money, no clean. |
| Spinal care, pain reduction | Scalp scraping, pain infliction |
| Spinal care, relaxation | Calf battering, rigor mortis |
| Spinal care, prim discretion | Bosom groping, blind invasion |
| Un bonne journée de bon santé | Un grand mal de tête! |
I endured this massage much as I endured having my chin reassembled at the emergency department of the local hospital; in time, I must believe that both scars will heal. I must believe that human decency will one day prevail on massage tables across this land, or, at the very least, that mandatory anger management courses will find their way into Moroccan law. What hope is there otherwise for this country’s beleaguered educators?
Yes, I must maintain some semblance of hope. But for now, I am just glad to be home, squeaky clean after my third restorative shower. You might envy Morocco’s oddly-placed mid-week holidays, but I’m just glad that my spa stress is over, and I can return to work on Thursday to get some very-much-needed rest.
Oh Natasha! You brave girl! Thanks for the warning! I’ll get your chart laminated and ready for the lemony oil mess!!! Phew!! I laughed and laughed!
What’s so brave about that?! I would be brave if I decided to go again.