Chapter 2

Wiped Out!

Rubbed the Wrong Way

This place was convenient to areas I liked to frequent so I often went there after hours and that is how I found the massage place. It was located on a narrow slit of a street between mouldering dark unlit buildings. The only bit of colour there was the massage place itself. Here among dingy walk-ups, their muted windows encased in rusting iron gratings, stood a beautiful young Chinese girl dressed in a glimmering gold satin ball gown, fit for Cinderella. She stood behind a small wooden podium, a brightly colored neon sign above her head, flashing the parlor's name. The pseudo-princess escorted me inside and upward, away from the grim alley below.

The massage venues in China can run from the seedy low-lit places that one of my Australian buddies calls, "A rub and tug joint", to very posh establishments, with showers, robes and in some cases, full buffets and humidors, stocked with real Cuban cigars! My parlour of choice fell far short of the latter and a bit better of the former; no locker, no buffet, but pj's, some orange slices and thin plastic cups of luke warm green tea.
All I wanted was a soothing massage as a nice end to a perfect evening. This night should have been no different than any other time I had went there. I asked for one of two girls that I knew and was then led to a private room, where I sat watching bad Chinese TV for fifteen minutes. A girl pulled back the curtain over the doorway and entered. I had never seen her before--no problem I thought, so in broken Chinese, sign language and a little English I explained my wishes to her. I did know how to say in Chinese, "A little harder" (Chong yi dian) and "A little softer" (Qing yi dian), essential for surviving a Chinese massage, the latter phrase being the most frequently used. I can't recall ever once telling one of the strong handed, country girls who were most likely less than six months off the farm, she wasn't grinding her elbow, thumb or finger joint deeply enough into the soft tissues of my body.

This was a real massage place, not a rub joint. If I wanted that I could go for the full treatment from any number of young country girls that lined practically every large pedestrian bridge on this side of town after the sun began to set. Guangzhou is thick with hookers and many if not most are all young women sent in from the poorer countryside of other neighboring provinces. Guangzhou is a city built on commerce and there are thousands of foreigners living there who are quite willing to part with their money for the pleasure of an 18 or 20 year old angel of the night, but that is another story for another time.

Shortly after serving me the prerequisite warm tea and fruit, the masseuse returned. She was pushing a large wooden bucket on wheels, filled with fragrant hot water, in which she soon placed my feet. The water it's said, contains 20 some odd herbal medicines, all I know is that it felt fantastic. She watched T.V. for about ten minutes on the opposite massage chair while I fell willing victim to the water's intense heat and ancient Chinese chemistry. She removed the tub shortly after and returned with fresh tea,insisting I drink, and began her magic on my soft, water-wrinkled feet. The girl stared at me closely in an odd way as she worked, unlike the other girls, who usually looked over their shoulder watching the TV as they mindlessly squeezed and poked at my body parts. I began drifting in an out of lucidity--was I really that fatigued? And why was she smiling so coyly at me? Soon the unfathomable noise from the TV and its lurid color images and my masseuse all began to swim and merge in a muddled visual mess before me. I was either seeing things or I was dreaming. Then came oblivion...

Morning arrived with a dull headache and a throbbing sensation behind my eyes and at first I was not sure of my surroundings. "Ah! The massage parlour" I thought to myself. I sat up groggily, and looked around for my clothes, which I had folded neatly hours before and placed under the massage chair. The one big disadvantage to this cheaper place was no storage lockers, so I made do by always carefully concealing my clothes beneath the very low recliners, rather than the small cupboard nestled between the chairs. When the chair is fully reclined, as it had been while I was conked out, the clearance underneath is only three inches. It would have been impossible to pull them out from under without snagging the chair, because the various things in my pockets made them too thick. The only way to remove them would be for me not to be on the chair, or for someone to stealthily remove each item from the pockets before pulling them out.

When I raised the chair from it's bed position to the sitting arrangement, I stood staring for a few brief seconds at the floor; only my shirt was laying there--no pants! I looked over to the other side by the wall, but that was pointless. I lifted the chair now, looking under the front part, but there was nothing there either except some long time resident dust bunnies. I realized in that moment that I had been robbed of not only my pants, but my wallet that contained $2,000 U.S. dollars and my bank card, my mobile phone and worst of all--my passport! I went into instant panic! I threw back the flimsy bamboo drape that acted as a door over the entryway and walked down the hall dressed in the thin, pajama shorts I had changed into prior to my massage. I called out in Chinese, "Xiao Jie! Xiao Jie!" (Miss! Miss!). At once down the hallway ahead I heard the scurrying of tiny feet coming toward me. Around the corner came two young Chinese girls looking bewildered. I pointed to my bare legs, swept my arms about the room and shouted frantically, "Where are my pants! Where are my...things!". They looked at me as if I were some psycho, but one approached me and followed me back to my private room. I lifted the chair and pointed to the dusty floor, then swept my arms around the room and repeated what I had said in the hall but with more panic in my voice. The girl looked at me with big soulful eyes, nodding her head up and down and then turned and ran out and down the hall, her friend in tow.

Soon a gentleman in a suit, clutching a staticy two way radio appeared. I explained to him my things were gone. We then sat down across from one another, he contemplating the matter, his elbow on his knee, a finger tapping at his protruding lips, brows knitting. He said something into his radio, and after a few seconds received a short reply. He had inquired as to when I checked in and who had given the massage. If he seemed surprised or unhappy by the news I couldn't tell. Then he asked what was missing. I explained that my pants, my money, my passport and my wallet and phone were all gone. I showed him how I had placed them under the chair. He then asked for my phone number. He dialed it using his own phone and after a few seconds, he looked at me, then began to speak softly back into his radio, putting his hand over the phone. He then asked, "You give how much?" I didn't grasp this at first then realized; the brazen thief actually answered my phone and now wanted payment for the return of my things! I told the gentleman I only wanted my passport and phone's SIM card. He nodded solemnly and then talked on the phone again.

He closed his phone and told me they wouldn't accept that--I should offer some money. Because they had my wallet with the bank card in it, I couldn't retrieve money! I said to call them to bring my bank card and I would give them 200 RMB; they already had $2,000! Then I explained to the man how much had actually been on me that night. His eyes widened, then he seemed to gage me differently. On his second call the idiot thieves asked for my PIN number! I jumped up and took the phone from him, yelling into the mouthpiece in Chinese, "Do you think I am stupid? Give me my passport! Bring me my SIM card! 200 RMB is all!" The thief hung up. I decided it was pointless after that. I pointed to my bare legs and asked if they had something I could wear so I could leave. The man talked on the radio and within a few minutes another man came in with a pair of packaged shorts. As I started to put them on, a girl came in with my missing pants in her hands! I quickly grabbed them and searched the pockets, only to find a 10 RMB note in a front pocket. We all went next door where the girl had found them and we all looked under and behind and on top of everything, but no luck. Why? I was thinking; the thief had readily admitted as to having my things.

I thanked everyone and left the place and headed to the only place I could think of--McDonald's. To fully appreciate my situation, understand that I was to be heading to Hong Kong that day. That was the purpose of having all that cash with me. I began to think, who knew about this? Who tipped off the massage girl I was loaded? Who knew I would be coming there? Had I said something earlier to someone I shouldn't have? For the first time in my four years in China, I felt totally venerable and exposed. And my suspicions about a shifty friend began to grow and fester in my thoughts; I was in a city of thieves after all, and only two people knew about me carrying all that money that night. Sipping coffee and staring out the large plate glass windows that looked out onto the ever busy Huangshi Dong Lu, I contemplated my future.