The Vientiane Massage Story

Are all massages made the same? Are all saunas made the same? Can YOU picture yourself getting a massage in a monastery compound? After you read this story, you will have all the answers. It even has a happy ending (tee hee).

It was a typical massage quest on a relaxed day in Vientiane, Laos, the quiet capital city of the country. We spent a day there before heading further North, and, for lack of anything more enticing to do, decided to look for a massage.

"Hey, check out my book, it says you can get a massage at this temple, " said Jeni.

"Really? AT the temple? With monks everywhere?" asked Lia.

This was a mystery we just couldn't resist, so we headed off on our rickety rented beach cruisers for the mysterious massage/sauna/prayer temple complex. After pedaling for a while, we reached a sandy road/path (there are many of these in Laos) off a main paved road. There was a wat-like archway at the front of the path.

Inside the complex, monks were going about their daily business. Sweeping, chanting, drying the ubiquitous bright orange robes in the sun. Smoking a cigarette near the potted plants (why is it always so strange to see Monks doing things that everyone else does? I'll never know). We asked them:

"Sauna? Massage?" Nods. Smiles. Points.

"Black hut," he says.

"Khawp Jai!" we say, and head off down a path. After pedaling a little while through the sand and lush greenery, and more robes drying, we come to a hut. It is, in fact, black from the huge stream of smoke/steam pouring up from a steel barrel below, opened on the side. It is frothing a pungent herbing mixture.

We say hello to the men up above on a deck. We are handed sarongs of suspect cleanliness and told to change. Due to the language barrier, it's unclear how much we are supposed to disrobe. We ask ourselves, "Can one really be semi-naked in a monastery? Really?" We decide...yes.

We are all ushered into a tiny room that is filled, and i mean FILLED with steam from the barrel below. It's so hot! It's blinding! We can't see anything so run into each other, coughing and sputtering. Within minutes, we are soaked.

We emerge into what before was the Laos heat and now feels like aircon. We drink salty hot water and stew in our own sweat for the requisite 15 minutes before being ushered to massage, um, tables, on a little veranda. I had to control my thoughts to avoid thinking about how many sweaty bodies had lay where I was about to put my body.

We are pummeled and punched and cracked (every vertebra, baby) until we are sweaty balls of jelly, while our masseurs laugh and tell jokes to each other in Lao. Sound awesome? It was!

We biked home in relaxed bliss, waving to the monks on our way out. Not your everyday spa experience!