August 3rd: “Spa” Day

We arrived outside a house maybe half an hour or so from our hotel. The sign outside boasted that they could treat a plethora of conditions, including but not limited to paralysis, joint pain, and obesity. This is where Akhila had booked our hair oil treatments and massages. When we walked in there was a series of pictures of different services we could choose. It was very similar to ordering food off of a menu based on pictures, except we didn’t know the prices.

They could only take one girl and one boy at a time. Fiona and Yu-Ja went first, both for full body massages. Meanwhile, Lina, Jason, Akrita and I had decided we really wanted some fruit so we wandered around the neighborhood a bit. We ended up getting several coconuts to share. The vender hacked the tops off with a machete then placed in straws for each of us. The coconut water wasn’t extremely sweet, but was still enjoyable. When Fiona and Yu-Ja came out, Jason and I went in. The woman instructed me to remove the top half of my clothing, and then sat me, topless, in a metal chair. I tried to act calm, like hey I’m sure she just loves massaging topless white girls. This isn’t weird or anything. It’s times like this that you repeat to yourself over and over “This is a cultural experience. This is a cultural experience. This is a cultural experience.”

In the metal chair she started massaging oil on my scalp, and it was, I admit, pretty relaxing. She then massaged my shoulders a bit and pushed me forward to brush over my upper back. She then laid out a towel on a metal table and instructed me to lie down. My head was placed in a divot at the end of the table. To my immense relief, she placed a cloth over my top half. She then tied a string under my hair and right over my eyebrows. She placed two pieces of cotton on my eyes and secured them with the string.

I then heard the sound of heating oil. “Holy guacamole” I thought, “she’s going to pour boiling oil on my face”. I tried to remain nonchalant, my eyes covered, wishing I could watch what was going on. This is what I reasoned from the sounds in the room: She filled a hanging pot over my head with oil and rocked it so it moved slowly back and forth across my forehead. The oil, despite my fears, was a very pleasant temperature. The oil would then drain under my head into a metal bucket, which she would heat back up and pour back in the hanging pot. I only figured that there was a device pouring the oil on me because I could hear the woman moving around the room. She would also intermittently massage my hair and head as the oil poured over me.

The treatment in total lasted around 45 minutes, interrupted occasionally by “Barbie Girl” playing from someone’s cell phone. At the end she squeezed the oil from my hair and sat me back down in the metal chair, where she wiped oil off of me and ran her fingers, determinedly, through the knots in my hair. She came away with a pretty good chunk. I felt strangely that I wanted to apologize for my knots, but then tried to rationalize that even Indian women probably had knots in their hair, and think about how much longer their hair was compared to mine. She put my hair into a bun and sent me outside to sit for the next three hours or four hours while we waited for everyone else to complete their treatments.

We sat, covered in oil, in their entry room until 6pm or so. At points some of us would leave, walk around, buy some food. Lina and I both bought samosas at a local bakery. The samosas in Hyderabad, like the food in general, were much spicier than the ones I had eaten in Kolkata and the US. We got back to the hotel around 6:30 or so and had to leave for Akhila’s house by 7:15, so we took turns hoping in the shower to try to wash of the large quantities of oil. After shampooing twice, I still had oil in my hair, and I suspect it will linger for a while.

While getting ready, Lina, Fiona, and I (well Fiona really) decided that we should all wear bright red lipstick. We met up with everyone, donning fiery lips, and drove to Akhila’s, late per usual because it seems like its impossible for us to all be ready on time.

Akhila’s family’s house is stunning. All of the floors, stairs, etc, are made out of marble. They served us all freshly macheted coconuts, and then brought out some guavas sprinkled in salt and chili power. Lillian then gave us all hand painted cards she had bought at the market that day (there is a camel painted on mine, no big deal its totally awesome). They then ushered us to another room where they had a large spread of homemade food. It was probably the best Indian food I’ve ever had. They kept it much more mild for us than they normally ate. Some of the dishes included vegetable biryani, eggplant stuffed with spices, and these rice cakes. For dessert they had several options, including the Indian equivalent of cotton candy.

Sitting around enjoying coconut water

Guava with salt and chili powder

We then were brought upstairs to a sitting room. Akhila’s younger sister painted our eyes and gave us bindis as they served us ice cream. Akhila and her sister then performed a traditional Indian song for us. They then pushed aside all the chairs, and to Fiona’s request, started blasting One Direction. Amu and Akhila then tought us traditional Indian dance moves (very à la Slum Dog Millionaire) and some Bollywood moves. We, of course, looked ridiculous.

We got home around 11 or so, and hurriedly packed so that we could get to bed around 12:30 or so. We would be getting up the next morning at 4:30 and leaving the hotel by 5am.