Around when we first started dating Greg kept telling me about this place he’d gone to for a foot massage called Happy Feet. “Eeeeewww, I don’t want people touching my feet! Gross!” I just couldn’t get to grips with the idea of a stranger touching my feet, and paying them to do it (I mean, shame for them, right?). Now we’re considering going for a spa day for our 2nd wedding anniversary, so it seemed like at some point I’d need to get used to the idea of this massage business.
So for my most recent birthday (last year), Greg gave me a little voucher (i.e a piece of paper stating) that he’d treat me to a foot massage at Happy Feet whenever I want. Well, we finally found a time last Monday (only a little bit after my birthday. About 6 months as a rough estimate). We booked for 9pm which we figured would give us enough time to get home from work, make and eat dinner, and head out on our way.
Well, first let me recommend that the person taking you knows where they are going. Walking around Thibault square in circles in the dark did not have me feeling the safest. Eventually we found the sign outside some Chinese restaurant and some hotel. Going up into a lift that smelt like cigarettes (I chuckled at the “no smoking” sign) and walking into this Asian themed area and directed to our designated little room.
The couches were the comfiest I’ve sat on, if that counts for anything, but the rest of it seemed a little brothel like to me (or what I’d imagine a brothel to look like). I shuddered to think of the activities that go on there after dark (Greg and I were debating whether any of these actually happen). He then assured me, no, promised me, that it seems a whole lot less dodgy in the day time. Point for next time: go while the sun is still shining.
In comes the Asian masseuse ladies (who don’t seem to speak much if any English), with the most powerful little hands I’ve ever felt. This was my very first professional massage experience at all (clearly not girly enough to be considered female, am I?) and I found it, interesting. I spent most of the time watching what she was doing to my feet (trust me, they have some fancy moves), and I kind of wished I’d had a copy of that reflexology chart located on the door. Sometimes, she’d press too hard into my little foot, and I’d kind of wince and smile all at the same time. We’d kind of smile at each other awkwardly in understanding, and she’d press a little less hard accordingly. I was tempted to take photos, but figured that could have been pretty awkward too.
I’ll be honest, it hurt a little (or a lot sometimes), but was oddly relaxing. It felt sinful to actually walk on solid ground again afterwards. I came out having enjoyed myself, but with mixed feelings – I’m a teeny tiny bit apprehensive about this spa day situation, in case I come out hurting, but Greg assures me we’ll find something suitable. Either way, it was a great night out, especially different to the norm (night in, on the couch, watching Survivor) and a pretty cool “date night” (which we totally don’t do enough of). So remember, if you do go, do so during sunshine hours. And don’t think of brothels, whatever your do.
As a side note, if you have any wonderful spa recommendations in Cape Town, please send them my way 🙂