Mud, A Trough .. and Pigs

Tags

#Cuba, #familyvacation, #funny, #massage, #mud, #mudpack, #nohappyending, #spa

I’ve been to Cuba many times, but on this particular vacation we decided to try a new spot – Santiago de Cuba; it’s very different from the usual vacation spots of Varadero or Havana in that it’s mountainous and lush. There were 8 of us in total – we decided to let the kids each bring a friend to keep them busy; me and my wife, my sister-in-law Jenn, my mother-in-law Agnes, David, Jimmy, Lynsey and Tiffany. Tiff is Guyanese with slightly darker skin than my pastey English white so I had a few laughs telling everyone Tiffany was my Cuban girlfriend which seemed pretty common there. She wasn’t impressed.

For an excursion we chose a “Spa Day” advertised as a relaxing day of mud packs to improve circulation and enhance the skin followed by a massage in the open air. Allana had always wanted me to have a massage but I’d balked at the idea – the thought of paying someone to tickle me didn’t sound very relaxing but as I’ve said before…when in Rome … or Cuba…

Since there were 8 of us going to the spa we had an entire mini-bus to ourselves which was nice. We passed beautiful countryside; where the sounds of the animals could be heard … oh wait, that was our driver! He didn’t speak a word of English but EVERY mile he’d snort and hork and make such disgusting noises we nearly pissed ourselves laughing. We’re easily entertained.

We eventually passed what looked like a local roadside bar as we turned into our little oasis. We also passed a lot of pigs along the road as we stretched our necks looking for the pristine, ceramic-tiled, lemongrass-scented spa. Funny…the bus stopped at a rundown farmhouse and “Horker” opened the doors for us to get out. Excuse me? Where are we? Obviously no answer as “No Inglesh”. A team of “therapists” greeted us and advised us to change into our swimsuits. Arriving back outside we were told to line up side by side and each “therapist” chose one of us and began to apply buckets full of black, sulphur-smelling goo to the parts of our body that were visible between our swimsuit bits. What the fuck? It reeked! They continued to slap the “muck” on us till the buckets were empty then told us to go bake in the sun for 30min and pointed to a bench beside a creek where the pigs were enjoying their afternoon refreshment. One by one, in a long line, we walked to the suggested area. It was going to be a long 30min. I looked up to the bar and imagined all the locals looking at us laughing, “Haha, look at those gringos! They just paid to have pig shit lathered on them!” After the designated amount of time, our “therapists” came to tell us we could wash the muck off in the trough – the same one the pigs were in! Our tribe had to crouch down in a circle and scoop water from a old tap and try to rub the goo “pig shit” off each other!

I was really looking forward to the massage to make up for this bizarre muck ritual. My mother-in-law had never had a massage either and she insisted on a woman. Hmmm, maybe I should have a woman too 🙂 No suck luck, oops sorry typo…I meant no such luck! I had a very large, heavy-handed Cuban but I decided to go with it and closed my eyes in preparation. “Everything ok sir?” he asked in very clear English. “Yes, very good” as I settled into my calm place. As he pressed harder into my back he said “We don’t get paid much for this job”. Oh dear….. “I work long hours and not much money” – ok so at what point does my relaxing massage start? This continued on through the entire process. I think I would have preferred the snorting, horking bus driver with no English to massage me!

We all ended up outside the “spa” – discussing our individual experiences as the “therapist” explained the benefits to our skin. Allana asked if I enjoyed my first massage; I just smiled, rolled my eyes and thought there was definitely no happy ending!

As I look at this picture it reminds me of the joke about the “Fucawee Tribe” – a group of 3ft tall pygmies living in 4ft high grass who keep jumping up and down saying “Where the Fucawee?”.