In Kampot, the only legit place to get a massage is from the blind masseuses at the Seeing Hands Institute, which offers hour long massages for $3. We decided to while away an afternoon by getting massages. The atmosphere left a little to be desired, out in the open with the massage people chatting amongst themselves and an audience on the street, but the price could not be beat. Of course what I had forgotten since my last Asian massage back in 2001 was that the experience is pure torture for me. And not the good kind.

I knew I was in for it when she started the massage by trying to separate all the muscles in my back from my spine. She worked really hard at it but apparently that wasn't enough so she moved on to my shoulders. Obviously intuiting that I had bursitis in my shoulder and therefore that joint would be the most sensitive area of my body, the Torturer spent at least 15 minutes working me over until I was whimpering in pain and edging off the mat. Not satisfied, she then focused on my biceps. Now I was under the impression that the biceps were relatively safe muscles to massage, but no, the Torturer was able to get her tiny forceps - I mean fingers - into little crevasses in between my muscles and twist and poke at me for another painful 10 minutes. After applying knuckles and karate chops to my entire head (including my sinuses) the Torturer stood on my back and popped the first knuckle of each of my fingers and toes, applied a few karate chops to the soles of my feet, and ended the entire session by slapping me several times on the back.

Pearse tipped my masseuse an extra dollar. He said it was because he thought I enjoyed it since he didn't hear me shout "ow!" every few minutes, like last time. I, however, suspect they were in cahoots and he tipped her a little extra for the additional torture. All in all I left with a headache but only slightly bruised. Hopefully I heal before he talks me into going again.