Day 40: “The gooch scraper…” – Kunming

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As we’d managed to knock off 543 km in one go, we allowed ourselves an extra night in Kunming, a large city of 5 million people with historical origins dating back 2’400 years. For most of the day we wandered around trying to find somewhere to wash our clothes but, because everyone charged per item, the prices were extortionate. So we gave up and decided to try and find a spa to relax in instead. If we couldn’t get clean clothes, we reasoned, we may as well get clean bodies.

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We asked our receptionist where we could find a ‘clean spa’, meaning not a brothel. She gave us some vague directions to the part of town she thought it was. We followed them and eventually found a spa-like place. It was ridiculously cheap, and even though I doubted it was the one the receptionist had in mind, we went in anyway. After getting very naked, we walked in and were instructed to have a shower.

Once showered, we were ushered into a large Jacuzzi where, being the only ones in there, we started to relax. It was at this exact point that my memory was ripped out of my head and irrevocably scarred for life. Just 20 meters ahead of me, at eye level, was one of the most horrific sights I’ve ever seen. At the side of the Jacuzzi was a middle-aged, fat Chinese man, getting exfoliated by a small, prepubescent Chinese boy, perhaps 12 or 13 years old. What was particularly gruesome was the fact that the man was lying on his back, with the soles of his feet facing me, legs shoulder width apart, while the boy was exfoliating his perineum.

“Are you okay, Richard?” asked Michael in response to my look of open-mouth horror.

“No. I’m not okay. I don’t want to play anymore. I want to go home”.

The contorted look of determination on the boy’s face, while he scoured away at that man’s crotch, as if he was a squire scraping the rust from a suit of armour’s cod-piece, will haunt my dreams for many years to come. Just as I was gulping down a mouthful of vomit, a member of staff came over to us and asked if we wanted a ‘beautiful girl massage’, for five times the price of a normal one.

After such a vision, though, it was highly unlikely that I was about to be lured into soliciting any sexual services that may have been on offer. If it was my joint, I would certainly have moved the gooch scraping kid into a back room somewhere, out of sight of the other customers. It seemed to ruin any kind of erotic vibe, which would have been difficult to establish anyway, considering I was sitting in a Jacuzzi opposite a naked, lanky version of Willow.

Reading my thoughts, Michael explained that we were only after a ‘normal massage’, not a ‘beautiful girl’ massage. Eventually the man led us upstairs and my spirits were brightened somewhat when they forced Michael to wear a strange pair of see-through plastic underwear, whereas I wasn’t required to do so. His look of indignation was priceless.

While he was putting on his little plastic pants, one of the little kids started drying Michael’s back with a towel.

“Cheers Rich,” said Michael, thinking it was me

“That’s not me Michael. That’s the gooch scraper.”

“I thought it was a bit weird that you were drying my back.”

“Yeah well, to be fair, there’s very little chance that I’d be dabbing your back dry while you’re slipping into a see-through plastic thong”

“Why is the gooch scraping kid still drying my back? He’s been doing it for five minutes now. It’s been dry for ages”

“Yeah, it looks pretty red. Plus he’s using the same towel as the one he used to dry that bloke’s rotten crotch. That’s blatantly his gooch towel. I can tell because it looks and smells like he’s just rubbed a wet skunk with it”

“I want to go home now”

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