Happy National Day! I'd rather not have my ears cleaned.

Today is National Day across the People's Republic of China. It's kind of like the Fourth of July in the U.S. including the fireworks and parades, but minus the BBQs.

To celebrate today's 61st anniversary of the founding of the PRC, I enjoyed my first Chinese massage. Conveniently, there is a spa located directly below our apartment building. I have been interested in checking it out ever since we moved in, so Z and I went down to it, and he dropped me off like it was the first day of school. It's just like me to have the first day jitters, and I wondered if I'd have to change clothes like in gym class. Before he disappeared, Z helped me select the "medicine footMassage," which is exactly how it's written in the spa menu, and the manicure from the "Manicure/Scaping/Cupping" portion of the menu (typo included).

As much as I love spa treatments, I always, always feel a little awkward about the situation. Do I chat with the masseuse, should I stop myself from falling asleep, do I tell her she's pushing just a little too hard? Now, while you contemplate these same questions, add the element of a language barrier. But like any woman in search of relaxation, I pressed on.

A lovely hostess led me down a long hallway, and I was shown to my own room, where she asked me (in English) whether I preferred green tea or orange juice. I chose the green tea, but I was never to see that woman again with any beverages; this leads me to believe that maybe I was selecting the kind of scent I wanted for my foot soak. Green tea, perhaps? Then, a little woman, no taller than 4' 8" and 95 pounds, came into the room, and motioned for me to change into a pair of pepto-pink silk shorts. OK. I did as I was told. Just like in middle-school gym class, I shimmied into the shorts, keeping my skirt on until the shorts were all the way on, and then I slipped the skirt off over the shorts. You know what I'm talking about, ladies.

Then, over 70 minutes, the little masseuse worked out the knots and tension in my feet, ankles and legs that I didn't even know was there. She said a few words to me every once in a while, and I told her in Mandarin "I don't speak Chinese," but she chatted with me nonetheless. I think she asked me a few times if the pressure was alright, and of course, I told her "OK" since I could not have explained otherwise. She left the room a couple of times to get lotion or a new steaming bowl of who-knows-what in which to place my feet. Each time she left I said "xie xie," because I didn't know the massage was not finished.

After my feet were properly pummeled - in a good way - I thought it was time for my manicure. I stayed seated in my pepto-pink shorts until the next woman came to the door. I don't know what prompted me to ask, but I asked if she was to do my manicure, and she replied, "ear." Hmmm. A dilemma I did not foresee. Had I chosen to have my ears cleaned instead of a manicure? We looked over the spa menu together, I pointed to "manicure" while simultaneously pointing to my own unkempt hands. She, once again, pointed to her own ear and then mine and repeated the word, "ear" in English. I kindly declined the offer, and apologized for my mistake by saying in Chinese, "not yes" and then in English "ear." It sounded like this: "Bu shi ." She left the room and I quickly changed back into my skirt without having to be tricky about it.

The point is, my feet feel like buttah and that's a good thing.