Ptuj Massage

It’s pronounced P-too-ee and it’s in northern Slovenia, our overnight stop on the way to Austria. Brett said when he was in the tourist information office, he told them he wanted to go to the town with the craziest sounding name. A big spit.
Actually, the brochures enticed him. Slovenia is also known for their therapeutic thermal spas. Bubbling hot water heated from the Earth to soothe and strengthen body and soul. An hour massage in Ptuj is only 28 Euros- six pools, water slides- sign us up! Brett was bragging as if he came home with a dozen roses- next stop, the thermal baths. He showed off the aqua blue brochure, graciously offering the first massage appointment to me. No, I’d rather be second so I can relax without children afterwards.
We don’t often pay for a professional massage. We own a massage table and 2 medical backgrounds have to be good for something. Our kids love it too. We buy special oils and have a rock heater and electric blankets, music, etc. Spa at home. So...a professional massage is a real treat we both love.
I took the kids to the pool and Brett went for the first hour. He found me just before my appointment time. “Just to let you know, you might want to lower your expectations a lot. It’s pretty no nonsense.”
I’m in my swimsuit and I have to move down the hall dripping wet past 80 or so Slovenian schoolchildren, and I don’t have my pocket Slovenian to help with “Excuse me, I’m sorry.”
Standing in front of the sign that says “Don’t knock” I start to shiver. Lower my expectations?
The masseuse opens the door and I enter. I’ve seen VA hospital rooms with more ambiance. It’s a medical clinic- white tiled walls, fluorescent lighting and a small radio tuned to Slovenain talk. As I strip, I look to the large picture window, covered from the other side with a heavy drape. I’m hoping there isn’t a wicked game of Slovenian peek-a-boo waiting on the other side.
No English here, she has me lie down and squirts the oil over my shivering flesh. Rub it in. DS8 has a better sense of relaxation than this woman. She is kind, smiley and thorough, but not relaxing. The Slovenian talk radio chatters on with my teeth. After the legs, she moves over to a large dispenser on the wall and pulls through a wad of big toilet paper. She wipes me off in big swipes. I actually look at the clock and am dismayed to find only 10 minutes has passed.
Visions of heated white robes and pan flute fade away as she starts in on the arms and back. Always the same routine- oil, rub, swipe. She does make her way to my Achilles heel, which happens to be my neck. It’s helpful and for 28 Euros, almost worth it. I’m thinking back to our welcome papers, “We invite your feedback.” I could write a book. One final swipe and I’m good to go.
Brett asks- “What did you think? A little like being in the hospital? And the television blaring?”
Television? Guess I was lucky.