Carmen turned me into a purple polka dotted monster!

Yes, this is my back. 49 bruises.

In a small town at the border of Cambodia and Vietnam, Chau Doc, Carmen and I rested for a night. On the way home from dinner, we saw a man lying down just off the street with jars all over his back. Assuming he was performing some sort of un-Godly ritual, I tried to walk faster. Carmen grabbed me and dragged me towards the assault. She had seen such acts performed in China by apothecary but had never tried it. For $3, we could each get half-hour massages with jars. I didn't know what it was, but I decided to go for it.

Carmen laid down on the sidewalk first. A woman lifted her shirt and spread liquid all over her back (I think it was alcohol; Carmen doesn't). What happened next is difficult to describe. It seems that the street apothecary grabbed the fire with a glass jar just before slamming on to Carmen's back, causing an intense suction. She repeated this action over and over until my girlfriend's lovely back was covered with jars sucking her flesh from her bones. The jars caused such an intense vacuum that the skin looked like a billiard ball had risen from inside. Carmen yelped in pain.

Just then, I decided to run back to our hotel to get the camera. I was having such trouble communicating with the motor bike driver or the cyclo driver (cyclo- n. A carriage attached to a bicycle) that I pointed at the cyclo driver to get in back. He jumped into the carriage and I jumped on the bike, peddling furiously to the hotel. He giggled like a little girl the entire way. After I grabbed my camera from the hotel and ran down, I sat in the back of the carriage. He shook his head and pointed to the bike; apparently, he had become fond of riding. Once again, I took hold of the handlebars and peddled us both. A pack of ladies in front of the hotel hooted at the sight. Upon arrival at the street corner where Carmen was getting her massage, I gave the driver-turned-rider $0.12 for the use of his cyclo. He didn't complain. (In all honesty, it probably would have cost the same had he driven; cyclos are cheap).

I laid down on the cement next to Carm and the torture began. Yes, it really hurt. I felt like my flesh was about to be sucked away from my bone. I made it out with no cuts but many bruises.

As I finish writing this blog, three weeks after the massage, I still have noticeable bruises on my back. When Carmen and I were at the beach, I'm sure that tourists frowned at the evidence of the brutal relationship which I tolerated.