Holy Butter

The language barrier, as I have previously implied, can be a hilarious yet humbling experience. The other day in class we were discussing in Chinese films, books, art and other interests. Our teacher asked us if we had seen the movie "Holy Butter." Of course we had never even heard of such a movie so we all did what people do when they're faced with a question they can't answer in a foreign country..... we all stared at her. She kept insisting that this was a very famous American film and she seemed almost annoyed that we had never seen or heard of it. So she did what people do when they don't think foreigners understand what they are saying..... she kept repeating it over and over, "Holy Butter.... Holy Butter.... Holy Butter."
Now it is absolutely unacceptable to laugh or mock your teacher in China, so while all of us bit our lips and looked at our shoes, she became disappointed that her attempt to bond with us over a piece of knowledge that to her was so clearly American, deflated before her eyes.
Eventually, someone decided to lift her spirits by asking questions in an attempt to demystify this "Holy Butter" question.
"Do you mean Harry Potter?" they asked finally.
"Dui! Dui! Dui! (Yes! Yes! Yes!) Holy Butter!" she exclaimed with glee. "You know this film?"
Of course we do. Who in America has not heard of Holy Butter?

Now, as I said, the language barrier can be a funny, light hearted comedy, or it can quickly become a suspense thriller. In my case, the other day it almost became a campy, B grade porno.
Now, prior to taking this trip to China, I heard a constant string of rumors about how cheap massages are here in Beijing. So, I decided I would take advantage of this and go in search of one myself. I found a place in Wu Dao Kou, ten minutes from campus on the main street in a plaza next to a French bakery and a Korean restaurant. I walked in to find a very posh looking lobby with expensive furniture and very clean surfaces. So far so good.
The girls at the desk did not speak a lick of English but they handed me a list of massages and prices in my native tongue. I tried to aske the girl in Chinese what the difference was between a Chinese massage, a Thai massage and a Hong Kong massage. In response I received a string of quickly spoken Chinese phrases, that sounded like gibberish, and a lot of hand movements.
From the pantomiming I deduced that the Chinese was probably the most standard massage so I picked that one. She immediately set about removing my shoes and handing me some hot pink rubber sandals and then I was shuffled off by two other Chinese girls into the locker room area. The space was very nice and very clean and looked much like others I had been in in the states. They had a dry sauna, soaking tubs, showers and lockers. Another girl received me and promptly handed me a key and directed me to my locker. She then, in Chinese ordered me to take all my clothes off. Now, in other instances, I had always been offered a robe and/or a towel. However, this time I was not so fortunate. Again, she ordered me to take off my clothes and then continued to stand right next to me and wait.
I found this situation to be incredibly awkard so I asked her for a towel. The problem was I did not know the Chinese word for towel so she instead just told me, once more, to take all of my clothes off and put them in my locker. Realizing that charades proved a successful option for the girl at the front desk, I decided to motion in my best short hand sign language that I needed a towel. This very small woman was adamant.
To my great relief a guest who spoke a little English came to my rescue and managed to get me my towel. The woman finally left me alone and I got undressed.
However, she quickly came back and told me I needed to shower before my massage and pointed to shower stalls that were open to the whole locker room. So much for modesty. I gave up the battle, along with the towel and dove in for a very humbling shower. When I was finished, I was allowed to have my towel back and then I was given a set of pajama-like garments to put on.
I took one look at these and thought that perhaps I might get one leg in. Humiliated, I had to ask for a larger pair, and received a men's set of pajamas instead. I squeezed into them and then was shuffled off once again through another door. This is where I began to wonder what I had gotten myself into.
Walking through this door was like walking through to an alternate universe in the twilight zone. On the other side of the door lie a very dimly lit, smoky bar lounge with plush chaise lounge chairs and old carpet. At this point I was received by a young Chinese man who guided me passed the bar, circa 1970, and down a dark hall with many doors. He took me to my room where I was presented with a double bed, two plush chaise lounges, a television, and a nightstand with an ashtray on it and a sign that said "Please register for overnights."
He left me and I sat on the edge of one of the chairs, practically in a fetal position, my heart racing. Is this what I ordered??? After a moment of speculation about the fine mess I'd found myself in, I ran back to the locker room and nervously tried to ask the woman what kind of massage I was to be getting. Of course she didn't know what I was saying. Thankfully, the lady who spoke English once again saved me and assured me that I was only getting a massage, nothing extra, and that a woman, not a man would come to my room. She laughed at me and sent me back to my room.
When I got there, a young Chinese girl stood in my room wearing a tennis skirt, a sailor shirt and spike heels. I was not convinced this was above bar but I decided to take it minute by minute.
She told me to lie on the bed, which I did, more tense than I was when I walked in. She began to give me a very normal massage so I closed my eyes and told myself the minute she touches one of my fun parts, I'll just get up and go.
This story has a happy ending..... no pun intended. Aside from the fact that she kept jumping around on the bed to get better angles and that she stood up and held on to bars above the bed so she could walk on my back, this ended up being a very normal, and very good massage. No funny business, but I couldn't help but feel the whole time I was there that had I asked for more, I would have gotten it.
In the end, I went back to my locker, got dressed and paid. I walked back to campus thinking about this recent turn of events and thought to myself so much for Holy Butter...... more like Holy Shit.