Punishing (2, final)

Before the massage begins, Auntie offers a prayer to the spirits. 'Once the massage begins, we do not talk,' she said.

Actually, we did talk. As the room filled with their bright chatter, I tried to forget about being shy, and to focus on getting through what was an extremely painful ordeal. I did not have to do much, except keep my hands by my side, and breathe deeply.

In fact, breathing deeply is the body's only defence when it comes to meeting such extreme pain. For Thai massage is not a gentle art. Auntie pressed down on my pressure points with what felt like her entire body weight, hovering over my body as if looking for its next weakest point.

She wears a face like a lemon, is pint-sized but tough. 'You have to be tough to do this job, and I keep myself looking good by taking Thai herbs every day,' she said proudly. 'Look at this skin,' she said, pointing to her face. 'You wouldn't know I was 50, would you?'

However, tough as she was, this farang body with its large mass and long limbs presented her with problems.

'Breathe deeply, dear,' she said, as she bore down into my chest, under my arms, my wrist joints, under the shoulder blades. When she had pressed down for as long as she could bear, she twisted her fingers into my skin, to drive the knot of tension out.

'I said, breathe deeply!'

Oops - lost concentration there for a moment. I could see sparks in front of my eyes and was trying not to faint. The kathoey stroked my hands softly to stop me clenching them in pain.

After an hour of this solid workout, it was almost a relief to get back to their favourite topic of conversation - my marital status.

'Isn't it just simpler to get married?' auntie asked. 'And why don't you have children? You're so old, you've probably left it too late. You'll be bringing up a child as old man,' she said, pulling an old and wrinkled face.

Auntie speaks bluntly, but in an entertaining way. Her acid comments are punctuated with noisy burps - evidence of a possible gastric problem which massage therapy was presumably unable to fix.

'Your back is covered in lumps - barp! - what have you been doing to youself? she asked.

I went back for more punishing treatment the next day, when we were joined by another middle-aged massage instructor.

The first day, I had the place to myself, but on the second day I shared the massage room with two women customers who dropped in for a 90-minute foot massage. One woman took three phone calls while she was having her feet done, so we got to hear about her day without even having to ask.

While auntie worked away on my back, the kathoey placed herself on the bed next to mine so the visiting male ajarn (teacher) could show her various massage positions. She wanted to show him pressure points on her upper body, but was too shy to disrobe.

Auntie caught me watching. 'Don't go meddling with them!' she said, and smacked my bottom.

My new friends are proud of the traditional Thai massage techniques they have mastered. 'The Japanese stole hundreds of positions from us, which Thais had passed down from centuries ago, and tried to patent them,' Bright Smile said indignantly.

Auntie was just as hot on this topic. 'In your country, would you just sit back and let someone do that? We are taking them to court,' she said.

On the second day, I asked for a more conventional massage - one involving less pain. 'I'll still need to apply weight to your pressure points,' she said.

Not content with receiving pain myself, I decided to pass on the pleasure to others. I ended the same day applying my new knowledge of Thai traditional massage to three or four young friends.

We had gathered at my regular drinking spot on the Thon Buri side. My back was throbbing, and my upper chest bruised. I found it hard to lift my arms, but auntie told me to expect such a reaction.

'I have never had a massage,' said one of my young friends. How could a Thai not have experienced a Thai massage? I took pity, so gave his back and shoulders a rub-down.

Giving a massage is just as exhausting as getting one. However, after two or three hours of solid treatment, ajarn auntie and I do seem to be making progress. The fee on the second day was B700, even more than the first. 'It's higher because I am treating you for a medical condition,' she said.

As I prepared to leave the kathoey tried to sell me a bottle of massage cream, without success. She looked disappointed. 'Next time,' I said.

Bright Smile, meanwhile, was busy applying make-up to her face, before heading off to join a group in a noisy aerobics workout about 20 metres away, next to the market canal.

Auntie told me to avoid computers (the cause of my pain), stay off the chocolate, and stick to herbs instead. 'Fat makes your blood circulation slow, and yours is no good,' she said. 'However, your arm is better than it was. If you had left it, you would now be a cripple,' she said with customary tact.

All the nerves are connected, she said. The pain in my arm had spread to my back, and was even affecting my eyesight.

Auntie herself seems to know that traditional Thai massage can be an ordeal. 'Most Thai men in your condition would not dare come to us. They are in too much pain.' But I took it, without complaint.

My only option, it seems, is further rounds of punishing treatment under the firm hands of my new friends in the House of Pain.

By next week, they might even have asked around in the market, and know a few more details of my private life. Probing that part of their farang customer seems just as much fun.