T A B L E_T A L K Moving to a foreign land? Share tips on living abroad in Table Talk's Wanderlust area   Find a world of travel books -- new, rare and out-of-print -- at barnesandnoble.com Search by:  Keyword Title Author     R E C E N T L Y This week in travel Wanderlust's select guide to the top travel-related news stories from around the globe (02/19/99) Don't go near the mountains By Dawn MacKeen From narco-tours to daily chit-chat about kidnappings, a stay in Cali, Colombia, is a plunge into the surreality of a pleasant nation engaged in an endless war (02/18/99) Captive in Kosovo By Susan Milligan A journalist finds herself caught in the middle of the Drenica Mountains with a guerrilla pressing a gun against her head (02/17/99) Losing it in Cambodia By Morrie Erickson Getting a haircut in Cambodia is a good deal -- especially if you like getting more than you bargained for (02/16/99) This week in travel Wanderlust's select guide to the top travel-related news stories from around the globe (02/12/99) Browse the Wanderlust Feature archives Wanderlust's Official Travel Book Partner		WALKING ON SILK | PAGE 1, 2, - - - - - - - - - - I had been skeptical when an American friend suggested I try traditional Thai massage. But he assured me that the school at Wat Po was completely legitimate -- in fact, therapists traveled there from all over the world to learn from masters of the trade. At the time, I was preparing to return to the United States after a year of teaching English, and I was feeling a bit anxious about where my new life would take me. My friend convinced me that a traditional Thai massage would make me feel reborn, as if I had traded in my tired, stressed-out body for a new model. He was right. My first treatment came not from Sompit, but from a tall, gangly masseur with a thin moustache. He led me to a low platform bed, had me lie on my belly and promptly sat on my lower back, clasping his hands under my chin. He started to rock back and forth, and with each roll he stretched my body a little bit farther. Being twisted like a contortionist for an hour and a half felt strange, but at the end I did indeed feel completely relaxed and energized. On my way out, I registered for a two-week course in traditional massage and was assigned Sompit as my teacher. Sompit began each of our sessions with a silently recited mantra. Then we would talk quietly in her hesitating English and my rudimentary Thai about touch being the most basic and natural expression of love and how massage satisfies this fundamental human need. From the beginning, Sompit was understanding and patient with me, the skinny farang (foreigner) with the usual psychological baggage of Western society. On the first day of class, my massage partner was a gorgeous young Thai woman with long black hair tied into a neat bun. When Sompit finished demonstrating how to massage someone in the supine position, she motioned for me to practice on the beautiful stranger I had met just moments before. I flushed, and Sompit recognized my fear of laying even a finger on the woman; a foreign man touching a Thai woman carried unspoken connotations. "You shouldn't worry about touching anyone at Wat Po," Sompit said. "Many Western students feel awkward at first because of different cultural attitudes toward the body. Always remember, massages here are given with love and respect and are intended to benefit both the giver and the receiver." Over the course of our sessions, I was instructed in the Four Divine States of Mind: loving kindness, compassion, vicarious joy and equanimity. The giver of a massage feels compassion for the recipient because he understands the anxieties life can impose. Through the massage, he showers the recipient with loving kindness and releases the recipient from the tensions that tighten the body and cause emotional distress. The recipient, in turn, is relieved of these burdens and experiences joy, but so does the giver, resulting in equanimity for both parties. The secret of the exchange lies in the flow of prana, or life energy, between the two partners along the meridian lines of the body. With her slender fingers, Sompit would trace the meridians and their offshoots across my chest and limbs, showing how they form a crisscross network that distributes blood and prana to bones, muscles and organs. Emotional or mental distress causes the meridians to tense up, blocking the flow of prana. Kneading and pressing on these spots loosens the blockages and restores inner harmony. "Massage is so wonderful because it can be done almost anywhere -- in a park under the shade of a tree, on the beach or inside," Sompit said. But the setting, she stressed, is crucial; it should be clean and quiet, with little chance for interruption. Talking should be minimal, and both parties must be mindful of the present moment. Sompit would focus her concentration by muttering mantras under her breath, her lips moving slowly to the rhythm of her kneading. And she would keep her hands on my body as much as possible, in order to promote a circuit of energy that let the prana flow continuously. After only a week of study with Sompit, I began to see tumultuous Bangkok with new eyes and became more aware of the kind of energy I was sending out to the world. My departure was now only days away and I made an effort to revisit favorite spots in the city and check out neighborhoods I had missed. Downtown, I walked through Lumpini Park before the sun had burned off the morning fog and watched legions of elderly Chinese practicing tai chi chuan, looking like a band of ghosts floating in the mist. I slipped easily through the crowded markets and past the discount haberdasheries of the Indian Quarter with none of my old claustrophobia. I was no longer even intimidated by the pushy salesmen selling gold off of red velvet display cases in the ubiquitous jewelry shops. Everything in Bangkok seemed to have changed, even as it remained the same. During my last session with Sompit, while starring up at the slowly revolving ceiling fans, I suddenly realized I no longer feared returning home. My transition from world traveler to an unknown occupation was simply the next phase in my life, and not worth the time and energy I had spent worrying about it. I chuckled softly, and Sompit responded by tickling the sole of my foot. "It is good to see you smile, Thomas," she said. "You have nice, straight teeth." Sompit said that I had looked tired and thin when I began my massage study, but now I looked younger, happier and had even learned to smile. I laughed again, realizing I felt completely rested and relaxed; I was now ready to go home. Saying our last goodbyes, Sompit escorted me to the exit of Wat Po and handed me the school's certificate of achievement. Then, giving her usual slight bow, she added, "Thomas, it was very nice to meet you. When you go to America, don't be serious all the time. Go gently each day, like you are walking on silk." SALON | Feb. 22, 1999 Thomas Golembeski is a writer who lives on the East Coast. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Become a Salon member. Click here.   _________________________________ For more information: _________________________________