Apocalypse Tomorrow? Understanding ‘vulnerable’ children, with help from Martin Sheen, Robert Duvall, Bowie & Annie Lennox, Squeeze and a Thai massage In Chiang Mai!
Date posted: Friday 28th November 2014
The Festival of Loy Krathong
I’m sitting in my hotel room in Chiang Mai, Thailand and feeling very sorry for myself. I’m not looking for sympathy but, so they say, a problem shared is a problem halved. I know what you’re thinking: some guys have all the luck. It’s November, it’s 35 degrees outside, he’s in Thailand. So why is he feeling blue? Actually I’m feeling black and blue. It all started 3 days ago when I set off on a long haul flight to Thailand via Shanghai. I know there’s no peace for the wicked, but I now accept that there’s no sleep for Little Mikey Jones on long haul flights, and for at least two days afterwards, while my physical self and my mental self come to terms with the time change. I’m not out here to have fun: I’m leading a two-day training course about how to support children who I describe as ‘vulnerable’, with practical ways to promote conversation, their confidence about talking and learning in busy settings. I’d tried everything I could to get at least a few winks before I landed. The director’s cut of Godfather 3 wasn’t on offer, or even Barry Lyndon, so in desperation I tried listening to Harvest. But 90 minutes of Neil Young’s turgid wailing failed to induce even the vaguest hint of drowsiness.
I live in hope that I will sleep as soon as I reach my hotel, but being a light sleeper and the sensitive little fellow that I am, I need the air con off, the window open and absolute silence.
I’ve had the window open, but Thailand’s answer to Notting Hill Carnival is going on in the street right below my hotel. Actually the festival of Loy Krathong proper ended at midnight, when the parade of illuminated floats, thousands of people lighting thousands more paper lanterns and sending them high into the sky, causing serious danger to aviation and setting a factory on fire, came to an abrupt halt.
I don’t know what the Thai for ‘yobbo’ is. But there is a gang of them setting fireworks off right beneath my hotel window. I shouldn’t have shouted at the ebullient youths earlier. They may not have understood, ‘Do you mind going away? Some us have a two day-course on vulnerable children to run single-handed tomorrow!’ But they must have sensed ‘grumpy middle-aged idiot who needs winding up’, because now they are lobbing South East Asia’s loudest firecrackers onto my balcony. I can’t wear ear plugs, because I won’t hear my alarm clock, so I’ve just tried doing a bit of Tai Chi, just like Martin Sheen as Captain Willard in the opening scenes of Apocalypse Now. But I toppled over and my hand landed in the wastepaper bin, where earlier I’d discarded the sharp metal lid from my tin of complimentary cashew nuts. Now I think I’ll need a few stitches if I can’t staunch the flow of blood.
Chiang Mai. ****
Don’t get me wrong. I love Thailand. And I know just how lucky I am to be invited to lead training out here, but I just need to sleep, or I can’t guarantee that tomorrow’s course will make any sense to anyone – including myself!
When I find myself in times of trouble, physiotherapist and Buddhist friend Anni Sarif comes to me: speaking words of wisdom like, ‘Have a foot massage. It will relieve all your stress and can be a deeply spiritual experience as well. Just be careful not to travel a long distance immediately afterwards, because certain pressure points on the soles of your feet are linked to your bladder and you may find yourself needing to pee a lot.’
Under pressure: Press 24 to connect with the bladder
In my hotel there is traditional Thai massage on offer, so earlier this evening I decided to see if a relaxing session would relieve my stress and help me break the vicious cycle of sleep deprivation that I’m in.
I’d never had a massage before, so as I went downstairs to the spa. I had images in my mind of beautiful naked people lying on mattresses being gently stroked by equally beautiful masseurs. There might even have been some little candles floating in a dish of water for me to contemplate while all my troubles floated off to a land far away. I had visions of some warm stones being put on my back, though I couldn’t for the life of me see what good they would do.
Every body must get stoned
So there I was in a beautiful wood-panelled room with a mattress and pillow on the floor. I started to strip off. ‘No, no!’ exclaimed my rather worried-looking masseuse, ‘You put on these,’ as she handed me a very tasteful looking white cotton shirt and an ill-fitting pair of pyjama bottoms. ‘I go outside. You put on. When you ready, you call. I come in. We start. OK?’ That was OK by me, until I tried to put on the trousers. I’m a Marks and Spencer size 30 waist (as long as it is elasticated to allow for ‘give’.) But these trousers were designed for a sumo wrestler. They were so wide that they kept falling down. I needed help, so called out, ‘I’ve finished!’ I was intending to sound highly masculine, but what emerged from my mouth sounded for all the world like what four- year old boys yell out to mummy when they have been left sitting on the loo and need help with the paperwork. As my masseuse came in, my trousers fell to my ankles. ‘No, no! You not like this. I help you.’ This involved me taking my troosers off and her putting them back on the right way round, so the long cords I had ignored could be fastened tightly round my middle.
As I lay down on the very firm mattress, I noticed what looked like a rice cooker sitting on the floor. I say ‘noticed’, but by this time I had taken my glasses off and could only ‘notice’ anything that was right in front of my face. Everything else was like an Impressionist painting. This was going to be a 90-minute session, so I guessed the cooker contained a half-time snack, much like the legendary ‘Growler’ pork pies you could get at Bolton Wanderers in the mid-70s. My masseuse (who remained anonymous, but in my mind had become ‘Anni’) lifted the lid and I squinted at what seemed to be five little steamed puddings bobbing around in the boiling water. I enquired if the dumplings/Christmas puddings had vegetarian suet in them, but Anni just laughed. ‘Not snack! That for hot Thai herbal massage!’ I’m quite intuitive when it comes to interpreting non-verbal signals from people’s facial expressions, and Anni’s was definitely saying, ‘We’ve got a right one here.’
’You want strong massage or gentle massage?’ I didn’t want to seem like a wuss, so obviously plumped for the strong option. After all, how strong can a small Thai woman’s hands be?
Next question: ‘You full body?’ Well I’d just had a rather delicious three course meal in the hotel restaurant, so of course I said,’Yes’. Then all hell was let loose on my unsuspecting body.
Thai massage or Hulk Hogan’s best moves?
For the next what seemed like an eternity I was pinched, pummelled and pulled into positions that would have made a chiropractor or heavyweight wrestler wince. With every new position Anni would ask, ‘You OK?’ To which I would gasp, ‘I submit!’ which Anni translated as ‘I’m hugely enjoying this, so take it to the limit one more time.’
Then it was time to turn over and lie on my back. I guess Anni didn’t trust me to keep my eyes closed, which would have ruined the mystique and my ability to meditate and get spiritual. So she dropped a cold flannel over my face and everything went dark, apart from a tiny chink of light that emanated from a gap just under my nostrils. Then the foot massage got underway. It was sublime. I began to drift off and was visualising being borne aloft onto a divan, gazing at a night sky with myriads of stars. Then Anni must have pressed number 24, because my dreamscape changed abruptly to a huge waterfall cascading into a giant rock pool and my bladder felt like it was going to burst. Another client must have had the same experience, because I heard her padding to the loo next to our room and noisily relieve herself and flush the toilet. How did I know it was a ‘she’? A split second after the flush was pulled I heard a decidedly female scream and an Australian voice yell, ‘Not another soddin’ power cut! I’ve just slipped over and I think I’ve bust me ankle!’
Anni rushed out and left me lying on my back. I whipped off my flannel but couldn’t see a thing. Suddenly I heard the sound of footsteps approaching my room so hurriedly re-applied my flannel and acted as if I hadn’t moved. I had craftily replaced the cloth so that when the electricity eventually came back on I could see a bit more of what was being done to me. What I did see was Anni re-entering the room with a lit candle. ‘That’s nice’, I thought, ‘It must be time for me to lie on my tummy and contemplate the candles.’
‘Happy birthday to you,’ sang Anni,’ Sorry. We no electricity. You OK for more massage?’
The brain is a wonderful thing. And it’s amazing how under stress mine forgets all the basic words and phrases I have been practicing in Thai on the plane. I thought I’d said to Anni, ‘Where’s the toilet?’ but she must have heard, ‘No worries. Would you like to please climb on top of me and press my groin with your elbow?’ Because that was next on the menu. From under my flannel I could see Anni bearing down on me with her elbow poised to squash my family jewels. I felt vulnerable and filled with rational fears including: does she know I dress to the left’? It’s dark in here, so what happens if her elbow accidentally connects with my bladder? What’s Thai for ‘stop’?
Bowie and Lennox: Under Pressure
I needn’t have worried. I was in the hands of an expert, who understood fear, vulnerability and the need to induce a sense of relaxation. It all ended happily. The lights came back on and I nipped to the loo. We had a good laugh and got on with a wonderfully relaxing experience. I even got the hot stones and lovely suet pudding treatments. I’m planning to return three more times for various treatments once the course was over, and I anticipate that I’ll be able to relax and sleep like a baby.
Someday this massage is gonna end…
One of my messages is that young children can feel very vulnerable. This can be because they don’t have the language to explain how they feel, which can include high anxiety about not having any control over what is happening to them. This feeling is typically experienced by two-year olds or older children with speech and language delay. Once we appreciate this, and help them develop their speech and language skills, they can relax, begin to enjoy themselves and their communication then develops.
Squeeze
After the course I’m off to Cambodia. I’m hoping to experience some more massage, but will be preparing for the trip with some key words in Khmer, including, gentle, 30 minutes only and no elbows please!
Take care out there.
Michael
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4xoxFrRA2Q
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Ha ha!!!!! You old fox!!! Brilliant, as ever! Thanks for a great article.
Thanks Sally!!
Love from Michael
Great post, Michael. A lovely start to my morning; really enjoyed this and keep up the good work!
Thank you Sonya
My next post will be about Cambodia and will be a
bit more serious.
Best wishes
Michael
Sounds as if you’re having the time of your life. Loved the caption ‘Everybody must get stoned’! I’m in Barnsley. No festivals, no fireworks, no massages, nowt!
Best wishes
But Barnsley has Kate Rusby!
Cheers Simon!
Michael
That, Michael, prompted genuine hilarity.
I hope your course went well.
Thanks John!
The two day course went very well, I’m pleased to say. People who come on my courses about understanding and supporting quiet children are often very quiet and reflective themselves, and we often discuss children’s emotional lives in depth. By the end of the two days I was completely exhausted and high on caffeine, but I became hooked on Thai massages and paid for various types. The one I enjoyed the most was similar to ‘aromatherapy’ that I had experienced in the UK quite a few years ago.
I went on to spend two weeks with my wife in Cambodia. What an extraordinary country: ruined temples, traffic, lovely people and everywhere adults with limbs missing due to landmines. The country is still recovering from the four years when the Khmers Rouges were in power. My next two posts will be about that, so probably a bit more serious than usual.
Thanks for your comments!!
Michael