Massage?

You'd be surprised at the things you find on forward-deployed military bases these days. While searching for a post office I stumbled across a beauty salon - the two young ladies working looked to be vaguely Chinese (later turned out to be from Kyrgyzstan, which does border China) so I thought I'd ask if massage services were offered, and they were.

Seems strange that this type of service would be offered on a relatively small base here at Camp Blackhorse, but given the prevalence of officers, contractors, and higher-ranking staff around here I guess I'm not surprised. It's unfortunate we're banned from leaving base for recreation and they have to bring these services to us, because it'd certainly be more interesting to go out in town and acquire the services we desire for ourselves. But then, though Kabul may be a bit more liberal than the rest of the country, I still can't envision massage parlors being available, and danger can certainly strike at any moment.

If you're going to get a massage, Asia is certainly the place to do it, or have a massage given to you in the Chinese or Thai style. The massages I've had in other parts of the world certainly have been a disappointment in comparison (with the exception of a "Hawaiian-style massage" I had some years ago that had some unique and interesting aspects to make it highly recommendable), though I've never had a Swedish massage as as far as I can recall. Upon walking into the room, I was disappointed to see a table - since I prefer the massage as hard as possible I prefer a mattress on the floor to a table...being closer to the floor means I know she'll get ample leverage and be able to use her knees and feet for maximum pressure. Nevertheless, it was a good massage, with some good work done on my neck and head, though I could have done without the sheet intermittently covering me - all that moving up and down of the sheet while I'm lying in the prone makes me feel like I'm a cadaver lying in a morgue or something. I don't consider myself a vain person, but lying on a massage table nearly completely exposed always makes me wish I spent more time in the gym. I suppose it's because I feel like the condition of my body says a lot about how I've lived and how I live, and thus who I am exactly.

Incidently, I tried to get a massage at Bagram, but the Russian girls there didn't seem to interested in actually doing the deed - they were unfriendly and didn't bother to tell me beforehand that regular underwear would not suffice for an undergarment.