Grandpa’s been trying to get my brother V and I to go to the public bathhouse with him for as long as I can remember. He asked us last time we were both here back when we were both still in elementary school. He asked us every day this past week too.
Naturally, since we don’t come from a culture where public nudity is the norm, my brother and I aren’t so keen on the idea of stripping butt-naked in front of our grandpa and his octogenarian friends. Grandpa’s tried everything to change our Nos to Yeses: at first he asked us nicely, then he tried urging us and bullying us into agreeing.
I finally caved today, more to shut him up than anything. In the wake of my uncle’s death, I’m aware that this might very well be the last time I get to spend time with my grandpa, so I figured I could lock my dignity and clothes away for a few hours to make him happy. My brother suffered no such lapse of judgement, which prompted Grandpa to lecture him on the importance of being brave.
Grandpa and I headed to the bathhouse this morning after breakfast. I don’t know why Grandpa and his friends choose to go at 7:30 in the morning, but plans are plans and I gave him my word.
After stripping down and putting my clothes in a locker, I fumbled my way upstairs, where I met Grandpa’s friends. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a naked man extend his hand for a handshake as if it were a completely normal occurrence, but I wasn’t ready for the shock.
“I was your aunt’s classmate,” one said, smiling a little too enthusiastically for my liking.
I shook his hand and nodded silently, grateful that I’d left my glasses behind. My eyes blurred out the things I did not want to see, as well as most everything else. Blindness has its perks sometimes.
After showering, dipping in the heated tub, and sweating in the sauna, I got to the part I was actually somewhat looking forward to. I’ve been too scared to go to a Korean spa in my hometown to have my skin scrubbed off, so I thought doing it here would be a cheaper way to try it out.
The scrub was vigorous, thankfully not painfully so. I’m ticklish and not particularly comfortable with being touched, so my thoughts cycled between that’s nice and please don’t go there to oh—you REALLY don’t need to go there. I thought I’d mentally prepared myself prior but old Chinese men are comfortable with nudity in a way I could not even have imagined.
I survived. I can’t stop touching my arms now, my soft skin a consolation prize for suffering through that sweaty bathhouse and all its unclothed chain-smoking men.