It Might as Well Be Springs

Today the wife of Mr. Wong, the president of the college, invited C***o, R****i, and me to go back to the Ocean Hot Springs Resort that I had visited a few weeks ago. I thought of trying to get out of it — although I'd enjoyed myself there, I didn't feel compelled to make a return visit — but it's bad form to turn invitations down here, especially ones from such a highly placed source, so I figured I might as well accept.

And as it turned out, I think I had a better time there today than I had on my initial visit. That seems to be true of a lot of things I do here in China: When I repeat something I've already done and I don't have to worry about learning the ropes or committing a cultural blunder, I enjoy myself more. When I pay a return visit to a town, I no longer have to fret about taking the wrong bus or getting off at the wrong stop. And despite the problems with my visa, my second day in Macau, when I began to know my way around, was much more satisfying than my first.

In addition to getting to spend more time in my favorite pools — mostly the herb-infused whirlpools — I also did a couple of things today that I had missed out on the first time around: We sat in a pool where hundreds of tiny fishes nibble at your skin (and I defy even the most skilled wordsmith to adequately describe that sensation!), and we all had half-hour foot massages (afterward I said that my feet felt so good I didn't want to ruin it by using them, and asked if they could arrange for someone to carry me; it's risky to make jokes like that in China, though, because there's a real chance they'll take you seriously and either think you're crazy or rush out to find someone to comply with your demand — or both!).

Afterward we had a quick meal in the resort's restaurant — C***o had to get back to teach an evening class. Once again I left my camera in the loocker room, and it's too bad because we had a couple of dishes from Guangdong province that I hadn't seen before. But I suspect my fellow diners were glad to escape my eccentric habit of photographing my food before eating it.