Sheep's Head Stew, and Other Adventures in Massage

It turns out that anywhere in the world, people get really excited when they find out you're a massage therapist.  From Greek tavernas to Chilean asados, this revelation instantly brings out all sorts of aches and pains, comprehensible through any language barrier.  When Cristian's mom discovered my profession, her face lit up and she asked if I would be willing to work on her sister Rosa, who was suffering from some unknown but painful malady.  I readily agreed, and we decided that it would have to happen the next day, before Rosa left town.

That day also coincided with Mary, my usual translator, working a trip three hours away, leaving Cristian to act as my coordinator and liaison with my new client.  He speaks a little English and I speak even less Spanish; this was sure to be interesting.  We all put on our going out clothes, including little Benjamin, who was bundled along in his carrier.  It was a short walk over to the guest house where Rosa was staying on the other side of town.  There were several folks sitting around the kitchen table when we arrived; Rosa turned out to be the senora with the short hair, accompanied by her husband and a friend.

The two of us headed back to her room so I could work on her on the bed.  It was a far cry from the last massage I did, on the rooftop of a hotel in Crete overlooking the Aegean Sea.  I knew enough Spanish to make sure she was comfortable and to ask whether she felt better or worse.  During the half hour I worked on her, switching her from one side to the other, people kept popping their heads in to see how things were going, and Rosa would yell out to her husband to put the potatoes on or set the table.  It was hardly the zen-like experience that some people expect, but it seemed to help as she was able to climb off the bed a little easier and was soon puttering around the kitchen.

But my work apparently wasn't done.  "Come to the table!", they insisted, gesturing to a table all set for lunch.  Cristian had taken Benjamin into another room for his nap so I did as I was told.  There was the typical Chilean spread of bread and a couple salads, one of lettuce and one of rice with tomato.  After we were seated Rosa brought over the main course: sheep's head stew with whole potatoes.  And what a stew it was: there were multiple sheep skulls neatly cleaved in half, brains and eyeballs and all, along with chunks of vertebrae and other mystery joints and organs.

Being the guest, I got to serve myself first.  All those anatomy classes came in handy as I fished through the pot looking for something I could both identify and stomach.  I ended up with a large vertebrae while the others eagerly helped themselves to the skulls and jawbones, all the best parts.  I learned that spinal column is really chewy, when eyeballs are eaten you have to cut out the cornea and lense first, and after watching eyeballs be eaten my appetite disappears for a full 24 hours.  It was a very educational meal to say the least.  When someone asks for a massage, you never know what you'll learn.