Gladys the terminator
I HAVE SIGNED up for spa treatments in a hot springs high in the Andes mountains of Ecuador. The high-pressure jet massage sounds rather interesting, something I have never experienced before.
I am given a paper bikini to wear. It sorts of fits and kind of covers. I walk into what looks like a large shower with glass doors. There are grab bars on the walls and a diagram with pictures showing me where to stand, how to position my hands and feet.
Gladys, my 5-foot tall spa attendant, is wearing elbow length rubber gloves, a long plastic apron and rubber boots. She stands outside the glass door which has a porthole in it. She aims a fire hose at me and turns it on. I am immediately pounded with a strong jet of water. Gladys yells at me in Spanish over the noise of the spray. Turn left, turn right, lift your foot. She blasts the soles of my feet which tickles in a painful way.
I start laughing. It is just this side of unbearable. There is water bouncing off the walls and ceiling and I am drenched from the top of my head to my toes. The paper bikini somehow withstands the onslaught. Gladys is smiling.
I get the distinct impression she is enjoying this.