Brazilian Massage

I overslept this morning and missed going on a ride with Paulo and Fabio. I’m a little bummed because we were going to take the ferry over to Guaruja on the other side of the river from Santos. The riding over there is much nicer because there are fewer cars and more rainforest. So, I went for a run on the beach, ate breakfast, then went to the appointment Fabio had made for me to get a massage!!

[Before I start this story, let me ruin the ending for the readers with dirty minds (Loren and Chris Tremonte, I’m looking at you 🙂 ) – it was not that kind of massage.]

I was running late, but I needed to stop at a bank to change money. Fabio said that there were a bunch of banks in front of Patricia’s (the massage therapist) building, so I went in with my bike and asked, but was escorted out by a security guard. Then a woman came out to ask what I needed. she said the nearest place to change money was in the mall, which was 2 blocks down. I was already 5 minutes late, so I went into the building and valet parked my bike. Sort of. The Valet guy handed me a lock and let my lock the bike in the corner. Then I hopped in the elevator.

After explaining to Patricia that I would have to exchange money after and come back she told me to take off my clothing…

This is when I realized I was not wearing underwear beneath my K-Swiss board shorts. I mean – it’s so hot, why would I put on an extra layer? Normally in the US this isn’t an issue because there’s a sheet and they just wrap it around you so that you can maintain some kind of modesty. Here, however, there was no sheet. My options were to get a massage through my shorts or lay bare naked on the table.

I laid down in my shorts, and immediately regretted my decision. My legs are sore, but she ended up spending most of her time working on my back and shoulders. Those were tight too, but my legs were begging for a rub down. Besides, modesty is so not me, and the nudity would have made for a much better story (Loren and Chris would have enjoyed it more anyway).

2009_Brazil 016 After she finished (45 minutes for 40 reais, which is a little less than $20 – would have been 55 if I’d been on time) I walked down the street a few blocks to find the mall. After five blocks I didn’t see anything that looked like a shopping center, so I went into another bank and asked for an exchange. “It is at Canal 3 near the beach.” Now, I was at Canal 5 and they are each about 800 meters apart. They were actually directing me back to my hotel, about 5km away. I turned around, walked back another block, then went into another bank to ask again. “Yes, go to the next street, turn… ah… [points left, i say “left” he confirms] then walk about four blocks, it is on the … ah… left… side and there is another bank like this one at the entrance, and it will say ‘exchange’ in front”

Those are directions I can work with!! After that it was easy, I changed some money and went back to Patricia’s office where Francisco was getting a massage. I just can’t believe how hard it was to find a money exchange!

2009_Brazil 015 While I was walking around I saw the garbage collectors. These guys put the New York City trash collectors to shame. They were running down the street – three at a time running, one driving – and grabbing bags from the sidewalk, then throwing them into the still moving truck. While they ran they yelled for people to move, and those that didn’t understand (read: “Ben”) were simply run over. The whole scene was awesome!

Published by Ben

Ben Collins Professional Triathlete

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  1. pretty much every day at 4:22 i wish i could sleep through my alarm. but that would suck, because then i’d have to swim alone. i will say though, the early mornings are way more fun when you are here, or at least way less sucky.

    your mom found a brazilian woman at the healthy bakery or whatever it’s called. she said she’d translate the portugese articles, except tomorrow is her last day at the bakery, she is going to work at a bar at pioneer square (ew?) that is giving her more hours.

    oh there is this trash truck that drives around greenlake in the early mornings picking up trash from the trash cans along the path. i run faster than the truck, i guess because they stop at every can, everyone gets out, they get the trash, they get back in, drive another 50 feet, etc. i wouldn’t call it a particularly awesome scene, and no one gets run over or yelled at. BORING!

  2. A Brazillian massage? What is there to mis-understand. I just warn you – keep your eyes on the pretty girls with Adams Apples. I’m also shocked you didn’t take the opportunity to be naked in front of one more person you don’t know. SHOCKED. It’s not like they’re Canadian – they’re Brazilian.

    The trash guy in Tiburon runs. He’s a machine but he’s a team of 1.

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