While the rest of Qingdao was busy planting petunias next to highways or carting away truckloads of algae from the beach in preparation for the 29th Olympic Sailing Regatta, we were treating ourselves to having our feet bathed and massaged.

This decision was made by my Chinese friends as casually as if we were going to KFC. But for me, a Westerner, "foot bath" and "foot massage" were awe-inspiring terms which evoked images of Jesus washing his apostles' feet in the Bible - a rite still observed by popes and priests on the Thursday before Easter - or the famous Niptra in Homer's Odyssey, where Odysseus's old nursemaid recognizes her protg from a scar while performing this hospitable rite.

To prepare us for the bath, each of us was seated on a reclining chair and allotted a masseuse. I had the impression that they were operating according to the "ladies first" principle. The three women bathed our feet in hot water which I found almost scalding. The water was redolent with rose, as they had poured in some bath crystals.

Then they started massaging our feet, even scrubbing between the toes before progressing to the calves. My feet are terribly ticklish and while they were being massaged, I was clutching the armrest of my chair, like an airplane passenger during take-off or when having one's gums prodded at the dentist. My masseuse got a kick out of my big feet, so I joked that they should charge according to shoe size.

My masseuse was also curious about where I came from and why I was looking at her so directly when I spoke (I attribute this intensive eye contact to my German habit of looking people in the eye while I talk to them). For the less talkative customers, there was a TV screen running news images or the option of puffing on a cigarette while your feet were being pampered and reflexes tested. Ashtrays and glasses of water were on standby.

Then came the highlight: ba huo guan, or fire cupping. This is part of traditional Chinese medicine and is used to prevent colds from developing or to relieve muscle pain.

In my case, the cupping procedure went as follows: One of the two gentlemen in my company was obliging and lent us a cigarette lighter. Two cups resembling light bulbs were lit and applied to my feet. The vacuum thus created made the cups adhere to my feet like the suction cups of an octopus. I had to sit absolutely still for several minutes. I was brimming with excitement. Contrary to what one might expect, I was not experiencing any discomfort.

Meanwhile, my masseuse took photos of me grinning nervously. Each foot was aglow like the nose of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in the American Christmas song. When the cups were taken off, there was a red ring at the bottom of each foot, which resembled a crop circle. I must admit I did not feel a tremendous physical change, yet I was at ease and one experience the richer for having come to Qingdao.

This episode is what Germans call auf grossem Fuss leben, an idiom which literally means "to live on a big foot", i.e. to live luxuriously. Now hand me a bottle of that famous Qingdao beer!

(China Daily 10/14/2008 page20)