由 admin So, everyone talks about those well-known spas in Shenzhen, right? You hear stories, see pictures. Figured I had to check it out myself. It’s not like I just read about them; I actually went looking, boots on the ground, you could say.
My first try, I aimed for one of those big names you see plastered everywhere. Getting there was already a bit of a mission, traffic being what it is. Walked in, and yeah, it was fancy. Marble floors, soft music, the whole nine yards. But it felt… kinda like a factory? Lots of people, staff rushing about. I got a massage, and it was alright, nothing to write home about, honestly. Paid a pretty penny for it too.
But here’s the thing that really stuck with me. It wasn’t about those shiny, famous places. My buddy, Tom, he’s been in Shenzhen way longer than me, he told me about this small joint. Not famous at all. Hidden in an older part of town, the kind of place you’d walk right past. He swore their old-school tui na was the real deal. So, one weekend, my shoulders were killing me from hunching over the computer, I decided to give it a shot.
Finding it was an adventure. Down a narrow alley, up a creaky flight of stairs. The “spa” was basically two rooms. No fancy décor, just clean and simple. An old guy, Master Liu, ran the place. Barely spoke any English, and my Mandarin is, well, let’s just say it’s a work in progress. We managed with a lot of pointing and grunting.
He got me on the table, and man, his hands were like iron. He found knots I didn’t even know I had. It wasn’t a gentle, relaxing massage like in the glossy brochures. This was serious business. I think I yelped a few times. But afterwards? I felt like a new person. My shoulders were loose, the headache I’d had for days was gone.
I started going back to Master Liu’s pretty regular. It became my little secret spot. Cheaper, no frills, but it worked. I even started picking up a few more Mandarin phrases from him. It was more than just a massage; it was a little piece of old Shenzhen, I guess.
Then, about six months ago, I went for my usual session. The door was locked. A notice was pasted on it. My Mandarin wasn’t good enough to get all the details, but I got the gist. Building was being renovated. New development. Master Liu was gone. Just like that.
I asked around, Tom helped me. Turns out, the landlord hiked the rent, wanted to make way for something more modern, more profitable. Classic Shenzhen story. So much for my “practice” of finding the best local spots. That little place, which was ‘famous’ to me and a few others, just vanished.
So, when people ask me about “Shenzhen’s famous spas,” I think of those big, shiny places, sure. They exist. But my real experience, the one I actually remember and kind of miss, was with Master Liu’s disappearing act. It makes you realize, the really good stuff sometimes isn’t famous at all, and in a city like this, it might not be around for long. You gotta find it, appreciate it, and not be too surprised when it’s gone. That’s my record of it, anyway.