Burmese massage

After a bone jarring train ride, a bout of something like the flu, and multiple other mini-traumas, I decided to treat myself to a Burmese massage. I figured it would be something like a Thai massage - a bit violent but effective. This was... different. She started off by bashing me on the legs and punching the soles of my feet. Then she stood up and tromped on my thighs, hips and shins. She sat behind me, bent me backwars by pulling on an arm and leg, and then kicked me (really, really hard) repeatedly in the buttocks with both feet. She moved on upwards, smacking me all over my head with her hands, then plunging her fingers deep into my ears and pulling them out abruptly (pop!)... repeatedly, of course. I really didn't know if Burmese massage was an actual therapy, or if this was some sort of Burmese humour (which I would salute for its complexity). At the end she rubbed a not-entirely-pleasant-smelling oil all over my body, then warned me not to wash it off until the next day, or the toxins could not get out. After paying her (K7000) I walked out into the dusty streets and got a fine coating of it all over my body, where it remained until I showered the next morning. I felt no better.