One of the pleasures of going to Asia, at least for me, is the massages. Everywhere from Thailand to Vietnam to Cambodia, the massages are excellent, cheap, and widely available. From restorative foot massages after a long day of hiking, to full body deep tissue rubdown that leaves me in an “out-of-body” experience state, I am always on the hunt for the next experience. Victor doesn’t participate but is more than happy to drop me off and hang out at a local café or park, reading guidebooks and writing his daily travel notes.
And here we were in Taiwan, and I was excited to find out what this country had to offer as far as the ancient and traditional spiritual practice of someone kneading my muscles until I relax to the point of falling asleep. The first few days in Taipei were a little overwhelming with all the new sights and experiences, and it wasn’t until we got to Kaohsiung that I started looking around for massage spas. They weren’t hard to find, but certainly weren’t as prevalent as in Southeast Asia. I was reviewing the “spa menu” posted in the window, converting prices into USD, when…
“Ear picking?” I said, “What is ear picking?”
I was immediately intrigued. Once I googled it, I realized that I had heard of this – ear cleaning that is popular in China. I’ve seen some videos of people getting their ears cleaned right on the streets and in parks by vendors carrying around specialized tools. Apparently, the practice is around a thousand years old and originated in the Song dynasty as part of the leisure options offered by tea houses or public bathhouses. This was so strange to me – I could not imagine ear cleaning being done outside of a home, or in an extreme case, at an Ear Nose Throat doctor’s office. But to have one’s ears cleaned on a street? Or even in a spa setting?
I mulled it over and the next day told Victor that I wanted to get my ears picked. It seemed like a truly local experience, and who knows when else I will get this chance? Victor didn’t even blink. After twenty years of traveling with me, nothing can shake this man anymore. He did clarify that there was absolutely no way that he would ever do it, and I shouldn’t waste my breath on convincing him to join me. We agreed that I would go the next evening.
Once at the spa, the simple ear cleaning turned out to be a whole experience. I was shown a menu where there was just a 30-minute ear picking session, and for double the price, an hour-long ear picking, ear candling, facial, scalp massage, and ear washing offering. I figured I might as well try the whole kit and caboodle.
As I was lying on the spa bed, I noticed a whole spread of instruments on the tray at the bedside. There were metal ear picks, tiny scoops with long handles, tongs, feathers, a tuning fork, and all kinds of tools with spiral, looped, feathered, and cotton tips. The whole setup looked intimidating and a bit over the top. Also, feathers and a tuning fork?
That answer came quickly enough. Apparently, it’s not just about cleaning the ear, it’s also about meditation and relaxation. I was tickled with the feather all over my face and ears, and the tuning fork was struck close to my ear and slowly moved away, its sound resonating in my head, vibrating back and forth. It was a nice start, but the process of the actual ear cleaning initially felt incredibly intrusive. It was beyond strange to have someone scraping and scooping and swooshing around my ear for so long. Once I relaxed into it, it became more tolerable, but incredibly ticklish at times. The faces I must have been making when tickling got intolerable were probably hilarious. It was a far less soothing experience than I expected, and far more stimulating.
My favorite part was probably ear candling – not because I expected a lit candle inserted into my ear to remove any wax or toxins, but because of how comforting the sound of the crackling and burning wick carried into my ears. The facial and scalp massage were also nice, and the whole thing finished with my ears being thoroughly washed out with water.
As a side note, before we had cats, I had a little terrier named Brutik, and we had fourteen wonderful years together. The only thing that ever made him genuinely upset at me was cleaning his ears. Terriers are prone to ear infections, and Brutik got them regularly, which meant I had to flush his ears with a solution and apply drops. He hated every second of it. He'd whine pitifully the entire time and then sulk around the condo, his little ears wet and drooping, periodically stopping to shake his head violently to get the water out. It broke my heart every time, but it had to be done.
As I walked out into the cool Kaohsiung evening, my ears wet and ringing, I thought of him immediately. It felt a bit like funny karma, like I'd had this coming for years. I hoped Brutik's spirit was somewhere feeling vindicated that I finally understood exactly how he felt. "It's for your own good, little buddy," I used to tell him. Now I was wondering if this ear-picking procedure had been for my own good at all, or if I'd just paid someone to torture me for no reason.
Many Chinese believe that regular ear cleaning is one of three essential practices for a long and healthy life, along with bathing and foot massage. I won't argue with bathing. I love a good foot massage. But I'm skeptical that ear cleaning is necessary unless a doctor specifically tells you there's a problem. I did spend the next two days feeling like I could hear sounds from miles away, but I haven't noticed any lasting changes to my health or quality of life.
Still, for my own version of a long and healthy life, trying cultural experiences while traveling feels essential. And in that sense, ear picking delivered.
