When visiting Denis Island in the Seychelles recently, I signed on for a massage in the villa where my wife and I were staying. About 20 minutes into it, the masseuse, a small woman from Bali, asked if I had any specific aches and pains I'd like for her to work on. I asked her to concentrate on my shoulders and back since I had spent some long hours contorted on airplanes.
The masseuse said: "Give me rupee."
At first I thought something kinda hinky might be going on, but then she clarified that what she wanted was one of the five-rupee coins (about 40 cents) that was on my dresser.
Masseuse: I give you rupee massage. It very good for pain.
Me: Massage away.
She took the coin and, using its edge, began scraping it on my back, with quick slashes that followed the contours of my shoulder blades and rib cage. I would have screamed like a baby had I not been biting the towel on the table and trying to act manly and all.
Masseuse: This might hurt.
Me: No shit.
Masseuse: Most people make noise when I do this.
Me: (scream muffled by towel now all the way into my mouth and halfway down my throat)
This went on for what seemed like about three days but was actually only about another 20 minutes. At which point, the masseuse folded her table, I tipped her and she was gone with the words: "No worry, scars go away after week, maybe two."
For the record, the scars lasted about ten days. And here's the deal: Haven't had aches in my back or shoulders since.