The 'Rec-toom' Incident

In a delightful Croatian town (which for reasons which will become obvious must remain nameless for now), there works a delightful massage therapist (who for equally compelling reasons will also remain nameless).  My sister warned me that this massage would not be like those I got back home in Canada.

Thanks for the heads-up...

First of all, the nameless massage therapist (from here on, referred to as 'MT') didn't leave the room while I undressed.

Definitely un-Canadian, that.

I will skim over the massage itself, which also was distinctly un-Canadian.  The story really begins after the financial transaction had been satisfactorily completed.

'MT' asked me a question at that juncture that I have never been asked before.  We had chatted throughout our hour together - me trying valiantly to communicate my tender store of Croatian phrases, she succeeding rather better with her excellent English.

With one notable exception, that is.



"Would you like me to write your massage on your sister's 'rec-toom'?" she asked.

Now, I am very visual.  The image of my sister on a desk revealing the written record of her appointments in that fashion to her insurance carrier was too much for me.

I aimed for casual.  "Sure, that would be fine," I stammered.  I don't know whether you are aware of this fact or not, but speaking casually is difficult when you are biting your tongue that hard.  I choked back the giggle that threatened to erupt.  Somehow, I made it out of her office without laughing in her face.

Once in the freedom of the parking lot, I let loose.  I don't think I have ever laughed that hard for that long without being hospitalized.

Later, I began to wonder if I had imagined the whole thing.  After all, Croatian accents are flavoured differently to those I to which I am accustomed.

I hadn't.

My sister emerged from her massage appointment several days later brimming with a smug satisfaction.

"Well?" I prodded, curious.

"You were right," she shared.  "It wasn't your imagination.  She asked me right at the beginning whether I would like her to write on my 'rec-toom' now or later.  At least she gave you the choice."

We were still giggling hopelessly after some minutes had elapsed.  My brother-in-law threw a bucket of cold water on the 'rec-toom' party.

"Didn't you say anything?" he demanded.  "Now she thinks that she is using the right word, and she'll say it again to some poor English tourist."

Oops.  I hadn't thought of that.

Oh, man.

If you are reading this, 'MT', I am more than willing to discuss it over a cup of Croatian coffee.

I'll bring the Jiffy markers...