More than two decades ago, my first encounter with reflexology happened in San Juan, Metro Manila, courtesy of my former boss, Jullie Yap Daza. She was a wellness advocate long before “wellness” became a lifestyle buzzword. She told me to visit this Chinese-run reflexology place (now closed) because, as she said, “it’s not hao siao (not funny, stupid).”
When I arrived, a Chinese gentleman handed me a towel. I assumed it was for a sauna.
“For your tears,” he said.
He wasn’t kidding. I was gripping that towel like the Hulk while my feet were pummeled mercilessly. The man told me all my ailments—plural. The pain was excruciating, but I held my composure, sweating and swearing silently. When it was over, he laughed and patted my back. I walked out feeling strangely lighter. Since then, every massage and reflexology session has been judged by that impossible standard.
Nothing ever came close—until recently.
Feeling like crap for the past few weeks, I asked my Chinoy friends to recommend places. I used to go to Malate, but my friends now call it “basically South Korea.” One suggested I try a place in San Juan with a peculiar name: Cinese Foot Spa. No, that’s not a typo—it’s Cinese. The online reviews were sparse and, honestly, not great. But my friend isn’t hao siao, so I trusted him.
The place was neat—clean bathrooms (always a plus), dim lounges, and kitschy panels painted with peonies and sparrows. You could choose between a Filipino or Chinese therapist. I picked the Filipino because the rate was cheaper: P850 for one hour and 20 minutes.
My therapist was a small woman, barely five feet tall. “Hard massage,” I told her.
“Like this?” she asked—and pressed on my instep so hard I nearly saw God.
This 4’11” dynamo folded and kneaded me like dough. “Na-bugbog kayo, sir,” she giggled. (“You got beat up, sir.”) I usually handle pain well, but this time I was begging her to go easy. Afterward, I just sat there for twenty minutes, regaining the will to walk.
I have mobility issues, yet after that session, I felt whole again. Sad, too—because I knew the feeling would vanish by tomorrow. Still, for one night, I had a spring in my step.
I’ve long relied on my Chinoy friends for great food and affordable yet high-quality services, and this place proved them right again. A father and son chatted in Fookien nearby, and I heard Mandarin from the next room—confirmation that Cinese Foot Spa was, indeed, not hao siao.
Cinese Foot Spa is at 17 M. Paterno, San Juan City, Metro Manila.
You may reach Chong Ardivilla at kartunistatonto@gmail.com or chonggo.bsky.social
