I've done my best to provide reliable ADVICE FOR TRAVELLERS. All the rest (TALES) is for fun. CLICK above for titles.



Thursday, May 20, 2010

Other jobs (mud wrestling)

   

In an earlier blog (jobs/extraordinary) I scribed two sorts of female dance acts. One is performed with clothes on and the other ends with clothes off. Mud wrestling provides a halfway house between the two. Strictly speaking it's not a job. Mud wrestling is a sport and that's an important distinction.





I was introduced to it by some young ladies who were staying at my hostel. They said that bouts took place in a local beer garden and were open to female contestants. One night they'd gone along to watch and were recruited as part of the regular act.

They spoke enthusiastically about their new sport, explaining that prizes were awarded to victor and vanquished alike and came in the form of medallions which could be exchanged for cash at the bar. No work visa was required and there was no need to disclose anything to the tax office.

From the girls' general appearance, I'd say that preference was given to buxom girls in floppy tops. One night they invited me along to see them perform.

I arrived at the appointed hour and was shown to a table beneath a palm tree. The girls brought me a beer and I watched as a women in leotards tipped dark powder into a large plastic paddling pool. The powder came in sacks with writing saying it was good for the complexion and removed wrinkles.


She smoothed the powder, sprinkled it with water and sloshed it around until it had the constituency of wet toothpaste. By then a large crowd had gathered and more people were streaming in from the street. I was hugely impressed. The hotel had gone bust a few months earlier through lack of patronage. The new owners certainly knew how to get things going.


“Ladies! Your attention, please …”


The leotard lady picked up a microphone and announced that a bath of health-giving organic balm had been prepared for the night’s contest.


“The challenger is Helenna from Helsinki!”


She pointed to one of my girls: a big lass, called Joanne, who came from Perth.


“She will be fighting last night’s champion … Priscilla from Paris.”


Neither girl was using her real name. That’s important in this sort of contest. The aim is to entertain and you shouldn’t care a sod whether you win or loose. If you do loose, you can tell yourself it wasn’t you but some chump you were impersonating at the time.


Another reason is unwanted fame. In this age of rapid communication, images flash around on mobile phones. That could cause unnecessary angst when you arrive back home. The mud is there to provide cover. Don’t give the game away telling people who you really are.


“Ladies! Prepare to show us what you’re made of …”


The crowd went mad with excitement as the girls took up positions on either side of the pool. They crouched like sumo wrestlers then launched themselves at one another. Bodies clashed and mud spattered. They squirmed, displaying the odd glimpse of nipple but not much else. The bout ended when Priscilla wrapped Helenna’s T-shirt round her neck and forced her to concede defeat.


After that everything went smoothly. More of my girls presented themselves and were joined by girls from the crowd. Some were rejected as unsuitable. Others dropped out when they discovered they had to remove their bras. The contest ended and prizes were duly awarded to all contestants.


As far as I know, a good time was had by all. But that didn’t stop the local women’s rights organisation from protesting. One well-known lady picketed the hotel to the embarrassment of some of its older patrons.

The mud wrestling girls were followed by a bunch of young guys called the beach boys. Their antics were greatly appreciated by the ladies in the audience. Interestingly, the women's rights people didn't complain about the act. 

For a more serious look at holiday jobs go to jobs (ordinary)

No comments:

Post a Comment