A few years ago, the cartoon characters on the simpsons visited the stagnant springs Spa. In a style suggestive of hot stone massage, blue-haired Marge was rubbed with a live turtle, which was then tossed into a bin labeled "used turtles."

The episode makes a sardonic nod to the exotic variety of services available at spas. The most arcane references on the menu these days are surely the diverse Asian treatments, which experts believe are derived from traditional Chinese medicine (TCM). Massage has been part of TCM for several thousand years, changing as it spread to Japan, Korea, Vietnam, and Thailand. "The history isn't too clear, but the origin of massage in China was probably in response to painful injuries, whether suffered on the battlefield or other types of mishaps," says Timothy Pan, M.D., a physician at the UCLA Center for East-West Medicine in Santa Monica, California. "Massage is considered to be older than acupuncture--some people believe acupuncture is an advanced expression of massage."

But what we know as traditional Chinese medicine today really only dates back to 1953, according to Stephen Jackowicz, Ph.D., the former dean of the Graduate School of Oriental Medicine at the New York College of Health Professions. "It's a neoclassical movement, severely altered due to the Communists," he explains. "During the republican era in China, from 1911 to 1949, traditional medicine was brushed by the wayside, and when the Communists took over in 1949, it was banned. Then, in 1953, the People's Republic, led by Mao Tse-tung, was looking to sit on the Security Council of the United Nations. The application was opposed by the Taiwanese, led by Chiang Kai-shek, who said that China was a Third World country because it didn't have enough doctors. So Mao declared the 'quacks' to be doctors. But the Communists threw out 98 percent of what was traditionally done. In massage, the techniques have been severely redacted from what they were. Many of them were not written down--there were no DVDs or ways to record them. There's been an attempt to revive what was a semi-lost vision, to redevelop the remnants of the classical traditions. They're all resurrections of ancient methods, and none of them have a straight line to ancient traditions, but the bottom line for clinicians is: Do they work?"

Some spa treatments that sound as if they were imported or at least adapted from the Far East are not Asian at all--Watsu, a term concocted from the words water and shiatsu, is a California creation. In Chinese medicine, there are systems for working on the feet, hands, and ears, all of which have points that correspond to every organ, gland, and body part, but it is actually ancient Egypt that's credited with the genesis of reflexology. There are depictions of foot treatments on tomb walls dating back thousands of years; the techniques later traveled to China, India, and Europe. In this country, just before the Second World War, a physiotherapist named Eunice Ingham developed a theory about the connection between specific zones of the feet and organs in the body; when she wrote a book called Stories the Feet Can Tell, her techniques became known as reflexology--and they're what you're likely to find in a spa today.

What follows is an explanation of 20 authentic Asian therapies you'll probably encounter in spas--certainly in Asia and increasingly in the U.S.--most of which I've tried at least once. Any spa treatment is a pas de deux between therapist and client, but my report should suggest what the experience will feel like.

Amma (also Anma)

Whether in China, where it originated, or Korea, where it was popularized, this form of bodywork sounds, in translation, like a Dr. Seuss character. The word amma means "push-pull," and the technique combines tissue manipulation, acupressure, and friction to balance the dynamic flow of energy known as chi or qi that runs through the meridians (channels) in the body. The therapist pays particular attention to the temperature and condition of the skin, beginning with an analysis of the tongue (its color, shape, cracks) and pulse (its speed, strength, width). There are 28 kinds of pulses described in a book about Chinese medicine called The Web That Has No Weaver, including empty, choppy, slippery, sinking, knotted, floating, leather, and (my favorite) spinning bean. Mine is a little wiry, according to Andrea Shields at the Addison Street Spa in Larchmont, New York. I've donned a spa-provided hospital gown for the treatment, much of which feels as if she's trying to rouse someone who slept through the alarm--there's a whole lot of shaking going on--and when she works on my limbs, she presses with her fingers and uses her palms in a kind of rolling/spreading motion that might be appropriate for making pasta. According to Asian theory, I have an excess of yin (cold), but after a few minutes in Shields's hands, I feel a rush of heat from head to toe--perhaps some blocked yang set free?

Addison Street Spa, 914-833-3223, www.addisonstreetspa.com

Balinese Boreh

A mixture of indigenous herbs and spices was traditionally used in Indonesia as a warm healing pack on the legs of workers who spent all day wading in the rice paddies. Nutmeg, cloves, ginger, pepper, and rice powder were blended into a paste by the ibu, or wise woman, of the village. The ibu of Northampton, Massachusetts, could be Ruth Paradise, whose name is perfect for the Paradise Spa. Since there's not a lot of rice-paddy wading in this college town, the boreh here is modified to focus on the back. The poultice is granular in nature, so there's an exfoliating effect, but the treatment is primarily meant to boost circulation, according to Paradise. "We try to create a beautiful presentation and share a bit about the multicultural background," she says. "It's like armchair travel, only better--it's massage-table travel."

Paradise Spa, 413-586-6843, www.eastheaven.com/paradisespa

Chi Gong (also Chi Kung, Chi Quong, or Qigong)

In Mandarin Chinese, gong (often Anglicized as kung) refers to work or practice. So chi gong is a system of working on the body's energy through exercise, breathing, and mental focus. Chi gong practices are classified as martial, medical, or spiritual; they may be "internal" and gentle (tai chi) or "external" and vigorous (kung fu). Chi gong massage includes a variety of techniques to help the body reach a state of balance. At Graceful Services, a no-frills but pristine day spa in New York City, I complete a medical history (any fever? weak bones? acute trauma?) before the powerful hands of Clarence Gibbons are concentrating on my ming-men, a spot on the lumbar spine just above the coccyx that's considered a vitalizing point because it houses both prenatal and postnatal chi (respectively, what you receive from your ancestral line and what you get from your own habits). Gibbons works on the same pressure points as in acupuncture, sometimes with broad circular motions that generate heat. He also works on the muscle fibers, trying to create length, and he uses oil, which is not traditional. Whatever he's doing feels terrific, applying his fingers, palms, and forearms, sometimes climbing on the table to get better leverage or to provide a particular kind of stretch. He also teaches me a self-help technique for times I feel depleted: massaging the base of the ball of the foot, the first point on the kidney meridian. I'll do it if for no other reason than that I like the name of the spot: bubbling spring.

Graceful Services Spa, 212-593-9904, www.gracefulspa.com

Chi Nei Tsang

According to the Tao, or "the way," an Asian philosophy based on respect for the order and harmony of nature, the abdomen is the center of negative emotions and stress. Knotting up of this area blocks chi, weakens the internal organs, and decreases vitality. The practice of chi nei tsang, which means "working the energy of the organs," is credited to Taoist monks, who wanted to strengthen their bodies for spiritual practices. The massage, concentrated on the abdominal area, is said to clear "congestion" and relieve digestive problems such as bloating and constipation. When I turn myself over to Ettia Tal of Ettia Holistic Day Spa in New York City, her hands press circles into my stomach, but she speaks about all my organs, each of which is associated with one of the "five elements of universal law" (fire, earth, metal, water, and wood) and its corresponding season, color, and level of energy. As Tal presses, she asks me to think of a particular color flooding my organs. It's a relaxing exercise, but her exhortations to "feel the love from your heart" and "tell your liver you love it" just make me giggle in accompaniment to the gurgling of my stomach.

Ettia Holistic Day Spa, 800-795-7109, www.ettia.com

Cupping

Good thing I haven't got a date, or any occasion to see the police, after my cupping session at Cornerstone Healing in Brooklyn. According to one friend, I look like a battered woman with a bad rash. (The latter comes from another modality: See gua-sha.) Co-owner Anne Mok forewarned me that cupping can be "intense," and I'd seen photos of circular bruises on the bare back of Gwyneth Paltrow, a fan of this traditional Chinese therapy that's used to treat anything from muscle spasms to high blood pressure. In modern times, small plastic or glass jars have replaced hollowed-out animal horns as the cups. They're applied to the skin, which is oiled to facilitate sliding, and suction is created with a pump (valve cupping) or with cotton balls soaked in alcohol and then ignited (fire cupping). Either way, the procedure is supposed to increase blood flow to accelerate healing. (In China, the treatment was often prescribed for the inflamed breasts of nursing mothers--a precursor, it's thought, to the modern breast pump.) But nothing has prepared me for the experience of having Mok drag the resistant cups along my back to pull out the "stagnation" (she mentions that the provenance of this treatment must have been leeches) or the sight of my back afterward, stamped with Olympic rings of purplish red. I guess I'm just a quivering mass of stagnation, and although the bruises take a week to heal (a week I spend in hiding), I do have a slightly better range of motion in a sore shoulder.

Cornerstone Healing, 718-254-4075, www.cornerstonehealing.net