Updated: Mar 27, Last weekend, a few of us decided to leave Copenhagen during the break in between classes and take a trip to Prague, Czech Republic. We spent several days there taking advantage of the drastically low prices in comparison to Copenhagen and admiring all the beautiful sights to see; however, by the end, we were exhausted from dodging tourists and walking 10 miles every day-- so we decided to get a massage.
Now, let me preface this story by saying that I had just finished a 3-week class in Denmark about Human Trafficking in a Global Context. We discussed the root causes of trafficking, the kind of people that are trafficked, who the traffickers are, where people are trafficked, and what they are trafficked for.
This, combined with 7 years of experience working with and befriending trafficked and street girls in the Dominican Republic and hearing their stories, you'd think I would immediately know how to react and respond when I come across a situation like the one I'm going to tell you about before breaking down in tears behind closed doors or in the truck, of course.
But this situation was a biiiiit different. Throughout this specific part of the city we were in, there were signs everywhere for "Thai Massages", nail salons, and other services. I was with my roommate, Lily, and our other friend, Alyssa. As we approached the building with the sign directing us inside for a massage, I noticed the sign looked like a slightly more professional google-photo that someone blew up and slapped on a poster-- but then again, all the signs looked like that.
We made our way down the hallway and up the stairs and down another hallway into the lobby of the massage parlor. Everything seemed legit. It was a large purple room with nice chairs, magazines on the tables, and a fish tank. They had a sign on the door the hours said it was open until 10pm-- that's a red flag, what massage parlor is open that late?
