By Bob Krauss
Advertiser Columnist

DONGSHAN, China — The perfect Christmas present for somebody who has everything is a Chinese foot rub. It should be preceded by a celebratory Chinese luncheon.

I had my first foot rub next door to the banquet room where Chinese officials, archaeologists, Nakila Steele of Honolulu and myself celebrated the cultural links between China and Hawai'i dug up near a little village called Big Hat Mountain.

Understand that these archaeologists had been slaving at the dig 18 hours a day for more than a month. The end of the dig and our arrival provided an excuse for Fan and Lin, a pair of modest scientists from the Provincial Fujian Museum, to cut loose.

The techniques for this are twofold: beer and rice wine. Everybody in Hawai'i should be proud of the competence that Barry Rolett, professor of anthropology at the University of Hawai'i, has acquired in these technologies. Here's how it works:

At a Chinese luncheon, you must never drink alone. You wait to be toasted by a friend across the table. To stand or sit is optional. The toaster raises his glass and the toastee does likewise. If the glasses touch, both must chug-a-lug the contents. If they don't touch, you can just sip.

The second rule is that you can't fill your own glass — or leave it empty. You are at the mercy of those jovial fellows who have been digging their hearts out and want to celebrate. Fortunately, Chinese respect age. I was considered an elder. They filled my glass only a finger at a time.

Rolett, on the other hand, tossed away brimming glassful after glassful. When museum director Chan Liqun politely suggested a foot rub after lunch, Rolett pronounced this a splendid idea. Scholarly TianLong Jiao of Harvard assured us it was an old Chinese custom. Steele and I exchanged doubtful glances, but were swept along the tide of good fellowship up a flight of steps.

Some young girls were sitting around playing cards. Six of us stretched out three abreast on armchairs and took off our shoes.

A charming young lady named Sia Luo, who couldn't have been a day over 16, put my feet in a hot bath. Then she dried them off, took out a straight-edge razor and began to shave between my toes.

Nobody has ever told me that my feet need shaving. It's supposed to be soothing, I guess.

Steele, the museum director and Rolett appeared to be asleep. But the soles of my feet are ticklish. Every time Sia stroked down, my feet bounced like pogo sticks. This set her off into gales of giggles. An elder who can't keep his feet still struck her funny bone.

This went on for some time. There is no way to be dignified when your feet are ticklish. Fortunately, a foot massage followed. Unfortunately, for a slip of a girl, Sia had a grip like a blacksmith. Then she dug in with her knuckles, a form of torture not widely known.

After it was over, my friends said their feet felt great.

I reserve judgment. To try it yourself, ask to have a Zu Yu.

Reach Bob Krauss at 525-8073.