Japan

Posted by Marci on Dec 2, 2010 in | 0 comments

Steam rose from the large public baths in the Associa Takayama hotel. I stood in the locker room, the only Caucasian, armed with the little knowledge I’d gained from the Internet on proper etiquette. I knew to clean myself before entering the waters, and this may seem strange, but I had no idea how. No one spoke English and everyone was naked so I didn’t want to stare in order to follow their lead.

I thought about leaving as the attendant handed me a towel no bigger than a face cloth and pointed for me to undress. I stared at the steaming baths that overlooked the Japanese Alps. I undressed, held my arm over my breasts and the cloth to my private area, and walked into the bathing room.

Women sat on short wooden stools in small booths using their washcloths to vigorously rub their skin with soap and water from a bucket on the floor. I sat in the furthest booth, away from the chattering women, and looked at the small mirror in front of me, discomfort written on my face. I don’t notice my American culture as I travel through foreign countries, but at the moment the prudish lifestyle was apparent in my expression.

I grabbed the hand-held shower head and filled my bucket. I lathered and scrubbed my skin till it turned pink. Cleanliness is an important part of Japanese culture. Toilets clean and dry you without need for hands. The train bathrooms are automated so that there isn’t need to touch a surface, not even the doors.

I stood, my skin red, and walked towards the baths. A cool breeze shifted the steam rising from the water. The water felt scalding hot as I took my first step into the pool, but as I sat, the heat melted into my muscles unwinding the tension. I looked out at the Takayama Mountains, and stared at the snow-caps.

I’d fallen in love with Japan: the pristine air; the beautiful scenery; the kind, honorable people. People had gone out of their way to help me with luggage or to guide me to my destination. The food, especially the Hida beef (like Kobe but from the Takayama area) exploded with flavor. Each hotel room, no matter how small, had a deep bathtub to sink into all the way to my neck.

I returned to the baths twice per day while I was in Takayama. Each time the healing minerals made my skin softer and my body more relaxed.

My last day in Japan, I climbed the hill behind my hotel in Hakone. I’d come to Japan to see the elusive Mt. Fuji. I’d taken a boat, a tram, and hiked the route set for tourists to see the great volcano, but only a brief outline of its shape became visible due to the climate the volcano creates. That day, I was rewarded for my early morning hike. As I reached the top of my climb, above the clouds, I could see the perfect white-tipped crown of Mt Fuji’s perfect cone.