So, my concert with Miyavi took place on Tuesday, Dec 29th. The next morning, I went back to Gunma, had some lunch, grabbed my bag, and headed out for my winter break with Chingyi. I might have mentioned this, but we were going to an onsen, or hot spring, in Oigami, Gunma.
To get there, we took a train half way there and stopped off in a little town in the middle of nowhere inthe mountains. Another ALT that lived in the area, a friend of Chingyi's, vollunteered to drive us the rest of the way to the onsen, so we could save $20
for the bus. John was a really nice guy, very friendly, and he offered immediately to take us to this amazing waterfall nearby that was a little off the beaten path. We readily agreed. The area was really really beautiful, buried in the mountains, not much around. Rural Gunma always reminds me of New Hampshire.
The waterfall turned out to be at the top of its own little mountain. It was a little daunting standing at the bottom and looking up at all the stairs we had to climb. Chingyi and I counted later, as we descended: 200 steps. Getting to the top was more than worth it. The waterfall was above us, shooting out of a narrow opening in the rocks and falling down into the rocks bellow us. Quite a beautiful site, especially since we had it all to ourselves. Behind the waterfall, the inside of the cliff was carved out quite deeply, forming a long overhang. Nestled under the overhang was a little shrine, backed right into the wall of the cliff, with water from the fall splashing mere feet away. Fresh fruit sat on the top step of the shrine, belying its abandoned appearance. It was very cozy and... historic looking, almost familiar, as though we had stepped into an old painting.
Afterward, we continued on and drove into the valley of the onsens. I mean this quite literally. The town, if you could call it that, was occupied mostly by the large rice fields stretched throughout the middle of the valley, onsens (and not much else) bracketing both sides.
(looks much more impressive with the snow!)
Pulling up to our onsen, we were both delighted and surprised. The building itself was quite impressive, occupying at least three stories, with very Japanese architecture, something the neighboring onsens lacked. In addition to looking like a feudal castle, the place had a surprising addition; right out in front, next to the wooden enclosure of the outdoor baths, were marble statues arranged for a sumo wrestling match. Two large men were bent over, facing one another in their diaper-like mawashi, so square (chubby) and perpendicular they looked like bulldogs. It took me a second to realize that was not actually what they were.
(another snow picture... it was only one I got)
After helping us with our bags, John left us and we went inside. We were greeted immediately by a friendly older and younger man, both Japanese. They were very nice, welcoming, but after offering me a smile, deferred to Chingyi for further conversation. This happens everywhere we go; given her asian looks (and my obviously white ones), everyone assumes she is Japanese and I am her oblivious foreign compaion. I usually find this amusing at best, if not more than slightly irritating; I hate being ignored as if I were a child, despite the reality of my lingual liminations. However, the owner and his small staff were so warm, as if we had stepped into their home rather than their business, that I was not insulted. I must say, I could never have taken this trip without Chingyi. Although she is not, as people assume, Japanese, her grasp of the language is much better than mine, and she has the good fortune of being able to read Chinese characters. I followed along as best I could, but Chingyi did all the talking, for which I was most grateful.
Our room was on the main floor. Opening the main door led to a small area for us to leave our slippers -even indoor shoes aren't to be worn on tatami- and step up onto the wood floor of the outer room. There was
a mini fridge, full of wine and beer that we ignored, and our own little bathroom, comprised of a sink and a sliding door that hid a (blissfully) Western toilet. Another sliding door led into the main room. The floor was entirely tatami, with a
low table, a TV, and cushioned, legless chairs on one side and our futons already laid out on the other. The opposite wall was lined with windows that were entirely covered by sliding paper screens. This was a ryokan, a hotel in the traditional Japanese style.
In the single closet we found yukata and bathtowels. Unlike the yukata I had seen and worn before, these, although two layers, were comparitively simple to wear. I think I looked like quite the tourist in mine, but that didn't stop me from chucking my clothes off immediately and putting it on.
Eager to see the baths, we headed downstairs. The womens' and mens' baths were separated. Long, split maroon fabric marked with the hiragana letter "yu", meaning hot water or bath, hid the entrance to the women's side. Inside, maroon carpeting covered two short steps where we left our shoes and moved into a large tile bathroom. Here there were sinks and blow dryers, along with hair ties and other thoughtful accessories for our use. Along the wall were cubbies and wicker baskets for us to put our things. A large window offered a view into the indoor bath. Taking a peak, both Chingyi and I ducked when we saw an older woman already enjoying the hot water, naked as a jay bird. With that reminder burning the back of our eyes, we turned back to the room to get down to the business of our first public strip show. Unlike the Japanese women who summarily stripped off their clothes as easily and perfunctually as putting on a Sunday dress, Chingyi and I required a little mutual coaxing, eye's averted. Once naked, we all but fled into the glass enclosed room of the indoor bath.
Although it was the outdoor bath I was really interested in, the indoor one was quite impressive, if small. The walls were tiled, but the floor was black slate and the bath itself was made from piles of large black stones with a slate bottom, as though someone had simply walled off a natural spring. Along the one tile wall were four mirrors with handheld shower heads attached to faucets near the floor. To one side, near the door, was a pile of neatly stacked plastic stools and bowls, of which we each took one. The one woman we had previously spotted in the bath gave us an amused smile as we entered; I'm afraid our inexperience was perhaps more obvious than we would have liked.
Perfectly aware that we were in full view of anyone and everyone who entered the bath, we sat our naked butts on our stools for a shower, trying to pretend we weren't getting an eyeful of each other. It proved a fruitless effort and we were soon laughing about it. The pre-bath show was certainly an interesting one. An array of products including black soap and a special, regional facial scrub were lined up in front of the mirrors for our use; all part of the spa experience!
Clean and ready for a soak, I walked to the end of the rocky spring and stepped in. Awareness of the unknown woman in the bath was all that kept me from immediately jumping back out again as I felt the temperature. It did not, however, keep me from swearing in English and calling pitifully back to Chingyi, "It's so HOT!" 'Hot' was an understatement. Forcing myself past ankle deep water was a force of sheer will. I stared in horror as Chingyi knelt at the edge of the bath, dipped in her plastic bowl, and splashed the scalding water all over herself. "To acclimate," she told me, non-pulsed. I had no response for that.
Eventually I forced myself to crouch down in the water, but couldn't quite make myself sit and fully submerge. The woman left and the two of us sat for a while, silent in our own thoughts. I couldn't get over how easily Chingyi seemed to adjust, relaxing almost immediately in the water as if it were nothing. I felt like I could barely breath. Distracting myself, I looked around at the bath. Water poured from between the cracks in the piled rocks and filtered through a wooden box into the pool. I stared into the water and noticed the bits of I-don't-know-what floating around me. I asked Chingyi about it, and she pointed to a sign in Japanese attached to the wooden filter box, "That's what that say. 'The stuff you see in the water is part of the natural bath,'" whatever that meant. I tried not to imagine it was human skin.
It didn't take very long for me to reach my limit in the scalding water. I stood and informed Chingyi I was going to inspect the outdoor bath. She stood and followed me. Exiting on the other side of the bath from where we entered, we went outside and were immediately hit by cold air. Although it was nearly freezing outside, my skin was so hot from the water that it actually felt good. Nonetheless, we dashed to the pool and quickly sat down. Constantly cooled by the outdoor air, the water was a much more tolerable temperature. Breathing a sigh of relief, I was finally able to relax.
The outdoor area was much more man-made looking, but still with a natural touch. The whole area was done in smooth cobble stones. The bath itself was a semicircle, divided in the middle by tall wooden fencing that separated the womens' side from the mens'. Above, a detached roof protected us from direct light and later, snowfall.
Throughout our stay, the outdoor bath was where I liked to spend most of my bathing time. I would take my shower, RUN through the scalding water of the indoor bath, and go relax outside until I couldn't take it anymore. Only then would I go inside and soak, my body already properly warmed up. I discovered a seat-like nook in the rocks in one corner of the bath where I could prop my legs and arms out of the water, leaving only my torso submerged and thus not overheat too quickly.
Back in the room, I sank into the softness of my futon. I had not been too thrilled at the prospect of spending my vacation sleeping on a futon, since I have to sleep in my lumpy one at home all the time, but these were so nice, it was almost as good as a real bed. Sliding under the fluffy down comforter, I hardly found reason to get up again. Having everything resting on the floor may be the Japanese way, but to me, in just inspires slothfulness. Considering this was essentially a spa vacation, slothfulness was exactly what we were aiming for. For four days, we did nothing more than sleep, eat, watch TV, play games, read, bath, and occasionally go outside. It was heavenly and entirely what I needed.
Every morning we were treated to a traditional Japanese breakfast provided by the ryokan. Wrapped in our yukata, we would make our way across the main floor to tatami rooms on the opposite side of the ryokan from our room. The interior of the entirely building was decorated with an astounding amount of sumo memorabilia, from small figures, models, paintings and pictures, to authentic handprinted and signed prints from the sumo wrestlers themselves. There were even pictures of the ryokan's owner standing with several of his idols. Inside the tatami serving rooms was no different. Not one decoration lining the walls did not in some way relate to sumo. It was bizarre as it was funny.
The morning meals were an experience of their own, one we looked forward to every morning. We were led inside a tatami room where short screens partitioned off personalized numbers of floor height tables, each with their own room number. Each table was set individually with a large wicker ring and almost a dozen small bowls and plates, each holding something different. The food was delicious,never too fishy or strong, though there were always a coupleitems everyday that neither of us could bare to eat. Natto was one. A Japanese food that, for good reason, has never really made it big in the States, natto is made of fermented soybeans.Extremely odorous and sticky, it is a food that is said to be very healthybut both smells and tastes like vomit. Only the most dedicated and enterprising of foreigners learn to eat it. Not even some Japanese can stomach the stuff.
Thus past four blissful days in the mountains of Gunma. The first day after we arrived it snowed and continued to do so for the entirety of our trip. It was really unspeakably beautiful, and we threw open our paper window shades everyday so that we could gaze upon it. We did go outside a couple times, taking a long walk around the entire valley and confirming the completely lack of life during this particular holiday. We didn't mind. The isolation was just what we needed.
On January 3rd, we returned to Ota. I began missing the baths before we even left. I think, if I had a car, I would go to the cheap, nearby onsen nearly every weekend, just to relax and soak up some heat for the week. Ah, if only.
Cheers,
bath time Baer
For lunch, we went to the lodge at the bottom of the mountain, where, for an hour, they were offering free Japanese soup. We had a better offer than that, even. Yuki's aunt worked at the soup booth. She brought us each a bowl of soup, a delicious mochi "dumpling" soup, ohagi (rice balls covered in red bean paste), plus two different bowls of vegetables, a chocolate covered
bun, and some potato-tofu to share. It was all complements of her aunt! Their generosity was overwhelming.
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