No, not the instructions for my latest root veg recipe, but an account of my experience of the onsen that I went to in Japan. Onsen are hot springs that naturally occur there due to it being a volcanically active country, and high up on my bucket list! I went to three places, all completely different and all incredible in their own way.

The lap of luxury

I checked in to a hotel in Gora that invited me ‘to enjoy a luxurious stay in an authentic Japanese space that is unlike anything you have experienced before’, and that much was certainly true. The hotel with extensive gardens displayed many photographs of famous past guests and dignitaries and was indeed the lap of luxury. For 1962. That aside I found my way to the hot spring bath that I had come for.

If you’re not familiar with this tradition of bathing, there are several rules and a strict etiquette that must be followed. You begin by stripping off (absolutely no swim wear allowed, you leave that at the door along with any remaining trace of modesty) and washing yourself from head to foot with soap. If you have a tattoo, you pray that the onsen police aren’t around as they are strictly forbidden too because they are associated with the Japanese mafia. I don’t, so didn’t have to worry.

The onsen at this hotel was in the forest grounds, and as my dips were always early morning, I was ready for a bit of heat by the time I had done the full body scrub in the fresh mountain air! I realised afterwards that this part of the process also removed any mosquito repellent, and the critters were delighted to get their breakfast before I’d had mine. I didn’t begrudge them too much; the hot spring water being piped up from over 1000 metres below me was divine. And very hot!

It didn’t take long before I wanted to cool off on the ancient natural flooring that surrounded the pool. And then want to get straight back in again. It was liberating to be so obviously in the forest, in the water, naked and with just the sound of nature for company. I was always the only person there, and as this was my first experience of it all I was quite glad about that. It was peaceful, rejuvenating and relaxing all at once.

The executive basement

Back in the city and I was staying in a totally contrasting place, which was essentially a skyscraper but had two floors that piqued my interest. One was a roof terrace with an incredible view of Hiroshima, and one was the basement: their very own version of an onsen. I was not expecting that! Keen to try this out I scuttled down to the very modern female changing rooms. (All onsen are strictly segregated and clearly marked even without any English!)

Already this was so different. Apart from being indoors, there were fluffy towels, hairdryers, lockers, and mirrors (I was less keen on this last feature!) and was incredibly comfortable. I made my way into the baths themselves and was met with a sea of black marble and gold faucets. I did the obligatory scrub down in a cubicle that afforded zero privacy and did my best not to make eye contact with anyone else.

The water was still piped up from deep below, and still very hot. I noticed that all the other women looked oriental and possibly businesswomen, but some had children with them. Do not ask me how I concluded anyone’s status whilst we were all simply enjoying the hot water, but I did speak to one lady afterwards who was traveling for work, and she seemed to fit the general profile.

It was great to enjoy the steam and spring water, but I missed the sound of the birds and a million insects even if some of those had been snacking on my shoulders. The sleek fittings were designed for comfort, but somehow lacked personality. The absence of a fresh breeze was obvious, replaced by air conditioning. The freedom of the forest was lost to locker numbers and complimentary make up remover.

Little did I know what I had in store at my next destination! Go to the next blog to find out about my encounter at the municipal onsen..

Scrubbed, steamed, and soaked (Part 1)