Scrubbed, steamed and soaked (Part 2)

The municipal onsen

By the time I got to Nara I felt like a bit of a pro when it came to this naked bathing malarkey, and as I neared the end of my holiday in Japan, I wanted to have a final chance to immerse myself in hot spring water. Options were now a bit more limited though, so with just a touch of trepidation I paid my £2 entry fee and entered the women’s section of one of Nara’s many municipal onsen.

The changing area was basic and reminded me of a council swimming pool at home, but with no sign of hair in the drains or rogue used plasters lurking in the gulleys. It’s not possible to see into the onsen through the glass partly because the window is so steamed up and partly because there are several posters warning of the no tattoo rules and some other public notices I couldn’t understand. I was certain that none of them said ‘No gaijins!’ (foreigners) and I as I slid the door open, I was hit by a wall of heat.

Inside is high action; plenty of steam, plenty of bodies. And bodies of every shape, size, and age. Many of the women were obviously elderly, but still agile and hopping in and out of the nine or so different pools with an air of abandon about them. There was a steady chatter; this was their social time as well as their bath time. Traditional homes do not have baths and showers like we do. This was most definitely a local venue for local people.

I sat down on a cheap plastic stool to get on with the business of the whole-body scrub before I could get into the water. I reached for a bowl that looked suitable for dousing but there were things inside. Within about five seconds I had company.

I had made the error of touching someone else’s bowl, and I needed to get my own, as that’s what you put your soap and shampoo in. The woman who imparted this information spoke some very limited English and she was not unfriendly; she just wanted to show me and had got out of her jacuzzi to do so! Maybe she thought I was going to nick her comb.

She got back in, and I got my shower gel out. Within about another ten seconds she was back, taking the gel out of my hands and putting it in the bowl which was now ‘mine’. She got her own soap and showed me how to lather it properly. Apparently Molten Brown do not make a product that can do this, or perhaps it was my lack of requisite skill.

Not content with the lathering action I was now adopting, she took the soap back and proceeded to wash me down herself! Hair, face, the works. And vigorously. Fortunately, this whole process put us both in very good humour and she then took me on a tour of the small room with its many pools and steam rooms. By now she had the attention of everyone else, none of whom can speak a word of English but are obviously delighted that I am being looked after properly.  

The pools were different temperatures and the hottest is very hot. I know that my face is getting redder and redder, and this is a source of some friendly amusement, but nothing like the hilarity of the electrolyte pool. I knew my impromptu guide always had a beady eye on me, and she encouraged me to get into this weird and wonderful pool after her turn. It’s not really a pool. Think sheep dip.

At the first sign of me attempting to get in, a small crowd gather. There’s now no way that I can back out and I can tell quickly that this experience is akin to something out of a Frankenstein laboratory I wish I’d never entered. It feels like there are ants crawling all over me, and within seconds my armpits are somehow clicking and clacking. I communicate this to the spectating ladies through the age-old art of mime, something that I’d perfected during my three weeks in Japan. And the crowd roared! One lady opened her mouth and threw her head back, revealing her four prized teeth. The tittering died down and I clambered out because by now it’s painful. I’m assured by my onsen mama that this means it’s working, but I wasn’t prepared to hang around to find out.

I was all in a stew, and the cold pool beckoned. There was no one in this one either, the customers preferring the warm pools that didn’t either fry or freeze the skin. I got in and was eternally grateful that my cold-water training at home had finally paid off, and I managed a full immersion for a decent amount of time. I popped up to a round of applause! My comrades simply could not believe what I had done, and I got out to pats on the back as we all laughed. Perhaps they thought me a little unhinged but the arms round the shoulders were all friendly.

I was laughing because I was incredibly happy. I had been welcomed in to their place with genuine care and kindness. So much was said in body language alone. This wasn’t the forest or the basement, but it was the highlight of my onsen career to date, and one that I shall cherish forever for its sense of community and fun.