The Onsen Survival Guide for Foreigners

Or: How to Sit Next to a Fat, Middle-Aged, Naked Man and Enjoy It (More Than Usual)

Ah, the onsen.  One of Japan's most exotic traditions.  To indulge in the public bath is to indulge oneself in Japanese culture.  Few of life's pleasures rival stewing in 104 (F) degree natural mineral water during a long vacation.  Indeed, entire vacations can be designed around Japan's offerings of hot springs framed by picturesque natural scenery.

But how can you enjoy yourself without feeling grody next to a bunch of old naked dudes?  Fortunately, dear reader, I have an answer.  And being that I am currently on the mend and unable to indulge firsthand, I can at least console myself by talking about a pastime that I have come to enjoy during my time in Japan.  And who knows?  One of us might just learn something (probably you).

Before we get started, there are a few things to be aware of to ensure that your time spent in the bath will be as relaxing as possible.  This includes parts of Japanese culture that one might not know to expect, as well as a bit of terminology and manners.

First, learn the terminology.  An onsen is a naturally occurring hot spring.  A sento is a public bath where the hot water has been imported from somewhere else.  Boy will your face be red if you mix this one up.

Next, be culturally sensitive.  For dudes, that means getting used to seeing other dudes who might... have a bit more going on than you're used to.  You know, turtle-neck-wise.  Whereas circumcision became popular in the US in the decades following the end of the Second World War outside of its traditional religious uses, it never caught on in Japan.  If you're coming from Europe, this isn't going to be much of a thing.  For women, it means lots and lots and lots of hair.  Try not to sneak a peek of anyone's junk unless you're at least 90% sure it's going to make you feel better about yourself.  The hot spring isn't just for purging sweat and "toxins" from your body, it's also for purging a crippling sense of inadequacy.

I can only speak for what goes on in the men's baths when I say this but, be prepared to possibly see someone's very young daughter (age 0-10).  Parents bring their children (regardless of gender) to the public bath.  Apparently Japanese parents seem to think it's better than leaving their kids somewhere.  I'm still undecided as to whether this is superior to the Proud American Tradition of locking children in the car.  For whatever reason, no one in Japan thinks it's weird when a woman cleans the men's room or sento shower room, either--even when men are using it.

So you've finally overcome your anxiety surrounding exposing your pitiful, withered, naked shame (God's curse on you for being so ugly) to all of Japan (everyone's going to judge you).  You brought your towel, possibly a change of clothes, any soaps or shampoos that your dainty ass might desire, and the nice lady across the counter just handed you a key.

Alas, it's not for a box of money.  It's for your shoes, dummy!  Japan is all about taking off their shoes everywhere they go (in all seriousness, when I went to the hospital for surgery, I had to take off my shoes and put on a pair of hospital slippers, whereupon I walked ten feet to the next room, and changed my slippers again.  I don't know).  This is one of those times.  Take off your shoes (you may later receive another key to a separate locker for your belongings, but let's move along) and step intrepidly across the breach.

You're now in the changing/locker room.  If you came with friends or guests, be sure to strip as quickly as possible.  This will establish you as the alpha male of the group.  If possible, wait for a moment when your party is distracted or turns their heads.  You're like backwards Superman!  And, like Superman, many things in this room can paralyze you.  With fear!  Not the least of which is the fact that tons of naked dudes are coming back in from the bath and ready to put their clothes back on.  Like a handful of change held tightly in a fist, the quarters are close.  One false move and you can go ass to wet, naked ass without the slightest warning.  And, with all due respect to Clerks 2 and especially Requiem for a Dream, you never, ever go ass-to-ass.

Now, it's time to take the plunge.  Not the actual plunge, that comes later.  For right now, you're filthy.  Instead, take the metaphorical plunge and stride into the mists, confident now in your cultural understanding and ready to relax with a hot shower and then allow your cares and worries melt away in the sublime warmth of Japan's natural serenity.

Wait.  Stop.  Hold everything.  Did you remember to bring a hand-towel?  Oh man, you're going to look like the biggest poser in school if you forgot to bring one.  Quick, run back into the locker room and grab one out of the basket, maybe nobody noticed.  But don't run run, what if somebody sees you?  You're supposed to be carrying yourself with effortless dignity!  Got your hand towel?  Your dainty soaps?  Great.  Get back out there and be graceful about it!

The next thing you'll notice once your heart rate normalizes is row upon cascading row of (usually) sit-down shower stalls.  You stink, so sit down on the stool and give yourself a nice wash and rinse.  Try not to stare at the guy brushing his teeth and angrily blowing snot out his nostrils every few seconds, and get out of there quickly.  Still have your hand towel?  You're almost there.  Approach the pool of water in front of you, take a deep breath, and step in.  The next thing you will notice is the biting, icy chill of Jack Frost's own blood as it tears into the fabric of your soul.  Stand up and get out.  That was the "cold" hot spring, clocking in at a modest 64 degrees.  You weren't supposed to get into that one.  That's for old people.

Look for a bath with a digital thermometer with a display reading between 39 and 41 degrees (Celsius) and, this time, test the water before you get in.  Nice and warm, right?  Feel as the warmth crawls up your foot, embracing your leg and beckoning you come in.  Find a seat next to the wall and allow the balmy blanket envelop you as the stingers of a thousand angry hornets tear into your backside, chainsawing away at your very flesh.  Stand up and get out.  That is the electric tub.  You weren't supposed to get into that one.  That, too, is for old people.

Look for another tub.  Quickly!  Your girlish, agonized screams likely attracted attention, but perhaps they were lost in the echoes and fog long enough for you to escape unnoticed.  Do you still have your hand towel?  Too late, forget about it!  Save yourself!  Finally, you shuffle outside into the pristine wild.  Soggy, broken, a shell of your former self.  The cool air smacks your senses as you breathe deeply of the fresh mountain air.  Your bare feet pad across the ground with renewed vigor as you approach your watery salvation and sink into the intoxicating placidity.  Simple and rich, the bath water folds around you, a cocoon of warmth and joy and everything right with the world.

Closing your eyes, off in the distance you swear you hear the sound of water slapping rock, laughing as it plays through the gullies and streams, making its way here to this place, this sanctuary from the stresses and worries of the outside world.  The chuckle of the water treading its path through the thirsty land becomes stronger, a dull roar, washing over you on all sides as your body pulses with life and joy and harmony with all creation.  The laughter is alive!  All around you!  You open your eyes once again to allow your soul to dance in unity with Gaia, the earth spirit, and the laughter manifests and becomes real!

Everyone's staring at the jackass who forgot his hand towel.