When we arrived in the resort town of Karuizawa, Priya and I had been travelling in Japan for 10 days, racing around cities on subways and taxis, dashing between destinations on Shinkansen trains, and putting our feet and legs to the test with record step counts; all of this lit by a neon blur and fuelled by non-stop Japanese cuisine. It was high time we slowed down.
A circuitous route had led us to identify Karuizawa as a stop. Just a short journey from Tokyo, the town serves as both a summer and winter playground for the affluent. Its elevation brings some relief from the summer heat of the capital, and in winter the same altitude brings a little more snow. With Japan’s visitor numbers so high, a little relief from the tourist highlights was something we sought as much as the change of pace and the escape to nature.
We arrived in mid-December with Mt Asama topped with snow. The evening temperatures hovered just below zero, considerably cooler than our previous stops. The crisp mountain air tasted good as the chill touched our skin.
The key feature of our chosen resort was a private onsen, a bath sourced from the natural hot springs.
Now Japan has a culture bound in respect. One way in which that respect is reflected is in rules that define so many interactions. So of course there were rules to be applied at an onsen.
Before making our way to the onsen, I made sure I was well versed in the etiquette of the baths. Never one to welcome making a mistake, the anxiety was up a notch in this environment where I did not want to be disrespectful. We changed into the onsen pyjama outfit, wrapped ourselves in a samuae (thick dressing gown) and poked our toes into socks that facilitated wearing the flip flops that were part of the uniform (Japanese functionality at its best, these socks).
At the baths, we separated, for the baths are strictly male and female – there was and is no middle ground here.
The most elementary of onsen rules was the demand for nudity.
If I’ve ever stripped myself naked in front of complete strangers before, I can’t remember the occasion, so I approached this uncertain of how I’d feel. I was glad that the changing room was vacant and with just one set of flip flops left at the entrance, knew the male bath was practically empty.
In fact, shedding my outfit felt very natural. I was reduced to elemental Andrew, all my physical imperfections out in the open. Exorcising my clothing was liberating, and a leveller, too.
The next rule was to wash thoroughly before entering the communal bath – yes, a bath to prepare for a bath – so that I did, in the shower cubicles opposite the bath proper.
The heat of the baths was already apparent in the steamy room, and, discarding a towel (another rule), I descended the four steps into the hot waters.
The water temperature forced a sluggishness upon me. I slowly made my way into the first bathing area and found a place to rest.
Now it was possible to properly wallow in the environment. The heat-induced lethargy was reinforced by dim lighting and a gentle musical ambience. (My relaxed memory fails to recall if this was another airing of Japan’s ubiquitous music, jazz.) The true soundtrack was the water, though. The three taps replenishing the bath added a white noise background which was complemented by the outgoing water lapping over into hidden drains, this naturally varying as the bathers adjusted their position. A gentle pressure from the water, into which I had sunk up to my neck, soothed further.
To record that this was relaxing is unnecessary. It was the perfect space in which to switch off.
Blissfully unaware of time – no watches, no clocks – I wallowed in the escape.
Eventually the accumulation of heat overcame me, forcing a move. I retreated to grab a small towel, doused it in cold water, folded it and placed it atop my head, as if it were some white toupe rather than a makeshift cooling device.
With this temperature adjustment I carried on for some more time, even as new people arrived. I found the increased sharing of the space an unwelcome intrusion, not quite so switched off now.
It was time – whatever the clock said – to finish up.
After a cleansing shower, I dressed unhurriedly and exited.
The warmth through my body, searching for a contrast, now felt perfectly at ease with the fresh evening air. I let the cool wrap itself around me as I adjusted to the night’s darkness.
A cloudless sky dotted with stars and a nearly-full moon was matched at ground level by lanterns, placed in the stream that ran between the resort’s wooden villas. Aside from gentle stream water, falling over rocks, there was nary a sound. There was not a hint of a breeze, the stillness completing the somnolence.
Emerging to the winter night was just perfect.
Here I found Priya, having appeared in a similarly relaxed state, chatting quietly with a fellow bather and contemplating the beauty of the environment.
Shortly, we sauntered back to our villa, utterly at ease.
Soon enough we would be back to the neon blur, to the crowds, to the excitement, but for now that was so far far away. No hurry, no hurry.