Before 2009 came to its sudden halt, I went along with a group of aikidoka and friends to hike Nijouzan (Mt. Nijo), which is situated in Nara prefecture overlooking Osaka to its northwest and Nara city to its northeast.

Our sojourn started by assembling at 8:30 AM at the Kintetsu Abenobashi station, and from there we set out to a small train station not far from our starting point, which is where we met up with friends of Nanami who joined us for the rest of the journey. I should note that I also brought along Zack Kaplan, a foreign exchange student from the United States who studies at Ritsumeikan University in Kyoto. I know from playing Go in the United States and am fortunate enough that his studies bring him close to Osaka for a year!

Rob Hori was a little delayed getting to the rally point in Osaka, so we linked up with him shortly after we arrived in Nara prefecture, just before we went to visit Harubi Temple, which is also where our hiking trek up the mountain began. We departed the temple at 10, just on schedule — and there, slowly but surely, began the ascent!

By noon, I think everyone was huffing and puffing enough from the climb, so we stopped for lunch, and were treated to a fantastic view of Nara to the northeast.  From our lunch stop, we continued to the summit (517 metres in altitude), then descended a bit and reascended to the public park (474 metres) at which a monument to the historic ruins once found on the site was erected.  It’s a beautiful sun-dial, the points of which represent both the cardinal directions and the signs of the Chinese zodiac.  I am a bit partial to the rabbit, since it’s my Chinese zodiac sign.

Although the hard part of our trek was done, we still needed to descend to the base of the other side of the mountain, and it was pretty steep in parts.  However, we were able to take a moment to see the remains of an ancient temple carved into the side of a stone face.  Next to the main religious monument was a carved-out grotto, which Nanami took to be her own for a little while.

At the end, we all got a nice reward, because we were all able to go to the Taishi Onsen and soak our weary bodies for a couple of hours before heading back to Osaka. It was a most excellent way to spend the day!

Getting to the Ryūjin spa town was half of the fun of the experience.  Situated well into the mountains, the simplest way for us to reach the ryokan was via a combination of train (Japan Rail) and bus (Ryūjin bus).

First we rode the Super Kuroshio limited express train along the coastline from Tennōji station to Kii-Tanabe station, which takes just short of 2 hours. Then we purchased tickets for the Ryūjin bus to the onsen town at the counter just outside the station. About 15 minutes later, we boarded the bus at the adjacent bus stand (labeled in Japanese and English) and rode it until reaching our destination stop, which was a mere two minutes’ walk to the ryokan. The 1-1/2 hour bus ride into the beautiful mountains that separate Kii-Tanabe from the famous Mount Kōya was breathtaking. The vistas into the canyons were stunning, even in the months of winter.  I can only speculate how pretty it must be during the spring or autumn.

Upon reaching the final stop, we walked the short distance to the Kamigoten ryokan. The inn, built in 1657, is deceptively simple on the outside.  But moments after seeing the polished wood floors upon entering, one realizes the real beauty and splendor of the building. It’s easy to miss the reception room upon entering if the staff take you directly to your room, but it’s worth stopping to see the polished tables and the original scrolls that dot the wall in this room. Unlike a hotel, the rooms are named instead of numbered; alas, I did not remember to ask what was the naming convention for the rooms.

The Japanese-style guest rooms are beautiful in their simplicity, with immaculate tatami mats as well as a manicured tokonoma that included a rather large caligraphic scroll as well as a kadō flower arrangement.

We settled in for the evening and were told that dinner and breakfast would both be served in the room. We changed into the yukata and uwagi provided by the ryokan, which we wore for the remainder of our stay.

Before dinner, I unpacked a small 13×13 Go board that I’d brought along for the trip and set it up in the drawing room of our quarters, which overlooked a small, crystal-clear mountain stream that passes through this onsen town. The enjoyable game of Go that my brother and I played while relaxing was followed by more such games during the course of our stay. We both have a lot to learn about the game, but playing in such a rarefied atmosphere really enhanced the game, regardless of our level of ability.

Dinner arrived precisely on schedule, and I must say that it was nothing short of exceptional. The menu was:

• Boiled wasabi and soy sauce
• Itadori (Japanese knotweed) with sesame sauce
• Chestnut, ume (a pickled apricot-type fruit often translated as plum), cucumber with butterbur and miso sauce
• Sesame tofu
• Lightly grilled deer meat with tataki sauce
• Shiitake mushrooms, royal fern, carrot, bamboo shoots, pea pods (mangetout), kabocha squash (Japanese pumpkin)
• Amago trout and Ayu (Sweetfish)
• Hitomi manju (bun of rice covered with a mix of minced chicken and potatoes)
• Vegetable tempura (eggplant, kabocha squash, pea pods, shiitake mushrooms, and king trumpet mushroom)
• Wild boar nabe (“hot pot” stew)
• Devil’s tongue (arum root) jelly with sweet vinegar
• Fruit jelly with mango sauce and strawberry sauce, both locally produced

After dinner (and a slight pause for digestion), we retired to the onsen and soaked in the mineral-laden waters for nearly an hour. By the time we finished, we were so relaxed that I’m surprised we had the energy to make it back to the room!

(sleep… Zzzzz…)

In the morning, we woke up bright and early at about 10 minutes before 6 AM. You see, the ryokan has both indoor and outdoor onsen.  There are separate indoor onsen for men and women, but there is only one outdoor bath, which is intended for use by families or individuals on a one-at-a-time basis, with a 20-minute time limit.  Therefore, we woke up early in order to be the first to enter the outdoor onsen, thereby avoiding waiting in line in the cold.

Alas, we were not the first ones there: by 6:05, when we arrived, someone was already in the outdoor onsen and had locked the entry gate.  However, by around 6:20 it had been vacated again and we were therefore able to spend our 20 minutes in the stone bath that directly overlooked the stream.  By now it was starting to get slightly light outside, and the view was spectacular.  The fresh mountain air blowing on one’s face while submerged in a pool of quite hot spring water is something not to be missed.

After the onsen, we returned to the room and rested.  But eventually the clock turned to 9 AM; we knew it was time to pack our bags, check out and take a ride on the Ryujin bus back to Kii-Tanabe train station for the onward trip home to Osaka. I will always treasure this, my first ryokan experience, and hope to return again, for it was an amazing time.

Anyone who’s spent time in Japan knows how important ofuro (お風呂, the bath) is to Japanese society and life. An onsen is very much like a sentō (銭湯, neighborhood public bath), except that the water comes from a natural hot spring, usually situated directly underneath the onsen. The idea of a public bath is completely foreign to most people from Europe and America, and those who are aware often come up with their own interpretation of a public bath, completely misunderstanding the idea as it’s practiced in Japan.

The sentō tradition extends back more than 500 years and is connected with a desire for purity that is found in the Shinto religion and, therefore, within Japanese culture.  For instance, before entering a shrine, one must purify oneself by rinsing both the mouth and hands at a temizu, which is a water pot and ladle found at the shrine’s entrance.

The word hitogomi (人混み) is Japanese for “a crowd of people” and is composed of the root words for “people” and “impurity” and underscores the connection between the two. Because Japan is a densely populated nation, anyone away from his home or office is surely forced into contact with many people, thereby coming into contact with the dirt of the city and its crowds.  Often one of the first things a Japanese person does after returning home is to wash his hands, rinse his mouth, or bathe, so that the impurities from outside may be cleansed. Purity isn’t limited to special sacred places; instead, it is extended to one’s home.

The Japanese way of bathing: rinsing, washing, rinsing again, and then finally getting into the tub, is taken for granted by most Japanese, but is almost unheard of by the rest of the world. There are many web pages devoted to teaching people the proper “way of bathing”, and it’s definitely worth reading before going to an onsen or sentō for the first time. (See JNTO guide, for example.)

Social context of bathing and sentō

The Japanese believe that bathing together is a way to break down barriers of communication between people of different social status or background. The term hadaka no tsukiai (裸の付き合い, naked companionship) (article) refers to the existence of a bond of real trust between people.  In other words, Japanese feel that when one is so comfortable and trusting of another that they disrobe and bathe together, they forge closer ties.

Nudity shows complete vulnerability, for where can one conceal weapons when one is unclothed? One does not need to hold onto pretenses any longer. The tensions of the outside world will cease to interfere while one is in this environment. This idea of closeness is an important part of both professional and social life for adults.  Equally important is the kind of closeness between mother and child referred to as skinship, which is considered to be of great importance for Japanese child development, and which is believed to be fostered through the use of sentō.

The Japanese are in a unique position then, socially. Although less-than-open about their private lives, they are nonetheless accustomed to sharing close, personal space with many people. It is impossible to escape others when traveling via public transit, especially during rush hour. Apartments and houses are often very small and close together so that more people may take up less space. If a person wishes to bathe, even such an intensely private activity may be witnessed by many at a sentō or onsen. In order to survive and thrive in such close quarters, the Japanese language provides a rather complex set of polite speech patterns, and Japanese are accustomed to being highly deferential to others, which inserts some artificial distance between people.

If this is the case, how can people reconnect with one another on a more informal basis? Of course, it’s at the bath. The bath is more than just a bath. It is a place to talk to one’s peers and friends; a place to educate children; and a place to relax and wash away cares. In essence, it’s the perfect place to reconnect with what may be lost in the daily grind.