Relaxing In The Bath, Japanese Style

Press, Volume CX, Issue 32358, 25 July 1970, Page 6

Relaxing In The Bath, Japanese Style

(By

KEN COATES,

who spent three months In Japan under the I»7» Mobil Travel Award)

The bath, in Japan, is much part of the Japanese way of life and has infinite variety. During three months in the country I was fortunate to be able to do something few foreigners have a chance of doing—l stayed with Japanese families in their homes, and had a chance of seeing at firsthand something of the differences in living.

It’s true that many Western ways have been adopted by the Japanese, and such things as refrigerators and television sets are now standard in most homes. But it’s equally true that traditional ways stay; In fact many Japanese businessmen took pride in telling me how, when they got home, they changed into kimono and lived and ate entirely Japanese-style. Let’s get back to the bath: it is just as courteous to ask a guest to take a bath as it is to offer him a beer. “Please take a bus,” indicated my Japanese host, soon after my arrival. I had incidentally travelled home with him by bus, crowded to capacity, and much to my surprise, and his, I was mobbed by his two small children when I arrived at his home. This broke the ice because a foreigner in a Japanese home is an event calculated to cause tension and days of preparation for the conscientious and hospitable housewife. This man, an average, middle-income earner, or salaryman, was a good bloke in the best Kiwi sense. Bath Next Door “Where ire we going?" I asked. "Please, take a bus now,” he urged, motioning towards the door. I stepped outside, after putting my shoes on again, of course. Then the penny dropped. The “bus" was of course a bath (because of his pronunciation). And the custom is to take it before the evening meal. But I couldn't make out why we needed to go outside for a bath. Maybe we were going to a public bath-house, I conjectured, as I’d done some limited reading on Japanese customs before I had left home. “We go to in-laws for bus," explained my friend. And be later told me how he had married the girl next door, and his house, built adjacent to the old family home of her parents, did not have a bath. After more introductions to his mother, sister and brother-in-law and their family—who were watching television—«s well as much smiling and bowing, I was ushered into a small, lowceilinged, steam-filled room. I could make out in a corner something that looked like an old-style copper in which some of our mothers in New Zealand used to boil up the weekly wash—at least mine did. This was unmistakably the bath. I undressed, and squatting on a low wooden stool that would hardly have been adequate for a dwarf, I washed myself as best I could, being careful to complete ablutions outside the bath. Traditional Tub As 1 poured' water from a plastic basin over myself, washing away the soap suds I recalled being told by a New Zealand resident in Tokyo—you never take the soap with you into a Japanese bath. I next lifted the lid of the steam copper, recalling being told about the delights of relaxing in a hot bath. Gingerly, I got in. It was scalding hot, and I almost shot straight out again.

The metal sides of the bath were sizzling hot, and I became aware of my friend outside the window. By the sounds he was making he had opened the iron door of the fire-box and was stoking up, flat out With the fire roaring beneath the bath and the water nearing boiling point, I decided I bad done my bit for international understanding and I leapt out But not before my host had called out solicitously: “Is It tepid for you.” “Tepid, it’s bloody well

boiling,” 1 shouted back as I hunted for a towel. But apparently the small piece of towelling with which one is supposed to wash also doubles as a towel. Dripping with water and perspiration I struggled back into my clothes, watched by two small children, who, wide-eyed, peeped through cracks in the wall. Later, I came to appreciate the value of a relaxing soak in a Japanese hatband of course there are more modern baths than this traditional tub I have described. Hot-Spring Resort In the famed hot-spring resorts to which thousands of Japanese flock there are exquisite tiled pools of many shapes and sizes into which hot water is piped from mountain springs. There are many resorts and pleasure towns all over Japan. They are filled with inns and hotels, and are geared for tourists in a way which makes some of our New Zealand efforts appear modest Indeed. The famed resorts and those not so famous are worth a book in themselves. But let us take a brief look at one area 1 visited: At a place in the northern island of Hokkaido is a thermal area named Noboribetsu. Here I checked In at a large Japanese inn. It was, of course, shoes off in the vestibule. The house slippers given are always too small and they always fall off when walking. With much bowing and smiles of welcome, I was shown to my room—a typical Japanese room complete with alcove, hanging scroll and tatamai, or mat floor. This one, however, bad a small window annex with a couple of Western-style chairs, a low table and a refrigerator filled with beer and soft drinks. In the main room there was a colour TV set—television is pretty well standard in all the better hotels in Japan. Incidentally, slippers are not worn on the tatamai mats, and you pad around in your socks. The language barrier is something of a problem, but with plenty of signs, a few phrases and infinite patience and good will can solve most problems as you sip tea and tell the maid of your needs. Noboribetsu has Rotorualike boiling pools and steaming fissures. Guides seemed to take delight in describing how many couples had committed suicide by throwing themselves in the boiling cauldrons, but then the Japanese have quite a different attitude towards taking their own lives. Basement Pools But to get back to the bath again. The maid made it clear that I should take a bath, “okii, onsen,” big, hot pool style, in the basement of the hotel. I was helped into kimono, and we set off. I was shown where to disrobe, and I was on my own. Remembering my sketchy reading back in New Zealand, I clutched the by-now-familiar small hand-towel, and pushed open the door of the bathhouse. Talk about hot pool—this place made anything at Rotorua look like a school learners’ pool. The huge vaulted basement, with pillars and concealed lighting, contained at least 20 or so pools of various shapes and sizes. It must have been early because there were a few Japanese men taking the waters at this stage—at least I could not see many because of the steam which filled the place. There were huge taps set in the wall, with rows of small stools for the washing procedure. And then came the basking procedure, with pools of

many temperatures. Some were scalding; others had the mineral consistency, it seemed, of thick soup. Everywhere, there were bubbling fountains, tropical plants and flowers and low rock walls with gurgling streams. As I lay in about pool number 15 I heard the sound of women’s voices, and a moment later a female bather strolled nonchalantly past my pool, “wearing" only the familiar hand-towel held strategically. And it came back to me in a flash—l had read somewhere that Noboribetsu was the only place In Japan where they still had mixed bathing. Frankly I was so boiled and steaming at this stage, I felt no embarrassment, and no-one took any notice of the only foreigner in the place. The pools began to fill up and men and women devoted themselves with typical Japanese single - mindedness to the business of washing and relaxing. One chap stretched out full-length at the pool-side and seemed to doze off. Mixed Bathing Traditionally, I’m told, the bath was one of the areas of Japanese life in which nudity in mixed company was normal and went unnoticed. Experts say the Japanese were taught for centuries to look upon everyone with wbom they came into contact from the viewpoint of their respective social positions, rather than personal or individual considerations. Times have changed, and mixed bathing has long been outlawed. Some Japanese women in the 1940 s and 1950 s pointed out that most Americans and Europeans considered mixed public nudity both immoral and barbarian. Therefore if the Japanese were to avoid being looked down on, they would have to adopt the Western attitude toward nudity. , Being extraordinarily sensitive to foreign criticism of their sexual mores, the Japanese were much influenced by this campaign, and mixed-bathing in public facilities was duly prohibited by an act of the Diet. This pool was of course in a hotel but the change in attitude was noticeable, despite the nonchalance of some Japanese. Two young women at the end of one pool became increasingly embarrassed as the number of Japanese males sampling the waters of this particular bath increased. Eventually they scrambled out, to whistles from several of the men. Hot spring resorts are for relaxation and fun for the Japanese. But it seemed to me the bath was strictly for relaxation—indeed the heat and the steam prescribes this. There are, of course, public baths, steam baths and Turkish baths. The discussion could go on endlessly. But I think the bath will long occupy an important place in this small and crowded country shared by 102 million people.