Chapter 5 (Episode 1) – Kusatsu, the Heart of Gunma
(Day 5)
Breakfast was the same as yesterday, but today I handled it like a seasoned local — rice first, miso next, and just the right amount of tsukemono on the side.
I even managed to pour tea without spilling it. Progress.
Getting to Kusatsu felt long before it even began.
A shinkansen, a smaller train, and finally a local bus that seemed determined to stop at every lamp post in Gunma — sixty-two stops, according to the sign above the driver’s seat.
By the time I arrived, the bus station was alive with people bundled in scarves and puffed jackets. Couples, hikers, families. After days of quiet towns, Kusatsu felt almost… energetic.
Steam curled up from the drains as I dragged my bag through narrow streets lined with ryokan and souvenir shops, as if the town itself was exhaling.
At my hostel, a young woman greeted me with a bright “Irasshaimase!” and offered to store my luggage.
Then she asked, almost mischievously,
“Would you like to try yukata dressing?”
I said no immediately, citing the cold as if it were a perfectly reasonable excuse. It was only later, somewhere between regret and common sense, that I realized I’d probably just turned down my only opportunity to experience something genuinely Japanese.
The heart of town, Yubatake — literally “hot water field” — felt unreal.
Steam rose constantly, carrying the faint scent of sulfur: not unpleasant, just ancient.
People wandered between shops, dipping their feet into small pools of mineral water. I stood still for a moment, watching it all, thinking:
This is what Japan smells like — earth and time.
Lunch presented a familiar traveler’s dilemma: a famous restaurant packed with people, or a small one tucked away on a quiet street.
I chose the quiet one. I always do.
Inside, the owner greeted me warmly and served a steaming bowl of gomoku ramen — noodles topped with five ingredients in perfect balance.
The broth was rich and comforting, the kind of flavor that feels like being forgiven for something you didn’t know you’d done.
Later, I found a café overlooking the onsen and treated myself to chestnut cake and a hot latte.
Outside, steam rose in slow spirals while inside, coffee and cake achieved perfect harmony.