Chapter 5 (Episode 2) – “Public Bath Courage: Postponed”
In the afternoon, I visited the local zoo to see the famous onsen monkeys — creatures clearly wiser than most travelers, soaking peacefully as if they had already solved life.
Then I climbed the steps to Kōsen-ji Temple, overlooking the town.
For once, I didn’t take a photo. I just stood there and breathed.
At sunset, I watched the Yumomi show — women stirring the hot spring water with long wooden paddles, singing rhythmic songs to cool it down.
It was part ritual, part performance, and a reminder that in Japan, even practical tasks are treated with care.
That evening, I debated whether to try a public bath or retreat to a private one.
One voice said, “Be Japanese — go public!”
Another replied, “Learn how to be Japanese first.”
The second voice won.
My private bath at Ōtaki no Yu was everything I didn’t know I needed.
I soaked in silence, wrapped in sulfur steam, until my thoughts dissolved completely.
When I stepped out, my skin tingled and my mind felt suspiciously light.
Was it the magical power of the hot spring — yu no chikara (湯の力)?
Or was I simply delusional after being slowly boiled like a dumpling?
Either way, I was convinced I was glowing.
A local auntie passed by without noticing anything unusual, which confirmed it:
yes, I was absolutely delusional.
But ii deshou — it felt wonderful.
Dinner was karaage and a cold beer at a lively izakaya.
People laughed, glasses clinked, and someone hummed an old enka tune.
For the first time all day, I didn’t feel like an outsider.
After dinner, I made the healthiest decision possible: souvenir shopping.
I wandered through a giant omiyage store where nobody browsed — they hunted.
“Zettai oishii!”
“Gunma’s No.1!”
Naturally, I believed everything.
An hour later, my basket was overflowing, and a troubling thought occurred:
I still had three more days in Japan.
Back at the ryokan, wrapped in my yukata and stretched out on the futon, I noticed a small stack of books by the window.
I opened one at random and let Google Translate do its unpredictable magic.
One word stood out clearly:
Okinawa.
It felt like a message — or maybe a suggestion from the travel kami-sama themselves.
Next time, go south.
Or maybe I was just drunk on sulfur steam and fried chicken. Hard to say.
As I closed my eyes, one thought lingered:
If peace had a temperature, it would feel exactly like Kusatsu’s hot spring water —
just right.
enka (演歌) คือแนวเพลงดั้งเดิมของญี่ปุ่น
• อารมณ์เหงา ซึ้ง ลึก
• เนื้อหาเกี่ยวกับความคิดถึง ความรักที่ไม่สมหวัง การจากลา ชีวิตคนธรรมดา
• มักเปิดในร้านอาหารเก่า ๆ บาร์ท้องถิ่น สถานีรถไฟ หรือที่ที่คนญี่ปุ่นรุ่นก่อนคุ้นเคย
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