There are several onsen in my town. I often go to one that is owned by a friend. She gives me a good deal. Her onsen contains an array of hot water delights: pools of varying temperature, a sauna, a jet pool, bubbling pools, small waterfalls (for shoulder massage), a cold plunge pool and showers. It also includes a small outside pool that is heated to 46 degrees Celsius. It is a treat. One particular day I was freed early from my duties at school and I decided to head there for a soak.
Standard onsen procedure is: pay money, get key, enter changeroom, remove ALL clothing, stash possessions in locker then carry small white towel into room with steaming pools. Inside most men just swagger around with the wedding tackle swaying in the breeze while others clutch this small white towel tightly to their groin in an effort to cover their shame. Inside there is usually a row of stools, basins, liquid soap and shampoo, and plumbing gadgetry. You sit on a small stool and wash and wash your body with this towel and soap before getting into the bath. I have witnessed Japanese men scrubbing themselves feverishly for a good thirty minutes before getting in the water.
It was relatively early on this particular day and the place was almost deserted. A few blokes were moving sluggishly about the place. I scrubbed and shaved and soaked and steamed and, as I often do, I decided to finish off with a soak in the very hot outside pool. So off I move in the direction of the door that opens out onto the garden and the extremely satisfying outside pool. I opened the door and had a peek to see if anyone was about - no one in sight - I could enjoy a quite meditative moment in its hot steamy waters. I opened the door and started walking towards the pool. Suddenly a fully naked and heavily tattooed Yakuza came flying towards me from out of the ornamental garden.
Quite frightening really. For a brief moment I had a vision of me and this killer engaged in naked hand to hand combat; the steam rising from the onsen, blood and spittle flying, wild flashing eyes, tattooed dragons twisting and writhing in a death-grip. But I soon realised that the look on his face was not anger at all - it was something more like embarrassment. I had caught him doing something that even the Yakuza considered naughty - but what?
He froze at the edge of the garden and looked me up and down (gulp). His face slowly cracked a big smile and he motioned for me to join him in the garden (gulp, gulp!). I indicated that I didn’t think that was such a good idea. His smile disappeared and he spat some sharp words at me. I don’t know what they were but I guessed them to mean "get your skinny white arse over here". I complied. His embarrassed smile reappeared. He led me off into the garden. Oh God! What did this gangster have in store for me? Ritual buggery, violent murder, cruel and sadistic torture - death by bonsai? My mind was racing. He led me on and then suddenly stopped near a wall and crouched down.
It soon became apparent that this violent and dangerous denizen of the underworld was in fact engaged in the time-honoured tradition of peeking at the naked women bathing next door. I had caught him in the act. He motioned that I should also cop a look at the naked beauties next door. I quietly signed that I didn’t think that was a good idea either. In a low and menacing growl he indicated that he thought it was. I quickly got down and peeped through the small hole in the stone wall. I couldn’t see a damn thing. The Yakuza didn’t believe me and he got down and had another look himself. He slowly got up, looked at me and shrugged a look which is instantly recognisable between the men of any culture; it was the ‘sorry, mate, the naked babes have gone’ look. For a brief moment there was real understanding between us. We were from entirely different worlds - he was an organiser of organised crime, I was a teacher of English - but we were both men and we were both naked and we were both standing in a Japanese ornamental garden feeling suddenly pretty bloody stupid. We giggled nervously at each other and shuffled our feet a little before deciding to head for the more familiar experience of sitting naked together in a bath. Japan is a strange place at times.
*Yakuza are the Japanese equivalent of the Mafia.
*Onsen is the Japanese-style hot spring and bathhouse experience.