ONSEN MADNESS

I just got back from 3 days in Nagoya and the Hida Takayama area, first hanging out with my wife’s family and then enjoying the easy life in a couple of Japanese mountain spa/resorts. For the uninitiated, Onsens are volcanic hot springs purported to have quasi-supernatural healing qualities. A prolonged soak leaves you feeling relaxed and in my case, tired and spaced out in a good way (as opposed to my usual spaced out in a bad way). Generally speaking, the sweat keeps flowing after I’ve left the bath contributing to that jello-like sense of depletion (again, in a good way) although that may be more than you care to know. For people who like saunas and steam rooms, this is another level of indulgence. Each onsen is different--it’s the quality of the water that is most important--but a lot of them are in extremely picturesque surroundings and feature intense and beautiful “kaisen riyori” which is Japanese high cuisine. 

We took a train up into the mountains above Nagoya following a surging river that threaded it's way through mountain passes and wide valleys, passing farms and brilliant green rice fields. You know, you almost always learn something new every day, no matter how much you try to avoid it, and what I learned that day was that if you are traveling on a local train in Japan, and it rains a lot, the train stops. This is a little bit counter-intuitive, since you aren't getting wet or anything. Anyway, we had a two hour wait about 20 feet from a train station. The first 20 minutes or so were for the rain, the next hour and 40 minutes were so track workers could walk the length of  the effected area (by which I guess I mean, the wet part) examining the track to make sure nothing important had slid off in the deluge. Traveling in Japan, you have to admire the detail with which they perform every aspect of caring for the customer, but occasionally you do find yourself longing for the nonchalance of the american service industry.

Actually, now that I think of it, this delay was nothing I hadn’t experienced before, but the last time was during a typhoon so it was a little easier to accept. That time I was traveling with a band through Shikoku when we stopped, again, within view of a large train station with restaurants and stores and the like, where one might reasonably pass some mildly boring time waiting. We stayed there for about 4 hours, until the complaints of the  hungrier customers resonated with the powers-that-be at the Shinkansen (bullet train) administration and they allowed us to travel the 50 yards or so into the station. After a few hours of waiting in the station, we boarded the train again, and, as I recall (although I may be embroidering a little here) we waited another 5 or 6 hours.

Among the tourists traveling were a number of westerners, and all of the Japanese on the trains (the other customers I am talking about) who could speak English were hard at work on their cell phones, helping the gaijin (foreigners, non-Japanese) make their travel connections, confirming or searching for new reservations for them since, due to the weather delay, the tourist offices at the travel destinations would be closed when the train arrived. Taking care of other people is sort of a universal hobby here--one of the many attractions of this culture.

When we finally arrived and were shuttled up the mountain to our hotel in Gero Onsen, we rested a bit and then ate quite a lot of extremely attractive food. Then it was off to the bath.

One of the truly interesting things about travel is that when you step back and look at where you are (and how far you've come) it's a little shocking. Whether that moment occurs when you are asking for seconds of the marinated squid guts for your baked potato or whether you're discussing meta-math naked in a hot spring at the top of a mountain with a 70-year-old professor of mathematics who recently retired from his post at a French university, it’s always formidable, as the French speaking Japanese professors say. 

Actually, this was a bit unusual. I went into the bath (a large indoor, tiled pool, filled with water that was piped in from the underground hot spring) and was quickly joined by a pair of septuagenarian retired professors who felt like talking. It reminded me of a pub in Ireland, where people of all ages gather and hang out, albeit one where you are naked, sweating profusely and not drinking anything.

Anyway, these fellows were in a jolly mood and they interviewed me as aggressively as my Japanese would allow. Then the French speaker switched to English. He pointed at his crotch with one hand and his head with the other and said--these are my passions, which is certainly hard to disagree with. Musicians might point at their ears with one hand, or visual artists might point at their eyes, but I guess most men would end up dedicating at least one hand to their crotch (I’d make the obligatory masturbation joke, but it’s too easy, so I’ll let you make up your own.) He suggested we all move to the outdoor onsen which was pretty spectacular, bluish water, large rocks and steadily flowing water pouring in from a bamboo pipe, and the mountains all around. 

This professor’s field was meta-math, or the mathematics of mathematics, which I like to flatter myself I might have understood better if I wasn’t up to my neck in scalding torpor-inducing water. He did get through to me that he was interested in applying mathematical concepts to language, making subtle distinctions in the logic of sentences in different languages. He gave the sentence: “I am a thief” in Japanese as an example, which translated literally might be: “As for me, I am a thief.” In English the sentence is an equation--”I” equals “thief”. But in Japanese, the two terms aren’t equal, the I is more heavily weighted because of the particle “wa”. So the “I” is greater than (or perhaps greater than or equal to) the “thief”. I’m pretty sure I I am not qualified to have an opinion on this stuff, but that was most of what I got before the sweat dripped into my eyes and I changed the conversation to foods we all liked to eat. 

Speaking of thinking, I read a terrific book while I was traveling. It’s called, “Bad Science” by Ben Goldacre. It’s about how the media, alternative health sorts, Big Pharma, and society as whole misunderstands most science-related stories, not understanding the way research works, or what scientific method means. Ben Goldacre is a British doctor and journalist, but almost everything he writes about is equally applicable to the US media. In addition to being a very wise book, it’s also quite funny. I can’t recommend it more highly. I insist that every one of you read it.

The next day featured another great Onsen--this time at Hida Takayama. The ryokan (inn) we were to stay at lost our reservation (very unusual here) so they responded by giving us a better room at the same price. Actually this Onsen had two sister locations owned by the same folks--a smaller inn where they found us a great room (13 tatamis if you are counting, + a 6 tatami sitting room) and a larger hotel across the street and down about 30 yards that had a bigger outdoor bath. I donned my somewhat ill-fitting yukata (summer kimono robe, with vest) and geta (the wooden shoes that are a little like walking on a pair of lincoln logs) and walked out of the hotel, much to the suppressed amusement of everyone who saw me. I’ve never really been a big fan of westerners sporting traditional japanese garb, but if you are about to take a bath, there’s something pretty attractive about wearing a robe. Anyway, as cars moved out of my lane to avoid me, I found myself wondering (in this area where they are so concerned with preserving  beautiful Japanese traditions) if an irate driver might not swerve back at me to take out this blot on the Japanese fashion, and if a court might not find it justifiable. That’s the risk you take at these world heritage sites.

Okay, I’ve rambled enough at this point. Let me just add that we made it back to Nagoya in time for the Sumo tournament. (Asa Shoriyu--who probably can’t win this one took out the hometown favorite, as you all probably all know by now. My money is on Hakuho, although Kotooshu is still technically in it. It ain’t over until the the fat guy falls in the clay, as the Ozeki Yogi Be-u-ra used to say.) I’ve always liked Sumo, ever since I first saw an exhibition match at Madison Square Garden back in the 90s when Akebono was the man. I’m not sure exactly why, but there’s definitely some kind of affinity there, although any one of these guys could probably have anyone you know for lunch (and by the looks of things, probably have.) Actually, that was too easy. One of the trends I haven’t really dug is how much thinner these guys have gotten in recent years, (Check out a picture of Konishiki from back in the day) but they’re probably healthier. Anyway, for those of you who have stuck with this unbelievably long entry, that’s it for now.) Tomorrow, I’m off to New Zealand.