My eyes slowly closed as a gentle wash of satisfaction ebbed and receded with the memories of the evening. The muted sounds of late night traffic and freight trains floated into the room through the half open sliding glass door next to my head. A warm soft breeze crept over me as I half lay under a blanket drifting into sleep. It had all begun around dinner time, three or was it four hours ago.
“Let’s go to that yakitori shop around the corner” I said to my girlfriend as she walked into the apartment. “We haven’t been there for a few weeks and I liked the atmosphere. I also want to hit up that public bath that’s in the neighborhood afterwards.” Public baths are a great place to let stress bleed out of your body into steaming hot water and it’s a fantastic way to end a day after a delicious meal. The one catch is that you can’t be shy or hide behind a swimsuit when going in (though almost all places are separated men’s and women’s).
She tossed her stuff from work on to the bed, stuffed a couple of towels and some soap into another and said “Let’s go!” It was only a few minutes to the place and a quick fly-by to see if there were seats for us in the small shop produced a group of calls from inside the door for us to come in.
It was full up this Friday night and there was a mix of people sitting close to the L-shaped counter and everyone had a drink in front of them. “Michael, how are you?” the bartender asked through a smile while pulling out a pad of paper. “Great, great, we’ll start with two draft beers please.” To my left sat an older man nursing a glass of clear fluid (either Japanese rice wine or a vodka-like drink called shochu as I wasn’t sure at that time) talking to an older woman. To our right the rest of the customers including a man we had met on our previous visit.
The conversation danced back and forth on our left and right while the food flowed. Delicious dishes of meat, seafood, and boiled vegetables came in an almost endless stream as the night wore on. I soon found myself engaged in a conversation with a silver haired man to my right who had been to a myriad of places in the U.S. He listed them on his fingers, grinning as he proclaimed that “I have probably visited more cities than you have.”
I conceded defeat after 10 or so to keep the conversation going and soon found myself being asked if I liked shochu. This was not the first time I had been asked this question and I was well aquatinted with both the tastes and affects of that liquor. “But have you ever had Moriizou?” he countered with a devilish smile. A bottle appeared before me with a faded and expensive looking label. Removing the cork I took a whiff and was rewarded with a light sweet aroma.
“This stuff is really rare and expensive” he explained, offering me a glass. The other patrons in the bar nodded and my girlfriend turned to me, “he isn’t kidding; you can’t find this anywhere and even if you did…” I took the bottle and tipped it gently, allowing a slow stream to trickle over the ice until my glass was about a quarter full.
It slid gently down my throat leaving behind a ghostly flavor. A few minutes later, another Japanese man sitting to my left, not wanting to be outdone, offered me Japanese wine from his bottle. I took his offering and was rewarded with a cool sweet taste that contrasted my other drink.
Suddenly from a steep bunk-bed type staircase hiding in the back that led up to a second floor descended one man, then another, and another and another and finally a fifth and last man. Then handed money to the bartender as they shuffled out leaving my girlfriend and me curious as to what they had been doing. “Playing mahjong while watching TV” the bartender offered. “Sometimes it gets crowded in here and all they want to do is have a beer so I send them upstairs.”
The night slowly wound itself down with people leaving one after the other until it was only us, the bartender and his wife. Somewhere between the beginning of the exodus and then someone had refilled my glass with rice wine almost to the brim. Each customer as they left assured me that I did not have to finish the drink as it was a ‘friendly bar’ and people only drank when they wanted to but as the liquor was so good the only thing I could do was drink it.
We paid our bill, said our goodbyes and headed to the public bath that was conveniently located about 5 minutes away. We parted ways with her to the women’s section and me to the men’s. I opened my locker and quickly stripped down. Three men relaxing behind me in chairs were quite surprised by my presence and I flashed them a quick smile as I grabbed my small white towel and headed in to the bath.
Sitting at a small stool under my shower with hot water streaming over me I watched steam roll around the medium sized room. I completed the perfunctory washing making sure there was no soap residue and stepped into a bath labeled “therapy,” basically one with bubbles coming up from the bottom.
The hot water almost scalded my lower legs at first but sliding up to my neck with my legs stretched out in front of me proved easy. Work, stress, weariness all evaporated as the hot water and alcohol did their work. The drip of water and hushed conversation added flavor to an experience that could not be had in my home country. My eyes began to shut and I realized it was time to take a breather. With my blood pounding in my ears I stepped gingerly from the water aware that quick movements were out of the question.
A set of nearby stairs led me to a sauna which I was in no mood to enter and a cold bath, which seemed appropriate at the time. My legs almost went numb as I stepped in but a dogged determination combined with alcohol led me to submerging my whole body driving the air immediately from my lungs. Each breath came in warm and left cold. Frigid water sinking into my muscles drove sleep quickly from me.
My head soon began to swim and I once again headed downstairs to warmer water. A glance at the clock told me that it was almost time to meet up with my girl. The bath had done its work and it was time to rejoin the real world. I quickly toweled myself down ignoring the occasional incredulous glance of my fellow bathers, stepping into fresh clothes and then out the exit.
It is times like those that I truly love where I am. From a warm and friendly Cheer’s-like restaurant to a soothing public bath and them home without a worry, where else could you do something like this?
Only in Japan.
