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Boiled Octopus at a Japanese BathBy Kenneth KavanaghStanding naked with a room full of strangers staring at me made me realise why I had always tried to limit my experiences of public nakedness, but this was part of Japanese culture. I had reservations about trying the public baths, but following a trip to a sushi bar and a few bottles of saki, I had been convinced that this was one more Japanese tradition I had to experience. In the days when bathrooms were not a common feature of Japanese homes, public baths, or sentos, were the place to scrub yourself clean, relax and socialise with friends and family. Now Japanese bathrooms contain some of the most hi-tech gadgets in the world; there are the famed heated toilet seats and the electronic toilets that play music to mask embarrassing sounds. However, sentos have become popular again as a place to relax after work.
In recent years, huge modern complexes have opened offering a bewildering range of bathing experiences, including electric-charged waters to give mild shocks to stimulate the system. Most, though not all, baths are strictly segregated by sex so the first task facing most visitors is to ensure they enter the right changing room. I was lucky on two counts, firstly I had learned the Japanese symbol for men (it is always handy to know which public toilet to go into in case you get caught short) and secondly I was with a Japanese friend. The sento we visited was on the top floor of a Tokyo hotel, but open to the general public. We slipped our shoes off, handed some money to the attendant – an old woman who hovered between both changing rooms. She handed us two towels each; a bath towel and a tiny washcloth. The changing room was covered in tatami mats, the traditional straw matting of the Japanese and we placed our clothes in small wicker baskets and went through a door to the bathroom, clutching only the tiny towel to protect our modesty.
The Japanese, especially those in the city, are very tolerant of visitors making the odd faux pas, but at the sento there is a strict code to follow. Jenk had sternly warned me that there were two things that I had to follow: firstly I was not to stare at anyone with a tattoo (as more than likely they would be members of the notorious Yakuza), and secondly I wasn’t to get into the bath until I was absolutely squeaky clean. Along the side of the bathroom wall were a row of shower heads at about waist height, positioned under each was a tiny plastic stool and a bucket. The idea is to squat down on a stool and scrub yourself clean before entering the bath, which is used as a place to relax. The last time I had sat on such a small seat was in kindergarten, but with my knees up at my ears I started washing. I became paranoid: I shampooed, scrubbed, lathered, rinsed and repeated, sure that my hygiene routine was being scrutinised by my fellow bathers. Ten minutes later and having felt as if I had removed several layers of skin, I followed Jenk towards the bath. I could feel the eyes of the other bathers bore into me as we approached bath. Jenk eased himself slowly into the bath and nodded to the man beside him. I dipped my toe in and yelped a very unmanly yelp, shocked by the scalding water. Within a few seconds my body had adjusted to the heat and soon I felt deeply relaxed and carefree as I stared out over the bustling city below, chatting with some of the other bathers, who were keen to try out their English.
TipsThere are a large number of sento throughout Japan, most are welcoming though some, especially in the countryside, do not allow foreigners. Some of the more traditional baths will close on Tuesdays, more modern ones open every day, some even 24 hours a day. If you are heavily tattooed do not be offended if you are asked to leave the baths. Tattoos have long been associated with membership of criminal gangs. For more general information on onsen and sentos in Japan and Tokyo see http://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2002.html Japan’s National Tourist Organisation |
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At
weekends hundreds of Japanese take time off to meet with friends and get
away from the stress of life in the country’s onsen, naturally heated
outdoor hot springs and sento (where the water is artificially heated). In
fact the baths play an important role as a social leveller in a country
where other aspects of life, such as work, are regimented and hierarchical:
everyone is equal and clothe-less in a sento. 
In
front of two huge French windows looking over the Tokyo rooftops with its
twinkling lights, was a large, deep bath set into the floor. About a dozen
men, all Japanese, were sitting in the bath. A few were chatting, some had
their eyes closed and others had the tiny washcloths draped over their
heads. 
As
we stood up to leave Jenk pointed to me and told me I had a good bath. I
looked down at my body - from neck to toe I was scarlet from the burning
water. “You are yude dako,” Jenk said with a grin. The translated: “That
means “boiled octopus” – that’s what the baths are about.”