Soaked

by Yvonne Worden (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown Japan

I’d nearly missed our tour. “Did you have a good time last night?” Connor asked from across the table. “Maybe too much of one,” I admitted. “I think this should wake me up though.” Just an hour before, I was changing into my swimsuit at Yamato-Yagi station, hurrying to make my next train. I’d fought to stay awake on the express train from Kyoto. People regularly sleep on trains in Japan but somehow manage to stir awake just before their stop. I feared missing mine. I hadn’t recovered from an all-nighter of karaoke. My skin and clothing smelled like cigarettes and I had a headache. Whisky highballs and “Bohemian Rhapsody” still swirled in my head. I stared down at my safety form. “Do you think the guides will care if I put my boss down as my emergency contact?” My companions shrugged. “Nah – you’re good,” Sam said. Like myself, Connor and Sam were English teachers. We lived and worked in Nabari, located about an hour inland from Osaka. Connor introduced me to his Japanese coworker Yui, who’d been keen to join us. We were about to try sawanobori. This stream-climbing practice is offered at Nabari’s main tourist attraction, Akame 48 Waterfalls. Apparently ninjas used to train in the Akame ravine hundreds of years ago. After completing our paperwork, we received bundles of wetsuits and helmets. We got changed. My wetsuit, already tight, stuck to my sweaty skin. Central Japan was hot and humid for late September. I felt drenched already. A 20-minute van ride took us to the head of our trek. We descended into a section of the Akame ravine. The trail alternated between ankle-deep puddles and swimmable pools. We walked against the current. Where the water was deep enough, we climbed massive rocks and jumped into the pools. Our guide demonstrated the safest routes. Each jump filled us with thrill and satisfaction. Exhilarated as I was, none of this woke me up. Back in the visitor’s center after the tour, we were all shivering. Our remedy came in the form of complimentary vouchers to the local onsen. Onsens are public baths fed by natural hot springs – the epitome of relaxation culture in Japan. It had been a day for firsts; my first time singing at a karaoke bar, first sawanobori practice, and as my luck would have it, my first visit to an onsen. Men and women almost always bathe separately at onsens. Since I was an onsen ‘virgin,’ I was grateful for Yui as my guide. Unlike hot tubs or pools, there’s only one way you get into an onsen – naked. Yui and I undressed in the locker room. She slipped into the indoor bath before I could ask, “Can I bring my towel in with me or should I leave it in here?” After a few minutes battling my insecurity, I brought it. I entered the indoor onsen and looked for Yui. The room was full of steam and smelled like cedar and eucalyptus. About 15 women sat inside. Fountains fed the bath with an endless patter. I spotted Yui near the center of the bath and started toward her. She noticed my approach and signaled me to stop. “Wait, you must shower first,” she said, gesturing to the row of shower stalls that lined the wall behind me. Whoops. I followed Yui’s directions and showered. I scrubbed each surface of my body, surprised how much dirt from the ravine had tracked under my wetsuit. Properly rinsed, I returned to Yui’s side and slipped into the bath beside her. The water scalded my skin. I took some deep breaths and waited to acclimate. The outdoor bath was several degrees hotter than the indoor bath, but less crowded. Out there I was alone aside from one grey-haired woman. She floated in the bath with her arms and legs outstretched, like a child making a snow angel. Her eyes were closed. She sighed heavily. I saw her grin and couldn’t help but do the same. I lost track of time. The steaming water had renewed my exhaustion. Like that morning on the train, but smelling fresher, I fought to stay awake. At last, I soaked in the day.