Day 3 is devoted to enjoying Kiso-Fukushima, including the Ryokan. What is a Ryokan, you say? I have used the term Inn before, and a Ryokan is a particular type of Inn. There are a variety of Ryokans, each having at least a bathing arrangement using natural hot springs or heated water. The attraction of a Ryokan is not just the bathing options but also the dinners and breakfasts and the extensive garden surroundings, which the guests are encouraged to enjoy in quiet contemplation. Even the reception process is crafted to relax the guests, and taking your shoes off to enter the raised floor reception area is the first step to achieving that aim.
There are set times for dinner and breakfast (which some Ryokans let you choose during the check-in process), so in the very Japanese way, everyone is on time, knowing that the meticulous preparation of each dish and the cheerful and informative presentation of each course is timed to perfection. We wore the supplied yukata to dinner and were greeted at the dining area entrance and shown to our table. Food is presented in small portions over many courses. A tray containing a collection of different foods for each course is presented, and most of them are tasty, and some are best drowned in the accompanying beer or Sake. You can immediately appreciate that each food portion is fresh and of the highest quality. The small portions soon add up, and eventually, we are full and unable to eat the very small serving of dessert. All the meals we were provided had very small portions of dessert.

The room accommodation is much the same in most Ryokans, as I described previously for our first Inn experience. So, it was time to experience the bathing environment. We had researched this aspect of our stay and knew that the experience might take us out of our comfort zone, as bathing is a communal experience. However, to make sure you are clear, there are two communal bathing areas, one for the men and one for the women.

So, after our dinner, we wore our supplied yukata with minimal underwear and tentatively and nervously shuffled wearing slippers to the hot spring bathing area. We parted ways to meet our fears.

There are many etiquette guidelines to know and follow, but I will only describe the ones I followed and apologise later for the foobars.

As I enter the men’s designated area, I see a young Japanese gentleman getting dressed in the changing area. This is not a worry as he is almost fully clothed and soon leaves the area. I place all my clothing in a basket and notice there is a locker arrangement where I could have stored valuables and a wrist-worn key to wear as I bathed. Of course, I have been in many football locker areas and shower rooms as I played and umpired Australian Rules football for many years, so I am not uncomfortable. This would be more of an issue for Lee as she is not used to being in the company of other naked women.

The changing area is large and includes a wall of baskets for receiving clothing, many dressing table booths, I suspect these are provided for when when the women use the same area since the bathing areas are swapped on a daily basis, to do their makeup and such. There is a drinking fountain and cups, as well as yoga mats located near a large floor-to-ceiling window, and a few seats arranged so those seated could look out into a lush garden.

I took the opportunity to sit down with a towel wrapped about my lower torso to do what is par for the course, and that is to think or not think as my mood took me while gazing into the very green and lush garden. The Japanese revere this time spent by themselves and consider it a part of their being, and I can understand why that is so. However, it would take me more than the few moments I have devoted to the process to benefit from it fully. Something to contemplate when I return to Australia and my relatively busy and, at times, stressful life.

The room adjacent to the changing area comprises a large, tiled floor area with the now familiar array of mirrors, small stools and the complex plumbing located along three walls of the room. Adjacent to another wall is a large pool which occupies most of the room’s floor area. Steam rises from the surface of the hot water, which is also lapping at the sides of the pool as a continuous stream of water falls into the pool from a raised ledge. I have with me a very small towel that is not much larger than a handkerchief. This is the only towel permitted in the pool, but I have also brought a larger towel I will use to dry myself before leaving the pool area (Foobar number 1). I place the larger towel on a ledge for retrieving later.
I commenced the cleaning steps I described in my earlier posting, and I am confident I have ensured that I am requisitely clean for entering the pool.

During my cleansing process, an older gentleman enters the pool room and begins his cleansing steps.

I stand, make my way to the pool, and gently step into the pool via some steps, and find that the pool is only knee-deep and very warm. My knee deep means that when I eventually sit down, the upper portion of my torso is above the water level. The heat of the water is not oppressive, and I soon acclimatise. However, the heat is distracting as I soon forget to think about anything other than the heat as a warm, comforting blanket. The pool has a view of the outside garden, and I notice there is a pool there as well. I have lots of time, so I am not in any hurry to get out there, so I sit back and begin thinking and not thinking, or at least thinking that it is a good thing not to think too deeply about anything if that makes sense.

My handkerchief-sized towel is close by me, but I have read that the towel is meant to be placed on your head as you lounge about in the pool. I soon see how that is done when the older gentleman enters the pool. We both look out of the window.
I stand up with my small towel in hand, climb out of the indoor pool, and walk carefully over the tiled floor to a glass door leading outside. The steam is more pronounced in the outdoor environment, and I lower myself into the seemingly hotter water. That sensation is due to the temperature outside being lower than in the indoor pool room. I like the temperature difference and use it to cool myself by sitting on the side of the pool, dangling my legs in the water. I lower and raise my body into the pool many times and occasionally splash water over my shoulders and head, which I believe is foobar number 2. I am alone in the outside pool, so no one is upset.

I start to become so relaxed that I feel it would be easy to go to sleep, as I have placed the small towel behind my head and my body is slumped languorously below the water line. That is a signal I cannot ignore, so it is time to return to my room and compare notes with Lee.

When I get to our room, Lee is there. I found out that despite her concerns, her experience was positive, as she had a halting chat using English and sign language with the women there. She eventually felt comfortable and enjoyed the surroundings and ambience of the bathhouse.

The two futon bases for each of us made sleeping a much better experience.

The day begins by being dropped off by the Ryokan bus in the Kiso-Fukushima village. We have decided that we will not attempt the 3-hour walk between Yabuhara and Narai as it includes within the first three kilometres the very steepest rise of all the Nakasendo path. Lee has done very well so far, and it will be asking too much to have her struggle and ultimately not enjoy this experience of the mountains and villages of Japan. We decide to take the train past Tabuhara and arrive at Narai with time to explore the village and get into the next Inn early.

The Iseya Inn was established in more modern times (1818) at the later part of the Edo period and the Inns of yore. A train line runs between most of the villages, so some of the villages we have now trekked through are not exactly in remote locations. Therefore, these very unique locations are popular tourist destinations for day trippers and overnight stays for the Japanese. Today is no different to most. When we arrive, there are families and school children enjoying the wide main street flanked by many original Edo period buildings and some reconstructions. The originality of some of the buildings is a rarity since many of the major Temples and important culturally significant buildings of feudal Japan were destroyed in wars and by fire, and today many of the major buildings have been reconstructed using reinforced concrete but with authentic facades to look like the original structure.

Lee and I enjoy looking at the shops along the main street, and one little shop captures our interest as it sells handmade and painted chopsticks. The craftsman is located at the front of the shop, and we observe him carefully applying paint to a chopstick. Using the translating device, I asked if it would be possible to paint a name in Japanese onto the head of a chopstick. “Yes”, he replies, but he explains that we must return in five days to pick them up. That is a long time to wait, I think to myself. I ask whether it is because he is very busy with other orders. “No.” he says, “it will take four days for the paint and covering lacquer to set”. Clearly, he makes chopsticks with care and a desire to maintain the highest quality, so we both buy a pair from him.

Outside that same shop, we stand and relax as the parade of families and tourists passes us. I photograph some boys playing with water cascading from a spout into a bucket. Then the boys pushed and shoved each other as they excitedly ran towards two women standing beside us. That is enough for Lee and me to simultaneously exclaim, “Boys will be boys”. The women must have heard us and smiled at us with pained expressions as if agreeing with our assessment. Well, that was the beginning of a long chat partly in English and partly using the translating device to find out that the women were the Mums of the boys and the two more well-behaved girls standing beside them. We find out that the Mums are almost the same age as our two daughters. I counted in English to ten, and the translating device spoke the numbers to ten in Japanese; the children all smiled and giggled. I asked some of them their names, and they replied. Then I asked them what they liked doing at school. Not surprisingly, recess and playing with their friends. Lee taught them how to bump fists with an explosion of hands to finish off, and then it was time for them to continue their exploration of Narai. A great use of the translating device and a great memory of our experience along the Nakasendo Trail.

See The World

with BILL'S EYES