When I waltzed into an onsen in Aso, I was immediately accosted by a woman saying, "No shoes! No shoes!" I apologized and took my shoes and socks off, replacing them with my thongs. As I walked back in, she again accosted me, saying, "No! No!" I looked down and noticed that she was barefooted. "Ah, hai!" I said, slipping off my thongs and setting them beside my shoes. Realizing at that point the level of ignorance she was dealing with, the hostess guided me down the hall toward two entrances. I fervently hoped that she had said, "Black is man" because that's the entrance I chose, as opposed to the red one.
Once inside the locker room I looked for some affirmation--a urinal or something--but could find none. I hesitated getting undressed; then opted for the swimsuit. Having committed two blunders in less than a minute, I sure didn't want to go prancing into the women's bath waving the flag of anarchy, as it were. Presently, an old man shuffled into the locker room waving his, so I knew it was safe to go sans suit.
Onsen culture is highly ritualized, first showering in the private stalls, then entering the tile-lined pool for a very hot soak. From there it's over to the cold pool for rinsing, and out to the spring-like pond lined with stone. The mineral content of the water in Aso is very high, and it did wonders for my neck, sore from carrying camera and computer bags. When you're done soaking, it's out to bask in the shade-dappled sun, towel neatly folded across your lap, and attempt languaging with another old man, this one grinning like a buddha. Finally, it's back to shower where, sitting down on a little bum-shaped stool, you soap up and rinse off before dressing.
While I thoroughly enjoy co-ed hot springs, it's nice to be able to go au naturel and simply enjoy the ritual. I imagine the women feel likewise.
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