Yesterday I completed a walk across a few peaks of the Daisetsuzan National Park's mountain ranges, including and finishing with Asahidake, the largest peak in Hokkaido.
The hostel on the Asahdake side had a hot spring on-site, which meant that I would have my very first onsen experience. Since I am obviously not a "water baby" as was pointed out by my travel companion and clown partner (I think I hold more Earthbender potential), my appreciation of the hot spring was in doubt. It needn't have been.
For Japanese onsen, one of the main things is that one washes before entering the hot spring, which makes a load of sense; you don't want other people's dirt and crud floating around in a pool of hot water making some Jonathan Swift's Nightmare soup. I felt that it made the aftermath feel even more relaxing and therapeutic: you're already clean, you soaked in a hot pool, and now your pores are open, sweating a cleansing sweat.
I had the marvelous experience of being the only one in the men's onsen at the time. This particular onsen was open-air, so as I looked up, I could see more stars than I am usually able to see at night; I saw an amount of stars closer to the amount I am comfortable seeing.
And I sang. I sang "Transatlanticism." I sang "The Scientist." I sang "The Beautiful Ones."
I sat on my heels, body weight not being an issue with my knees in a hot spring pool. I breathed and meditated before I sang and between songs. I massaged my calves and feet. I spent a half hour in the hot spring and then I left to dry off and head back to my room to prepare for an early turn-in at 10pm.
Onsen? I like.
The hostel on the Asahdake side had a hot spring on-site, which meant that I would have my very first onsen experience. Since I am obviously not a "water baby" as was pointed out by my travel companion and clown partner (I think I hold more Earthbender potential), my appreciation of the hot spring was in doubt. It needn't have been.
For Japanese onsen, one of the main things is that one washes before entering the hot spring, which makes a load of sense; you don't want other people's dirt and crud floating around in a pool of hot water making some Jonathan Swift's Nightmare soup. I felt that it made the aftermath feel even more relaxing and therapeutic: you're already clean, you soaked in a hot pool, and now your pores are open, sweating a cleansing sweat.
I had the marvelous experience of being the only one in the men's onsen at the time. This particular onsen was open-air, so as I looked up, I could see more stars than I am usually able to see at night; I saw an amount of stars closer to the amount I am comfortable seeing.
And I sang. I sang "Transatlanticism." I sang "The Scientist." I sang "The Beautiful Ones."
I sat on my heels, body weight not being an issue with my knees in a hot spring pool. I breathed and meditated before I sang and between songs. I massaged my calves and feet. I spent a half hour in the hot spring and then I left to dry off and head back to my room to prepare for an early turn-in at 10pm.
Onsen? I like.
Mmm. Sounds heavenly.
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