We’re now half way into September and Japanese summer finally appears to be on its way out. The past month or so has been an interesting one to say the least. The second wave of COVID-19 cases hit hard at the end of July, although they currently seem to be simmering back down again. The government has introduced a highly controversial campaign to encourage domestic travel, whereby it will reimburse Japanese residents up to fifty percent of their travel costs. Initially Tokyo was excluded from the campaign given its status as a corona hotspot, but as of 1st October, Tokyo residents (myself included) can get their hands on some of these deals. Tropical islands, here I come!

Of course, the most notable recent headline has been Prime Minister Shinzo Abe’s announcement that he will be resigning due to his chronic bowel condition. It really hasn’t been a great year for the world’s indecisive male leaders, though I can’t help but feel a little sorry for old Shinzo. He’s been scrutinised a lot since the pandemic began and his heart-felt press release involved a tired and emotional apology to his people for his inability to fulfill his duties. This is something we undoubtedly will never see from our leaders in the western world.

So as I was saying, summer is on its way out and with it goes the sticky, humid weather. Unfortunately so do the beach trips, the days spent drinking in parks and the air-conditioned train carriages; however, these are all things that I am willing to give up in return for my favourite activity: the sento.

A sento is a public bathhouse. You can find them all over Japan, and it just so happens that there is a rather famous one ten minutes from my house, which is called Kosugi-yu. Sentos are beautiful, old buildings, usually run by a family and passed down from generation to generation. The interiors are clean and wooden, with sliding doors and a large mural across the back wall, which more often than not depicts Mount Fuji. Kosugi-yu is no exception to this.

Peak time seems to be in the evening when people come for a post-work soak. I’ve been once at around 8pm but I was slightly more crammed into the baths than I would have liked, so now I try to go earlier in the day when I might even get a bath to myself. Today I naively thought if I arrived at the opening time then I would have at least a few minutes to take some pictures of the interiors before any of my nudist companions arrived. The queue of ten bathers that I met outside the door brought me back to reality. The only picture I was permitted to take was of the sketch below. This is a very accurate depiction of the interior, which no doubt does Kosugi-yu more justice than a cheeky iPhone snap would have anyway.

Sentos are central to many communities and hold a special place in Japanese hearts. A city as big as Tokyo can often lose touch with its sense of community but the sento revitalises this. Each one has its regulars, many of whom are elderly people who use it as their main form of daily social interaction. For us prudish Brits, stripping down with your friends and soaking in a bath for a few hours might seem like an odd way to catch up, but it’s tradition here and it’s a really beautiful one at that.

The Japanese have an expression, “hadaka no tsukiai”, which loosely translates to “naked communication”. It’s a liberating form of interacting with people whereby social standing and hierarchy do not come into play. No one is rich and no one poor and no one is anyone else’s superior. Inside the steaming walls of the sento, you are all naked and you are all the same.

Unless, as is true in my case, you look like a foreigner. I am vaguely conscious of the stares that come my way as I walk naked into the sento. And whilst you can go year-round, I have made the personal decision to avoid soaking in the summer months. My most recent humiliating experience came after a day trip to the beach, whereby I stepped out of one bath with my painfully crimson burn lines and proceeded to faint from overheating in the middle of the room. I looked embarrassingly foreign and felt like a hot, pink fish out of water. It’s now exclusively an autumnal and winter activity for me.

Despite the initial self-consciousness, I have come to love my time in the sento. The varying bath temperatures and pressure pumps, the calming noise of running water and hushed chit chat is a form of meditation in itself. Phones are unsurprisingly forbidden, so there are absolutely no distractions from the outside world. I have never felt as relaxed (yet simultaneously as far from home) as when I am shivering with my knees to my chest, shoulder-to-shoulder in the 15 degree bath with six naked old ladies.

The next reason that I think the sento experience is so important is body image. Effectively, you are in an enclosed space surrounded by many other naked ladies. You might not want to, but you can’t help but look at some of them. The diversity in body shapes is a reassuring break from the constant unrealistic body images thrown on us by the media. No one in the sento looks like they’re out of a magazine and no one cares. Everyone has their own bumps and lumps and flabby bits and getting naked with the rest of them has absolutely helped me throw my own insecurities to the wind.

Today was the first time I have seen children in the sento. The two girls who were probably about five or six didn’t actually bathe, rather they ran around laughing with towels on their heads whilst their mother had a bit of time to herself. They also unapologetically stared at the women around them and I thought how nice it was that these two girls will grow up knowing how women’s bodies actually look rather than how movies and magazines like to portray them.

To conclude, I am a massive advocate of the sento. I don’t imagine I’ll have many visitors within the coming months, but it is definitely an experience not to be missed by anyone travelling through Japan.