Floating in the Ofuro

For the untrained, getting here takes some courage. I absolutely fall into that camp. But once you immerse yourself in the water, you never regret it.

As I sat—shoulders submerged, eyes closed—I felt tangibly lighter. Have you ever been subjected to the Kohnstamm phenomenon? Maybe you have without realising it, if a friend has ever shown you a “magic trick” that causes your arms to involuntarily float. Anyway, this is how my arms felt. The dripping sound was metronomic. Steam filled the entire room. Around me was complete silence.

I was scared there would be others around to witness the nakedness of it all, and actually there were a few people, but after a moment of panic, the onsen stigma fades and you realise that this practice is sacred in Japan for a reason.

An onsen is a specific type of natural hot spring bath, enjoyed traditionally in Japanese. An ofuro is more common; a wooden bath sharing the same onsen customs, just without the underlying hot spring source.

The word itself (お風呂) translates to bath, but actually 風呂 is also acceptable. The お is an honorific prefix. I find this to be a fascinating nuance in the Japanese language. This prefix elevates selective nouns, adding a respectful tone, politeness, and signally hierarchy. For me, it helps to understand the societal importance of certain objects, such as sushi (お寿司) and tea (お茶).

But morphology aside, Japanese bath culture is a fantastical experience. This ofuro also happened to have an ice-cold bath as well, which may not seem appealing after spending the day in the snow, but does absolute wonders for your body. Contrast therapy is great always, but was taken to another level here.

All this is to say—afterwards, I felt incredible. Calm. Rejuvenated. Relaxed. The experience itself was spiritual. I see the vision.

It takes some self-talk, but it is absolutely worth it.