SHORT #28: Peace of Steam - The Japanese Sento
Homes have showers nowadays, so why are neighborhood 'community' bath houses still kind of a thing here?
There is a place in just about every urban Japanese neighborhood where you are always sure to find steam, hot water, televised baseball games, naked bodies, and sometimes craft beer. This place is called the sento — a local public bath house.
If you were to randomly land in a Japanese city, chances are you would be within walking distance of a sento. Although they have become less common in modern developments, these local bathing houses remain an enduring — and endearing — neighborhood feature in urban Japan.
At a time in the not too distant past, when Japanese townhomes were often built without their own showers, these local bath houses served an obvious utilitarian “hygenic” purpose. But why bother putting a public bath at the heart of every neighborhood these days, when homes have their own showers and baths?
Probably for some of the same reasons why the Romans insisted on ubiquitous public baths.
During our years living in Japan, we actually did need the local sento. Nearly a century old, our townhouse had no shower, no bath, no hot water. Before that experience, the thought of living without a bath tub and shower in my home had never crossed my mind. Of course not. Why would it have? Few countries that call themselves ‘modern’ would allow homes to exist without their own bathing facilities.
Yet after experiencing the neighborhood sento culture in Japan, such an idea no longer completely calculates for me. I was changed by life in our old neighborhood — forever sold on the idea that yes, even when I have to hop on my bike to get there, I would rather go to the sento than not. Even when it is snowing, or raining, or frigidly cold and windy, I would rather be able to relax in a local sento with neighbors, than alone in a bath in my home.
Before we go further with that thought, I will share the first of two drawings. It melds together features of a few different sento in and around our old Osaka neighborhood. The result is somewhat representative of the kinds of sento features you might find … at least in the Kansai region.
The sensation of time spent in a sento is not easily transcribed into words or drawings. The way that, even as a foreigner, you feel part of a place. The way that in that big tiled bath, water holding and warming you, it does for others too. The way that in the small outdoor bath, the stars and moon shine through rising water vapor, and a cool wind brings the scent of someone’s dinner from across the street. It is something one must experience, not just once, but on many days, throughout the seasons, by which point it becomes a comfortable, perhaps indispensable part of what life is.
Imagine, an entire building, in every neighborhood, dedicated to this. To sitting at the end of a day and letting your troubles melt into the steam. To bathing, detoxing, realaxing, and slowly, creating stronger communities.
That is the sento.
What a luxury. And yet one that can be afforded by everyone, so long as everyone shares it.
In its best iterations, the sento is a true communal space, where everyone can become clean, relax, maybe watch a baseball game, catch up on the local goings on, all in beautifully appointed baths filled with clean water. In the sento that are run by the younger generations, you might even enjoy a local microbrew and live music after that bathing and relaxing.
Did they have micro brews and live music in Roman baths? Maybe they did.
However it is, you can probably see here, at least some of the reasons why most neighborhoods in urban Japan continue to support neighborhood bath houses — even if everyone already has a shower in their own home.
A sento is not only about the act of bathing. Far more. One might suggest that sento are also one of the reasons why people here tend to live longer than any other country. Well, that and fermented food, and active lifestyles, and walkable neighborhoods, and certain social mindsets, and, well, okay a whole lot of other things. The point I suppose, is that a well-kept communal bath, in a community that understands and accepts the myriad reasons for using it, can serve as a positive contributor to the overall physical and mental health of a community.
Steam. Hot water. Baseball. Families. Craft beer. Naked bodies. Maybe you might be thinking, that something could go wrong here.
I would suggest, that a lot more will go right.
Thank you for reading this issue. Some of you might notice it’s a week late. Well, it’s been cold here in Korea. Very cold. So cold that it broke just about everything. Water pipes, drain pipes, plants, and my laptop. Of course, I have had a frozen laptop before, just not … literally frozen. Well. We are mostly recovered from that experience, during which I did indeed visit some Korean public baths, and I can say that the Public Hot Spring Bath at Yuseong Hotel in Daejeon is one of the best. Especially when your shower pipes are frozen. After that small ordeal, we celebrated the Great Spring Moon with music and dancing. A few plants are sprouting new growth. So go the seasons. Hope you are all well, and hope to see you again here in two weeks!
If you want to read another story before then, I recomend this one, which incidentally also involves a dragon :-)
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Hmmnnn… and here I felt so clever avoiding the public bath crowd by going in earlier. Sounds like I was missing out on the community vibe. 💜