Bathhouse Madness
Tonight I treated myself to a visit at the Sento Spa which is two streets away from Tour Club and behind another big-arse temple. Lots of Japanese go to bathhouses if they don't have a bath at home. Sento Spa seems to be a popular hang-out and gossip-house for the local elderly women of Kyoto. I entered the changerooms where lots of old women were undressing and cackling away in a rather contagious manner. They had me smiling immediately and several charming ladies helped me out and instructed me in the art of the Japanese bathhouse.
First get a basket in which to put your precious things then stow on the shelf. Then collect bucket and stool and proceed to the shower. Grab scratchy loofah towel thingy and scrub all of one's bits until they are bright red and are about to fall off. Then fill up bucket and throw over oneself. Repeat 10 times. Then make your way through the several spas on offer, including:
+ the ｕｌｔｒａ－ｖｉｏｌｅｎｔ spa:ｙｅｓ， ｔｈｉｓ ｏｎｅ ｈａｓ ａ ｌｉｔｔｌｅ ｗａｖｅ ｍａｃｈｉｎｅｙ ｔｈｉｎｇ ｔｈａｔ ｆｅｅｌｓ ｌｉｋｅ ｔｈｒｅｅ ｇｉａｎｔ ｓｕｍｏ ｗｒｅｓｔｌｅｒｓ ａｒｅ ｐｕｍｍｅｌｌｉｎｇ ｙｏｕｒ ｂａｃｋ ｗｉｔｈ ｔｈｅｉｒ ｆｉｓｔｓ． Ｌｅａｖｅｓ ｏｎｅ ｂｒｕｉｓｅｄ ａｎｄ ｓｌｉｇｈｔｌｙ ｖａｇｕｅ．
＋ ｔｈｅ ｉｃｅｌａｎｄｉｃ ｓｐａ： ｔｈｉｓ ｏｎｅ， ｄｅｓｐｉｔｅ ｔｈｅ ａｂｓｅｎｃｅ ｏｆ ｉｃｅ ｆｌｏｅｓ， ｉｓ ｄｉｒｅｃｔ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ Ｎｏｒｔｈ Ｐｏｌｅ． Ｉｃｅ－ｗａｔｅｒｆａｌｌｓ ｓｐｏｕｔ ｆｒｏｍ ｌｉｏｎ’ｓ ｍｏｕｔｈｓ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｗａｌｌｓ．Ａｌｌ ｔｈｅ ｅｌｄｅｒｌｙ ｗｏｍｅｎ ｓｈｒｉｅｋ ｌｏｕｄｌｙ ｗｈｅｎ ｓｕｂｍｅｒｇｉｎｇ ｔｈｅｍｓｅｌｖｅｓ ｉｎ ｉｔ． Ｔａｋｅｓ ｍｅ ａｂｏｕｔ １０ ｍｉｎｕｔｅｓ ｔｏ ｓｕｂｍｅｒｇｅ ｗｈｏｌｅ ｂｏｄｙ； ｅｍｅｒｇｅ ｓｌｉｇｈｔｌｙ ｓｈａｋｙ ａｎｄ ｒｅａｄｙ ｔｏ ｋｅｅｌ ｏｖｅｒ．
＋ ｔｈｅ ｌａｖ ｐａｐｅｒ ｓｐａ： ｔｈｉｓ ｏｎｅ ｉｓ ｐｕｒｐｌｅ ｉｎ ｈｕｅ ａｎｄ ｓｍｅｌｌｓ ａｌｏｔ ｌｉｋｅ ｐｅｒｆｕｍｅｄ ｌａｖ ｐａｐｅｒ （ａｓ ｄｏｅｓ ｔｈｅ ｆａｎ Ｉ ｂｏｕｇｈｔ． ｗｈｅｎｅｖｅｒ Ｉ flutter it about I think of Sorbent and labradors).
+ the electric bath: yes, I got a shock too. A bloody big one. When the key around my wrist came into contact with a certain bathroom tile, I received such a jolt as to cause another quake in Tokyo. Nearly swooned in shock. Electricity + baths = BAD.
My body has never been cleaner and in more shock than it is now. Stumbled back to Tour Club with a body like jelly and received many bemused looks from businessmen and women cycling home.
First get a basket in which to put your precious things then stow on the shelf. Then collect bucket and stool and proceed to the shower. Grab scratchy loofah towel thingy and scrub all of one's bits until they are bright red and are about to fall off. Then fill up bucket and throw over oneself. Repeat 10 times. Then make your way through the several spas on offer, including:
+ the ｕｌｔｒａ－ｖｉｏｌｅｎｔ spa:ｙｅｓ， ｔｈｉｓ ｏｎｅ ｈａｓ ａ ｌｉｔｔｌｅ ｗａｖｅ ｍａｃｈｉｎｅｙ ｔｈｉｎｇ ｔｈａｔ ｆｅｅｌｓ ｌｉｋｅ ｔｈｒｅｅ ｇｉａｎｔ ｓｕｍｏ ｗｒｅｓｔｌｅｒｓ ａｒｅ ｐｕｍｍｅｌｌｉｎｇ ｙｏｕｒ ｂａｃｋ ｗｉｔｈ ｔｈｅｉｒ ｆｉｓｔｓ． Ｌｅａｖｅｓ ｏｎｅ ｂｒｕｉｓｅｄ ａｎｄ ｓｌｉｇｈｔｌｙ ｖａｇｕｅ．
＋ ｔｈｅ ｉｃｅｌａｎｄｉｃ ｓｐａ： ｔｈｉｓ ｏｎｅ， ｄｅｓｐｉｔｅ ｔｈｅ ａｂｓｅｎｃｅ ｏｆ ｉｃｅ ｆｌｏｅｓ， ｉｓ ｄｉｒｅｃｔ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ Ｎｏｒｔｈ Ｐｏｌｅ． Ｉｃｅ－ｗａｔｅｒｆａｌｌｓ ｓｐｏｕｔ ｆｒｏｍ ｌｉｏｎ’ｓ ｍｏｕｔｈｓ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｗａｌｌｓ．Ａｌｌ ｔｈｅ ｅｌｄｅｒｌｙ ｗｏｍｅｎ ｓｈｒｉｅｋ ｌｏｕｄｌｙ ｗｈｅｎ ｓｕｂｍｅｒｇｉｎｇ ｔｈｅｍｓｅｌｖｅｓ ｉｎ ｉｔ． Ｔａｋｅｓ ｍｅ ａｂｏｕｔ １０ ｍｉｎｕｔｅｓ ｔｏ ｓｕｂｍｅｒｇｅ ｗｈｏｌｅ ｂｏｄｙ； ｅｍｅｒｇｅ ｓｌｉｇｈｔｌｙ ｓｈａｋｙ ａｎｄ ｒｅａｄｙ ｔｏ ｋｅｅｌ ｏｖｅｒ．
＋ ｔｈｅ ｌａｖ ｐａｐｅｒ ｓｐａ： ｔｈｉｓ ｏｎｅ ｉｓ ｐｕｒｐｌｅ ｉｎ ｈｕｅ ａｎｄ ｓｍｅｌｌｓ ａｌｏｔ ｌｉｋｅ ｐｅｒｆｕｍｅｄ ｌａｖ ｐａｐｅｒ （ａｓ ｄｏｅｓ ｔｈｅ ｆａｎ Ｉ ｂｏｕｇｈｔ． ｗｈｅｎｅｖｅｒ Ｉ flutter it about I think of Sorbent and labradors).
+ the electric bath: yes, I got a shock too. A bloody big one. When the key around my wrist came into contact with a certain bathroom tile, I received such a jolt as to cause another quake in Tokyo. Nearly swooned in shock. Electricity + baths = BAD.
My body has never been cleaner and in more shock than it is now. Stumbled back to Tour Club with a body like jelly and received many bemused looks from businessmen and women cycling home.
posted by Miss Ember at 8:53 pm
1 Comments:
glad your ok - Stu mentioned the 'bath incident' last night I was concerned!
xxx
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