The scent of sulfur can stir memories, so I’d anticipated my usual hot spring experience, only to be met with water so soft and mild, with a temperature akin to body heat, that my mind began to relax. Or so I thought.
This is Obuse Onsen.

Whether the ¥600 bath, half the price of a taxi, is expensive or cheap is debatable, but I can’t deny a faint sense of melancholy at this facility, one of countless health-resort-style places that have sprung up in provincial cities, with its somewhat unsophisticated ambiance.

Drawn by a massage half the price of those in the city, I peeked inside, but politely declined when I saw the therapist sitting on a massage machine, working on themselves.

Hmm? The way they speak… could it be they work even here? A few elderly women, likely from Southeast Asia, walked past, chatting cheerfully while carrying plastic bags. A brief respite? They must be working hard every day. I hope they have a wonderful New Year.

Oh, there’s an open-air bath too. But these stairs to get there are quite cold. Inside, three people were already in the small bath. Were they sleeping? Two men lay sprawled out, seemingly dozing. The third, the youngest man, or rather, a visually impaired person, appeared lost in thought. “Lovely bath, isn’t it?” he said. In the distance, mountains could be seen. That alone offered a small solace. The soft, lukewarm water seemed to foster a languid passage of time, but the city grime I carried was thicker than I’d imagined, making it hard to fully immerse myself. I recalled the taxi driver’s question: “Which one would you prefer?” “There are two?” I asked. “Yes, the old one and the new one.” This was the new one. I decided against the old one. The path to a leisurely hot spring dip is not so simple, it seems.



← Diary-T 189–194