(My very first Onsen experience)
08 October 2025
19:15
Yol Guesthouse
Takeo City, Saga Prefecture
In the same entrance I found myself excited to try this Town’s proof of jumping back to its pre-lockdown years: Onsen is now back for business!
Takeo Onsen is a sleepy town. Like Hida City in Gifu. Two main differences are: Onsen is more famous in Takeo and Beef is better in Gifu.
In the genkan I find myself being lost with two sets of lockers: One for the outside shoes, the other for your phone and other valuables. Turned out, you cannot use your phone inside. Let alone take photos upon entering the Moto Yu bathhouse. I find myself lost, yet again, in a community of obaachans bringing their luxurious soaps and serums, their designer bags locked away with the ¥100 old-style coin locker. Turned out, yet again, I was the most morena and the most fuwa-fuwa (plumpiest) contender to do the ceremony. I was also the dumbest: I forgot my personal care set from the coin locker. I only brought my adaptability life skill and a towel strip for my hair.
At the wash area, there are two huge bottles, free to use. The Liquid body wash and the combined shampoo and conditioner are on standby. I hope I won’t get dandruff agter using these Japanese concoctions on my scalp.
While shampooing I caught myself being stared at by the obaachan on my right. Was she sizing me up? Do I look like gaikokujin enough? Even though I lacked the expertise of reading kanji, I can speak their language… nanto naku. Somehow.
When I was about to execute the script in my head with “Shiitsure desu ne,” or in Tagalog, “Nakakabastos naman ate,” a voice from my far left said something like [Going to the pool]. But with a Hakata ben — a different sound from the Far East Tokyo (and their differing Keigo or Japanglish), or the midwest Kansai region (with statements ending with a meow sound).
Ahh. These obaachans must be friends.
After my intense wash and multiple use of the little basin to acclimitize my overweight physique, I fixed my hair. Then I covered it with the mini towel I brought, And finally, dipped my legs to the 44 celsius Onsen heat. It stings at first, not being used to the very hot pool, together with the risk of being easily dehydrated. Its first three minutes a painful reminder that we do not have this back home — that little posporo condo got no built-in heater in the shower — because I don’t want my electric bill to balloon with my never-ending mortgage! Then comes that soothing comfort, a scene from the anime shouting “woooh!!! kimochii!!!” and then the pause, just chilling and watching the steam take away the fatigue and the bad vibes.
The obaachan from before is about to join me in this large hot pool, yet stationed herself on the opposite end, sitting beside her “friend” (neighbor, perhaps?). Other obaachans went to the cooler section, their backs very red from where I am now seated.
These obaachans, I wonder if they do this regularly? Do they establish a routine of onsen trips? And if they do, won’t they feel awkward?
If Tricia and Lyra and I plan a trip together and go to an onsen as a culminating itinerary and a test of companionship, will they be absolutely delighted? Or will they respond with the polarizing take — being terrified? Aba’y paano na ang test of friendship na yan? Lol. Maybe at this point, it will be harder for it to come true, since both of them are already married — and one of them already have a boy having random fits of kakulitan and temper tantrums.
And maybe instead of waiting for the “culminating itinerary”, I went for it and experience the onsen in solitude.
ALONE X TOGETHER: A beauty that is transient and fleeting in a shared space. Sobremesa can be a nice ring to it, although the spanish loan-word is more apt to a dining table, a perfect setting to the current ordeal of writing a creative nonfiction with a Spanish-Japanese haafu eating bento in front of me. Konbanwa, ate!
I’d like to link this little onsen adventure as a wabi-sabi experience. After all, taking a bath is supposed to be a solitary activity. But onsen made it more unique, akin to a sense of community. Without speaking to each other, you share the same desire of removing fatigue and the same challenge of scrubbing your own back with the little towel one tows upon sliding the door open to the huge hot basin.
Flashing back to the logistics of the hot bath, one obaachan said she’ll go ahead and dry up. Upon standing I saw her very red back, her skin as perfect as the newly-cooked shrimp. Meanwhile, I stared at my legs and it looked like a perfectly roasted chicken: a reddish-brown specimen ready to be eaten. Ano raw?! Hahaha tama na nga! Hmn! I got myself changed and hair dried. Upon buying a cold bottle of fanta I saw the other obaachan and shouted “Oi! Ikku da tou!” Not directed to me, but to an old man watching the weather forecast for the next day, his wet hair too close to the TV.
And after a little post-onsen foot massage for ¥100, I exited the place.
Sleepy, yet tottemo satisfied.
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