When Miming Leads to an Onsen

I’ll never forget the day that a Japanese Obaachan [grandma] helped me undress. It was the day I decided to hit up one of the infamous onsens [hot baths] that I had heard of since my arrival two weeks prior. Though my Japanese was non-existent, nothing could go seriously awry, right?

A woman was sitting, tapping her nails on the counter as I approached the wooden desk. I simply said, “Onsen?” She responded by handing me a couple towels and a key, took my 500 yen and waved me away from the desk and out of her jurisdiction. Standing there, I glanced around. Seeing a door in the only direction I could head, I started moving awkwardly towards it and came across a sign that had a woman’s figure on it. I stepped through it.

A weird rotten egg smell and a lot of blinding white greeted me. I was staring at rows of gym lockers – aha, the key – with a group of low-hanging showers in front with removable showerheads, each with a small white chair beside it. Off to the side were 3 doors that I assumed led into the baths…and the sulfuric odor. I started towards the lockers, only to stop, turn towards the showers, stop completely, glance around, and finally beeline towards the bath doors.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my arm and jumped. A sweet, petite Obaachan – completely nude – had been watching me prance around. She dragged me to the lockers, pointed at my clothes and then the locker that had the same number as the key in my hand. I undressed, turning a slight tinge of rose as the Obaachan stared on. As I closed the locker with my clothes inside, the Obaachan snaked her arm inside to grab the little towel. Staring at it dumbfoundedly, the Obaachan reached out to put the towel in my hand and guided it to cover my pelvic area.

She then gently pulled me towards the shower area, pushed me into a seat and proceeded to mime showering. As I did this, the Obaachan made sure I washed all parts of myself well, sometimes reaching over to redo a certain area, causing my skin to turn a rusty red. After completing this to Obaachan’s standards, she waved me towards the bath doors with a smile.

I sat sitting soaking up all the hot water and letting my body relax and turn the darkest shade of red yet – fire engine red – and couldn’t help but smile too. While I may have been uncomfortable with Obaachan staring at me as I undressed and showered, I had successfully navigated – albeit awkwardly – my new home and found something amazing that I knew would become a weekly ritual.