Stories from a Japanese mountain village: typhoons and getting naked

It is typhoon season in Japan. Typhoons here occur the most from July to October, especially in August and September.

A typhoon is an extensive low-pressure system, originating over the Northwest Pacific Ocean. It is accompanied by strong winds of up to around 200 km/h, a rise of the sea level and torrential rainfalls. Over the Atlantic Ocean, typhoons are known as hurricanes.

There are on average 26 typhoons a year in the world. Around 11 will draw close to Japan, and about three will hit the Japanese main islands, especially Kyushu and Shikoku, where I am located.The biggest dangers posed by typhoons are landslides and the sudden rise of water levels.

Last Sunday, I woke up suddenly around four am. The wind and rain were strong, and I could feel the apartment shaking. A door shut loudly with a sudden gush of wind through a window.

I remembered I had laundry outside that I had done the day before, so I went to grab it and bring it in. I didn’t want my socks and underwear to fly into the rice fields! I had this picture of me finding them after the rain, or worse yet, my neighbours bringing them to me, one by one!

At six am, there was the usual Ochi town chime, but at regular intervals, there were announcements in Japanese, which I couldn’t understand for the most part, and it made it hard to sleep in. I heard the word typhoon, but I don’t know what else was said. It probably had to do with typhoon season, what community activities were cancelled, and to be careful going out.

In typhoon season, not all days are menacing. There can be several sunny bright days mixed with these days with high winds and heavy rains from morning to night, which usually occur on the weekends for some reason.

Even on the stormiest days of typhoon season, it seems fine to go to work and employers expect employees to go in. It reminds me of working in Ottawa, Canada, with heavy snow and ice storms, which would close most cities down in North America. But in Ottawa, workers are often expected to be hearty and resilient and go in if they can, and some even may boast that they are better at handling winter storms than other cities.

As I was having my breakfast and coffee, a friend texted me to ask if I wanted to go with some friends to an onsen, which is a Japanese hot spring. I replied with an enthusiastic “yes” because I love the onsen.

While the threat of earthquakes are a part of every day life in Japan, the volcanic mountains also provide the country’s treasured geothermally heated springs, which are rich in restorative minerals. There are around 2,300 officially recognized hot springs spread throughout the major islands of Japan.

I initially thought with the heavy rains and winds, I should stay in, but I felt cooped up being inside most of the week at work, and visiting the hot spring sounded like the perfect activity on an overcast, wet day.

We had clear conditions as we drove through the beautiful green mountainside following the Niyodo River, which winds through Kochi prefecture in a deep valley. There are brightly coloured bridges in some places and sometimes large rocks jut out of the water, creating strong whirlpools.

The excessive rainwater during typhoon season makes the river rise quickly, turning the usually calm crystal-blue waters to violent gushing corridors of murky-brown, caused by disturbances of silt from the riverbed bottoms. Steep mountains with vibrant green cedars and bamboo envelope the valley, with houses dotting the green. It was incredibly beautiful!

We arrived at the Yunomori onsen in Niyodo River town. It was lovely with almost no one there, probably because of typhoon season and the heavy rains on and off. I went with my woman friend to the women’s section, and the men went to theirs.

This is where we must follow the rules of the onsen that were started hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years ago. Everyone in a Japanese bath is naked.

Some say to truly understand the Japanese, you need to get naked with them while in hot mineral water. The bath is a great equalizer where rank and title are stripped away and each bather is expected to offer an equal degree of respect and regard to one another.

You get completely undressed in front of everyone else. Then you sit on a small stool and wash with soap to get really clean. You are either given a small towel, need to get one from the vending machine, or you can bring your own.

You can try to use the towel as a fig leaf and cover your private parts, which are not so secret in a public space and makes you really stand out like a foreigner. Or, you can follow the suit of bathers that are naked and often place the towel on their heads, use it as a small pillow, or sit on it in the sauna. The cloth is never put in the water as this is considered unsanitary.

At Yunomori, there were deep bathing pools filled with hot mineral-rich spring water, one inside and one outside. The outside bath was big enough so several can sit in it, it was mostly covered, and there was a nature setting facing it. When the rains would come in with a vengeance, the winds and cold water drops would be cooling and refreshing on my face and shoulders.

When I would get too hot from the bath, I would lie out on one of the lounge chairs outside that was partially covered. The raindrops, mist and wind cooled me down and was refreshing. I kept on switching between both. The more I did so, I became relaxed, peaceful and sleepy, enveloped with a haze of happiness.

The rain started coming down in thick and heavy sheets, so much that you couldn’t see outside. But in that spot outdoors, the world was perfect.

That day at the baths made me reflect on my life and typhoons. Why do we resist our lives as they are sometimes?

We want things to be different, better, and more perfect. We wait for the perfect moment that never comes. But if this is our lives, with the weather we didn’t want, the work that frustrates us at times, and disappointment over not having the perfect partner, then what do we do?

Why do we spend our time, energy and focus on wishing things were different, including ourselves? Asking for what we want is important because it points us in the direction we want, but in getting to where we want, what do we do?

I’m learning that only through immersing our lives in the now, and being present with it, in all its chaos, stickiness and ugliness at times, can we find our way out. The more that we try to escape where we are now, the more that we suffer because we create a drama and narrative in our minds, which often generates negative emotions and fear.

If we stay in the present and see what is before us, only then, can we begin to see what is inside us that does not change and is always beautiful.

In our lives, there are waves of rain that repeatedly return and bring water. We can look at this water that comes as unfavourable, a burden, and destructive. Or, something that is natural, cleansing, nourishing and part of life.

We don’t have the choice whether it rains or not, but we do have the opportunity of the perspective we want to take. If we root this perspective from our hearts, it is always love, and we can dance in the rain, or get naked at the onsen.

“ We are the sky, and everything else is the weather,” says popular Buddhist teacher, author and nun Pema Chodron. I experienced this at the onsen during typhoon season. A perfect day in what some would call imperfect weather.

Originally published at http://carolineishii.com on September 30, 2019.