By Adam Brownstein – Tokyo, Japan – May 1, 2024
One early Spring afternoon in the crux of my university days I found myself in close quarters with two middle aged couples who were wearing smiles and nothing else.
Their nudity was completely appropriate given the five of us were taking in the hot springs and, in our case, the sauna stations of the quaint town of Bad Ischl. Nestled along the ICE train line in between Innsbruck and Vienna, Bad Ischl was famed for the curative waters that bubbled up from the deep in in the Austrian Alps. It was a well-regarded stop on my Let’s Go Europe 1992 Edition and had been pretty tame prior to my econtre naturale.
Removing my towel to “fit in” I dispensed with my full arsenal of German pleasantries.
“Wie get es ennen?” I inquired, seeking to know how they were doing this afternoon.
“`Deer`, young fellow!” chuckled one of the women, beads of sweat pouring freely from her brunette brow. “You can use `deer` rather than `ennen` to be less formal!”
“Ah,” acknowledged. “Well, alright. Wie get es deer???”
“Prima!” bellowed her blond friend.
“Fantastik!” retorted Blondie’s bearded and bespectacled husband.
Having broken the ice, or the sweat, as was the case at hand, I mustered on with my very poor German.
“Wie est das weter huete mein fruenden?” I pried, curious how they felt about the nudey after weather.
My line of questioning was met with grinning approval, and I felt very much one up having conquered my fear of naked schvitzing with total strangers. Exiting the sauna to the spa gardens, I felt the chilling embrace of mountain air. All around me were snow capped peaks of the Salzkammergut Alps, with gingerbread villages dotting their foothills.
I transitioned to the indoor public pool of Bad Ischl, brimming with salty hot springs water and happy bathers. Unlike the sauna, the pool required swimwear and was thus favored by families and bashful folk like this reporter. At the side of the pool hung a substantial plaque indicating that the good waters of Bad Ischl had been in the business of curing the bad humors of society as far back as when Hohenzollerns were running the bingo. It turns out that’s not that long at all.
Indeed, hot springs and other inland attractions have been the source of human vacations for more than a millennium. It is said that Charlamagne himself used to hang out in the hot waters in Aix-la-Chapelle (Aachen in present day Germany) during his great reign of 742-814 AD. Sometime around 1550 AD Queen Elizabeth I was rumored to be gaga for balth salts, and may have visited the namesake town of Bath so beloved by her ample father, Kenry Henry VIII.
In more ancient times around 550 BC it’s said that Cyrus the Great, Persia’s “King of Kings”, fancied a menagerie of hunting grounds and hanging gardens. Maybe the hot pursuit of game and sweet aromas of lilac and mir helped to frame his magnanomous mindset. For it was the same King Cyrus who sought to deeply understand the people he conquered, respecting their customs and, in the case of we Hebrews, ending our exile in Babylon and mandating the vision of the Second Temple.
Of course, here in Japan the local folk have been soaking up the volcanic bliss of onsen for some time. The Nihon Shoki (“Chronicles of Japan”) note that hot spring holidays dating back to the 8th Century A.C.E. The mountain holiday vibe caught on even more with the cool burgeoning nobility class during the Heian Period of 794-1185 AD. Onsen were not only a welcome respite from the toils of daily life but often a safe and neutral meeting ground for rival samurai clans. Who knew that brewing up a batch of man soup could help forge the path to peace!
You would think that heading out to the beach would have an equally long and distinguished provenance. In fact, sun-soaked holidays are a relatively new thing for humans. Prior to the 18th century, the shorelines of the world’s great civilizations attracted population centers of course, but they were more for nautical trade and marine fishing than for sweet elixirs appointed with tiny paper parasols.
It wasn’t until a mildly eccentric English doctor named Demetrius White started to prescribe sessions of vigorous submersion in the briny ablutions near Brighton, Sussex that people began to head to the beach. According to popular legend, King George III’s enthusiasm for oceanside holidays helped to cross the chasm to the great masses. (Perhaps his majesty needed therapy after losing the Revolutionary War to a bunch of plucky colonies.)
The 19th Century saw a mild ramp of beach holidays, but with the advent of air travel, the 20th Century made the seaside accessible to millions of holiday makers in the post-war years.
Here in Japan, folks have long embraced seaside getaways, particularly in the post-war era. The archipelago is blessed with varied sorts of beaches to suit young and old alike. Most famous among these is Okinawa, known for its subtropical climate, clear waters, stunning coral reefs, and, in the case of my progeny, Blue Seal Ice Cream (yes, Banana Suzanna!). Further towards Taiwan lie the charming and somewhat contested Ryukyu Islands like Miyako-jima and Ishigaki. And in the Kanto Region around Tokyo urbanites like to pile into their Nissans and onto the Odoriko Line for short summer sojourns to nearby Shonan, Enoshima, Kamakura, Hayama and, our family favorite, South Shore Rally in Minami Boso, Chiba.
In many ways, though, the great Japanese coastal holiday lies far, far away . . .
In 1954, less than 10 years after the conclusion of World War II, Pan Am inaugurated the first direct commercial flight from Narita to Honolulu. During that decade Japan’s nominal GDP growth clipped along at 8%-10% annually, moving it from a top 20’ish economy to a solid top 10 by 1960. With it, came the rise of a middle class who sought out the wonders of Waikiki from luaus to leis. In the early 1960’s Japan Travel Bureau (known today for the last remaining brick-and-mortar travel desks on the planet), began to offer package vacations for families and honeymooners looking to soak up the sun and wolf down some pineapple. By 1970, the Japanese economy sat at the global podium at #3, and Japanese travelers made up the largest foreign source market for the Great State of Hawaii.
For people in Japan, the desire to set sail for the Hawaiian islands abides. Japan continues to be Hawaii’s top international source market, despite decades of stagnation and the present quasi-crisis afoot with the Yen. As I write this, we are in the midst of the Golden Week season here in Japan. A cluster of late Spring public holidays (Showa Day, Constitution Day, Greenery Day and, my favoriter, Children’s Day), Golden Week features long lines at the check-in counters at both Haneda and Narita, and more than a dozen daily flights to Daniel K. Inouye International Airport.
During Spring Break this year, I got to experience the Japanese love affair with Waikiki up close. The day school let out Megumu, the kids and I boarded the charming ANA “Sea Turtle” A-380 livery, touching down in Honolulu at daybreak. From the first caress of island breeze, I felt a deep sense of calm. Not even a long wait to secure our giant SUV rental could break the Aloha vibe that now held sway over my entire brood.
What followed was a wondrous week of family hikes on the Manoa Trail, pilgrimages in search of the best huli huli chicken on the North Shore, longboard surfing, jaunts to Sephora for our teenage daughter, gentle runs under the noble gaze of Diamondhead, hours spent in the chilly Sheraton Waikiki pool and salty banter over meals at Heavenly Island and The Pig & The Lady.
Better still, we were joined for much of our holiday by Nana Linda and Poppy Neill, who were in the throes of a grand tour to honor Poppy’s 80th “Oak” birthday. Their presence enlivened our time together with coffee klatches, storytelling and ice cream show downs between the proletariat 31 Flavors and more it kid KITH Treats.
Hawaii, more than even LA or New York, serves as a kind of bridge between Japan and America. According to the most recent U.S. Census Survey, 15% of Hawaiian residents note some degree of Japanese ancestry. When you compound this with people from Japan who are working in Hawaii and the steady feed of tourists from Japan, there is an air that feels familiar and different all at once.
At one point, during spells of reading the Ibis Trilogy and napping on my lounge chair, I began to dream of actually living in Hawaii. A quick Google query indicated that there were three shuls on Oahu alone, and of course, a Chabad House on nearly every inhabited island. I could spend my salad days running the Honolulu Marathon each December and writing my memoirs under a palm tree. Ahhhhhhhhh.
I once asked an old friend from Yokohama what it is about the Hawaiian Islands that people love so much.
“It’s iyashi,” he noted with a smile.
“What’s that?” I queried.
“Iyashi . . . it’s hard to describe, but easy to feel. The closest translation is “healing”. It’s the whole Hawaiian thing. The beaches, the volcanos, the aloha shirts, the pineapples, the yoga, the moco loco. All of it. We Japanese, we love that vibe!”
Aloha.
The Tokyo Yenta 