Beppu, Japan’s hot springs capital

The small, countryside town appeared to be nothing but a playpen for Japan’s dime-a-dozen office workers, the sarariman (literally the Japanese pronunciation of “salary man”), or a dismal yet generic destination for any package bus tour covering this section of the country.

I observed that after arriving at Beppu with a group of eight or 10, a sarariman’s leisure schedule went something like: 1.) Soak in the business hotel onsen (hot spring) bath; 2.) drink and play with the girls at one of many local hostess clubs until sunrise; 3.) in no less than five hours return back to the office desk.

Package tour folks had the luck of being ushered to all eight boiling hot springs, Jigoku, or Hells, for supposedly to-die-for photo ops. Afterwards, they were taken for a night of onsen and alcohol at one of several popular ryokan (Japanese-style bed and breakfasts). Yes, after two months of living here, I did hold a bit of disdain for its visitors, and presumably had the "hot spring capital of Japan" all figured out...

Masuda-san and Chikuzenya Sansou

From the get-go I knew about Beppu’s fame for leading the world in its amount and variety of its hot spring waters. Embarrassingly enough, I couldn’t have cared less: The springs were tarnished in my eyes, worthless unless one was a jaded sarariman or milquetoast package tour sap. Having come to Beppu on a university scholarship, the demands of Japanese academia, not to mention karaoke and alcohol binges, seemed to outweigh any further research on my part into the onsen.

After six months of glamorous university dormitory life, I moved to a guest bungalow in the Kannawa section of Beppu, one of the eight famed onsen sections of the city. That move officially inaugurated my onsen fixation. Dipping into the bungalow’s indoor onsen bath (called an ofuro), or an outside onsen bath (a rotenburo), I discovered a pleasant, nature-induced state of relaxation. Moreover, after an evening bathing session, I would be found happily squirming and stretching in bed, relishing the springs’ delightful physical effects upon the muscles. I soon became, to no dismay, an onsen addict.

Adding to this pleasant environment was the abode’s owner, Masuda-san, a woman truly like no other, quite easily the sweetest and most energetic obachan (elderly lady) west of Tokyo. She did aerobics, could communicate in fine English and proper French, loved flowers and gardening, and happily welcomed almost any friendly and/or polite foreigner to stay at her establishment. She rented-out the two second-floor rooms of her house for a small fee of 3,000 yen per person per night – a steal in these parts – and her Chikuzenya Sansou (Mountain Bungalow) for 50,000 yen a month, and for a nominal price would cook up a fresh, hot Japanese meal.

From Kannawa’s bus stop downhill to Chikuzenya Sansou, it took a brisk five-minute walk through its quaint streets and alleys. Walking down the narrow main road and through patches of sulphuric, yet healthy-smelling, onsen steam, I could see numerous small ryokan and a handful of lazy cats lining the road. Ryokan guests dressed in their yukata, or Japanese-styled casual robes, were likewise seen strolling about.

Thanks to my daily Kannawa strolls, I picked up on several unique cultural constructs surrounding Japanese onsen bathing. One such was the Yangu Senta ryokan of Kannawa, a leisure palace for those in their golden and silver years -- indeed a unique cultural construct. Even though I had never set foot inside, I still loved the place.

The Yangu Senta

Frequented by a ubiquitous freewheeling class of Japanese seniors, the Yangu Senta, to no shock on my part, derived its name from the Japanese pronunciation of "young center" – a slight hint at this ryokan’s purpose for existing. Marching past it for the first time, its brightly colored entrance, decorated with billboards of young kabuki actors, looked more like a cheap pornography theater than a leisure house for the elderly. Day after day on my way home, through its large front window I would catch a glimpse of a karaoke hall lined with tables of sake bottles, give or take a few ojiisan (elderly man/grandfather) and obaachan (elderly lady/grandmother) lounging about.

I have fond memories of evening strolls back to Masuda-san’s bungalow, where from the Young Center’s window I was serenaded to the sounds of drunk ojiisan wailing out karaoke tunes from their past. A noise that may have sounded incredibly perturbing to the average passerby, for me it became a sound of comfort and reliance. The wailing drunk ojiisan, and this wily class of seniors, did no such harm to me, nor to Japanese society; they were completely accepted, a reason why leisure establishments such as the Young Center prevail all over Japan.

Perhaps the grandest thing of all was the seniors’ carefree, no-holds-barred take on life, unseen among many of their Western counterparts. With a kabuki theater, karaoke hall, plus the essential onsen, I concluded that circa 2040 I would pay a visit to Beppu, Japan, where at least I knew there was a place to be loud, obnoxiously drunk, and free-spirited in all my elderly glory. Nevertheless, there were far better places I was soon to discover in Beppu – those being its natural hot springs and ryokan.

Umi, Yama and Rotenburo

Tsurumi Peak - courtesy, Beppu City Guide

My realization of Beppu onsens’ environmental beauty did not come about until I was pressured by Masuda-san to fully explore the onsen and rotemburo. One of my first onsen outings took me on a hike up past a graveyard, in between two mountains and down into a small, secluded valley with rotemburo springs in the middle. Other outings took me to one of many tranquil, privately owned onsen, over-looking Beppu city from a mountainside; I once heard someone call Beppu a small umi-yama (ocean-mountain) town, which explains the views from it perfectly.

Blasted guidebooks!

There was a wealth of onsen and ryokan waiting to be discovered in Beppu the moment I conquered my prejudices. Indeed, the descriptions of Beppu in several English guidebooks did add to my negative presumptions; one highlighted aspect of the city in the guidebooks was, astonishingly, the Beppu Sex Museum, an attraction certainly not worth mentioning in comparison to the enormous amounts of ryokan and onsen they failed to ever mention. I, disappointingly. was asked way too many times by a random foreign traveler, “Know where the sex museum is?” But really, who could blame him?

Note: For anyone interested in staying at Chikuzenya Sansou, or just exploring Beppu, please go to the Beppu station international tourist counter, ask for "Masuda-san" and/or "Chikuzenya Sansou", and you will be promptly directed.

James Vernon was a fourth year student at Ritsumeikan Asia Pacific Univresity in Beppu, Japan, when he wrote this article. He majored in Asia Pacific Studies with a focus upon travel and tourism.