MOONLIGHT ON SHOJI

The Kagoshima ALTs (Assistant Language Teachers) had a newsletter called the "Monthly Eruption".  It gave tips on survival and was an outlet for anyone who wanted to contribute.  The writing included tales of travel and adaptation to a very different culture.  Tones were serious or satirical, descriptive, and often hilariously funny.  This was also the best source besides word of mouth for notifications of coming events, and always we were urged to participate.  I have not yet mentioned we were in Japan before the Internet and email were widely available.  It was 1994. Moonlight on Shoji would be my first contribution.

 

Moonlight on Shoji

The isolation caused by the language barrier, the culture shock of the Westerner immersed into the East, and the homesickness for family, friends and a familiar environment certainly led one gaijin (foreigner) to question deeply why she had left the comforts of home.  Was a quest for adventure and an opportunity to explore the mysteries of Japan worth this emptiness?  The first three weeks seemed endless; the calendar days ticked off slowly, mercilessly.  She avoided streaming tears with thoughts of home pushed into a locked corner of her subconscious, intentionally repressed to keep herself from the abyss of outright depression while silently screaming – get  out there and do something!

Oh, the casual meetings with the Japanese people could not have been more pleasant, but any form of in-depth communication was cut off.  She was illiterate – couldn’t speak Japanese or read or write or understand, not even the street signs or the telephone book.

Long, long, lonely days in the office were actually a respite from the heat and loneliness of her apartment, lessened only by too frequent and too lengthy calls to the States, an expense she knew she could not continue. 

The foreign tastes, the smells of the food left her no comfort, her digestive system breaking down from the trauma, further weakening her resolve to enjoy herself.  But at the end of the fourth week a major treat was planned.  At long last she would meet some of her students, the reason she had been invited to live in Japan and leave HOME.  The planned retreat at a Japanese ryokan (inn) in the Kirishima Mountains of Kagoshima ken was for a few Japanese teachers who taught English, a Vice Principal from my main high school and about 30 students from two schools.  It would last three days.

The students and the bus trip were encouraging, the chatter mixed with hesitant English, asking questions young students would ask in any language.  Enjoying their smiles and laughter and finally hearing herself laughing was making the gaijin feel much better.

There was much laughter during her introduction and those of the students.  Breakfast, lunch and dinner were all served in tatami rooms with wooded views of lush mountains.  This means we all sat on the floor on the woven mats at long, low tables. Smoking Sakurajima was visible in the distance. (Sakurajima is a live volcano across the bay from downtown Kagoshima City.)

For the first evening, the girl students invited her to join them in the inn’s outdoor onsen (bath).  Technically the outside onsens are called rotemburo. She returned to her room to get ready, and found a delightful surprise. The table had been removed from the center of the room, and a beautiful futon with bright red down covers was fluffed and waiting for her.  “Wow, I could probably learn to like this.”

She barely had time to tie the belt on the yukata (robe) before three students came cheerfully to the door, anxious for the onsen.  They slipped into the dark night, down a fairly steep mountain path, as a full moon began its rise over the mountains, promising light and perhaps pleasure as well.

Through a clearing, down treacherous stone steps, the students led the way.  The rotemburo was natural, beautiful, steamy hot and lined with stone.  She followed the students’ example, trying to dismiss lurking inhibitions from her Western culture.  The baths were too inviting, the other girls already bathed and submerged.  (Onsen and rotemburo, inside or out are done au naturel.) She washed restfully, using a little bamboo bucket to rinse off all the soap outside the soaking pool, not hurrying, then eased into the steamy water.  Moonlight was shining through the branches above, and she gave way to pure pleasure, deep breaths of fresh air, and contentment.  

Upon returning to her room, students again leading the way, she recognized this evening would go into her bank of lifetime memorable events.  Repeating “arrigato” several times for having invited her, she said goodnight and entered her room.

She admired the inviting futon and undressed quickly after shutting the shoji (papered doors with wooden panes) to the outside world.  She turned off the light, snuggled into the downy covers, with muscles fully relaxed, almost limp.  She rolled to face the shoji.  The moonlight on the shoji was softly illuminating the precise outline of the squares on the paper; the geometric pattern was soothing.  She opened her heart, and the moonlight entered, warming her, warming her to the coming joys she could experience during her life in Japan.

 

This photo was in the Kagoshima Travel Guide, so I am sorry it is not so clear.  But this would be one of my first stops if I returned to Japan.
 

Since we were au naturel, I didn't take any photos of the rotemburo.  I am sharing a link to my favorite onsen/rotemburo that I was able to visit several times that was near to my apartment.  Whenever I went there, it was not busy, so only our small group of two to four women used it at one time.  Men had a separate one they could use, and one was available for families or couples. If you follow the link and see a video enclosed within the article, you will see why it's so peaceful and relaxing. 

https://kagoshimalove.com/midoriso-spa?lang=en#Home_Page

 

I would like to invite readers to leave comments!