Indulgence

I head deeper into snow country to Takaragawa, in the mountains of Gunma Prefecture by a combination of train and bus. The outdoor bath (rotenburo) there is Japan's most famous. Surrounded by snow laden trees, I cross a planked bridge to the wooden bathhouse at the spring. Steam rising, the scene has the feel of a Kurosawa movie.

The small towel traditionally used by guests at Japanese baths is too small to cover your privates front and back, so like most fellow bathers, I throw caution and my derriere to the wind when making the excursion between hot springs and bathhouse. At springs such as this one where the sexes bathe together, some women break from tradition and use larger bath towels. For the shy of heart, hot springs with mixed bathing almost always have a separate bath available for women. At this one, a statue of Buddha keeps a benevolent eye on the women's bath.

While many hot springs are restricted to guests at the inn or hotel, others, such as those at Takaragawa, are open to the public for day visits. Hot spring towns also have public baths available at a nominal fee. You can help keep your budget in check by traveling by bus and train, the latter on a Japan Rail Pass.

While Takaragawa is known as grand champion of the outdoor bath, one of the finest indoor baths in Japan can also be found in Gunma Prefecture at the Choju-kan Ryokan in Hoshi. Carved from chestnut, beech and Japanese cedar, the bath there soothes bathers with 110 F degree spring water containing calcium and magnesium, which, among other things, is said to be good for those who suffer with bouts of hysteria. Most guests seem normal, except for those who occasionally sing out and listen for the haunting echo off of the beamed wooden ceiling. Perhaps it's just an indication of the shackles of civilization coming off and deep relaxation setting in.

After the most restful of sleeps in the simple ryokan room, the next morning comes too soon. It's time to head back to the 21st century. Hopefully the transition will be a gentle one.

While Bergman and Bogart will always have Paris, I know I'll always have Takaragawa and Hoshi. These nomenclatures might not sound as romantic or roll as trippingly off the tongue, but once visited, they can induce a blood pressure lowering Pavlovian reaction at their mere mention.