This really moved me. I love how you describe sento not as something to consume, but as a place to belong. When I last visited Japan, I made it a point to visit sento and onsen whenever I could—both the everyday ¥550 neighborhood baths and the more “luxurious” ones around ¥1,500. The difference was clearly visible, but what stayed with me was that both had their own kind of warmth.
Your reflection helped me understand why. The sento warmth came not just from the water, but from the quiet sense of community and shared presence. The contrast you draw between commons and consumer spaces really resonated, especially the story of the elderly woman. Thank you for such a grounding and humane New Year reflection.
Redevelopment, gentrification, elitist consumerism, replacing old neighborhoods with high-rise condos and mix-use glass-and-concrete monsters... I hope this is not the end of Tokyo.
I enjoy small local suburbs’ sento with saunas. Great community feel. Thanks for supporting “sento” movement. Guess one day someone will create Sen’tou. Where tou is political party 党(:
I'm right with you on the value of being "dividual", Sam. Great word. I believe that in this hyper-individualistic age people inwardly crave real connection with place and people. Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution have made us this way, and no amount of digital "friendship" will change that. That sauna description is frightening in its embrace of the dark side as a natural corollary to its services, and its vision of both work and rejuvenation as solitary. I hope the very young ones who come to Inari-yu will keep the communal bathhouse experience in their neural pathways as a kind of vaccine for their future.
This is a wonderful insightful post, but so sad that the young couple perished in a sauna due to negligence. I’m reminded of the sauna in Yanaka that became an art gallery.
This really moved me. I love how you describe sento not as something to consume, but as a place to belong. When I last visited Japan, I made it a point to visit sento and onsen whenever I could—both the everyday ¥550 neighborhood baths and the more “luxurious” ones around ¥1,500. The difference was clearly visible, but what stayed with me was that both had their own kind of warmth.
Your reflection helped me understand why. The sento warmth came not just from the water, but from the quiet sense of community and shared presence. The contrast you draw between commons and consumer spaces really resonated, especially the story of the elderly woman. Thank you for such a grounding and humane New Year reflection.
Redevelopment, gentrification, elitist consumerism, replacing old neighborhoods with high-rise condos and mix-use glass-and-concrete monsters... I hope this is not the end of Tokyo.
I enjoy small local suburbs’ sento with saunas. Great community feel. Thanks for supporting “sento” movement. Guess one day someone will create Sen’tou. Where tou is political party 党(:
I'm right with you on the value of being "dividual", Sam. Great word. I believe that in this hyper-individualistic age people inwardly crave real connection with place and people. Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution have made us this way, and no amount of digital "friendship" will change that. That sauna description is frightening in its embrace of the dark side as a natural corollary to its services, and its vision of both work and rejuvenation as solitary. I hope the very young ones who come to Inari-yu will keep the communal bathhouse experience in their neural pathways as a kind of vaccine for their future.
This is a wonderful insightful post, but so sad that the young couple perished in a sauna due to negligence. I’m reminded of the sauna in Yanaka that became an art gallery.