JAPAN’S STEAMY LOVE AFFAIR
HOT SPRINGS ETERNAL:
LIVING alongside nature is a key theme at the Hoshinoya Karuizawa Resort, a serene property neighbouring Picchio’s lakeside research centre, opened in 1914 at the foot of volcanic Mount Asama on the site of a hot spring.
Winding around streams and connected by bridges, villas present a modern interpretation of traditional Japanese hospitality, with beds raised comfortably from the floor and a bath infused with seasonal fresh ginger and apples filled at the touch of a button.
Blazing crimson and gold, autumn colours sweep through the site, and scenes are reflected in dishes created by executive chef Eiji Inake at the Kasuke restaurant. Tucking into a tasting menu, craggyedged and salmon-pink mushrooms are part of an eight-varietal steamed medley, and black throat sea perch is grilled on pine bark to give it a woody scent.
But the star attraction is the onsen (hot spring) Tombo-noyu. Hotel founder Kuniji Hoshino took a gamble on striking gold during prospective excavations for the therapeutic waters, but in an area broiling with volcanic activity, his chances were high.
Taking an onsen is a Japanese ritual. Stripping off naked, visitors wash and relax in segregated baths. Sitting in the rotenburo (outdoor bath), I watch curled and crisped cedar leaves settle on the steaming granite rocks.
It’s a public bathing site, but guests of Hoshinoya have exclusive early morning access.
For those who struggle with communal nudity, there’s a second on-site onsen, open all night, featuring dimly lit and blacked-out 40°C chambers designed for meditation. When I visit at 1am, only a few souls float like apparitions, disappearing into their own mysterious after-worlds.
Even in the concrete chaos of Tokyo, an onsen is a place for peace and reflection – proof that there’s an opportunity to connect with nature, even when green spaces are few and far between.
The capital’s only true natural spring sits on the 17th floor of Hoshinoya’s sister property in the Otemachi financial district, and only hotel guests can enter. Inspired by traditional ryokan, rooms have tatami-mat floors and my suite is painted in ultramarine gunjo – one of the key shades used in ancient Japanese art.
The owners dug down 1,500 metres to find a hot spring source, and rocks raised from the construction now decorate a subterranean restaurant,
Hamada, where executive chef Noriyuki Hamada uses “Nippon” ingredients with French cooking techniques, and fossilised wood from the pillars of the feudal mansion that once stood here, have been used to produce plates.
At 5am, I lie back in the onsen, gazing up at a patch of pre-dawn inky blue through the open roof. In that moment, with no points of reference, I could be anywhere; city, forest or mountaintop, we share the same sky. And as raindrops burst around me, nature makes her presence heard.