Calming waters . . . the serene setting of Asaba ryokan.
SPECIAL PROMOTION
Danielle Demetriou finds a rejuvenating retreat and a buzzing beach scene on the izu peninsula.
Standing naked at sunrise on the fringes of a steaming pool of water, around me a tangle of bamboo forest blends into a patchwork collage of blossoming cherry trees, wisteria and camellias. I'm not embracing the serenity, however; I'm staring at the flimsy white cloth in my hand. It's just fractionally larger than a handkerchief yet invested with a substantial task: protecting my modesty from potential embarrassment - for the fourth time in 24 hours.
It doesn't take long for a visitor to Japan to realise that getting naked in public is legal when it involves the onsen, or hot springs, bath culture. Inhibitions aside, slipping into an outdoor bath filled with piping hot volcanic spring water is genuinely soothing. Among the best places to indulge in springtime onsen culture is Izu Hanto, a mountainous peninsula south-west of Tokyo that cocoons countless onsen villages complete with family-run inns, known as ryokans, and ancient Shinto shrines. The peninsula's coastline of white sandy beaches is enticing, too - its modest waves a magnet for a growing surf community.
Best of all, Izu may feel as though it's a million miles from Tokyo's crowds, yet it's less than three hours by train from the capital.
I take the train to Shuzenji, a village where old stone paths wind through narrow streets past wooden houses and bamboo forests and where red bridges lead to shrines and Buddhist temples. In spring, couples dressed in matching cotton yukata kimonos, supplied to guests of local hotels, clip about the streets wearing traditional wooden sandals.
Asaba is among the nation's most pristine and best-preserved ryokans, the entrance of which is marked with a simple split curtain hanging above a white-and-black pebbled entryway, known as a genkan. Asaba opened in the 17th century and has been in the same family for 10 generations. They offer guests a handful of artfully simple rooms decorated with paper lanterns, tatami mats, low lacquered tables, delicate sliding paper screens and asymmetric flower arrangements. Rooms face an expanse of mirror-smooth lake surrounded by a rich wall of greenery buzzing with birds. At the lake's centre is an intricately carved, floating wooden stage where performances of traditional Noh musical dramas are staged.
At Asaba, my epic bath-a-thon includes a string of steaming hot onsen, from communal hot pools fringing the lake to private wooden bathtubs in a room overlooking the gardens. Several restorative baths-with-a-view later, during which I abandon any hope of that little towel protecting my modesty, my skin glows pink beneath my cotton kimono and Tokyo is long forgotten.
In ryokan style, dinner is no simple affair: in the privacy of my room, I am served about a dozen dishes of exquisite seasonal delights, from local vegetables to river fish, each dish presented as artfully as a calligraphic stroke. Later, a futon appears unrolled on the tatami-mat floor of my room, paving the way for a deep, warm slumber.
I leave Shuzenji as I arrived, by train, and head to the peninsula's southern coast past swaths of purple plum trees, yellow rape flowers, pink azaleas and red rhododendrons. The end of the line is Shimoda, a small port city surrounded by mountains and bathed in brilliant sunshine.
Shimoda's small stores are piled with stacks of oranges grown on nearby groves as well as countless wasabi products, a local specialty. At the port itself, alongside flotillas of boats lie rows of fishing nets. It may all seem like a typical fishing village but Shimoda's relaxed, almost parochial, ambience belies the significant role the town has played in Japanese history.
It was here that Commodore Matthew Perry arrived with the US Navy in a flotilla of black ships in 1853, an event which in turn ended Japan's isolation from the outside world. A replica of the vessel that carried Perry takes modern-day visitors on harbour cruises, and every May Shimoda hosts a three-day Black Ship Festival.
A short taxi ride south of Shimoda takes visitors to vast white beaches surrounded by farmland and mountains. I make a beeline for Kisami Ohama beach, with its California-style vibe among surfers. Kisami Ohama is popular with Tokyoites keen to escape summer humidity, too, and the peninsula has a wealth of celebrity holiday homes.
I drop my bags at White Beach, a former love hotel converted by a Tokyo design firm into simple yet hip accommodation, before heading off to explore on an old bicycle provided by the hotel.
I find myself breathless while pedalling the peninsula's steep, winding coastal roads until I descend into Toji, a village where time appears to have stood still and retro-looking noodle bars line the seafront. I order noodles and sink into a chair, staring out over the sea while waiting for my food to arrive. Later, I'll venture into the water; however, this time I won't be naked.
FAST FACTS
Getting there
Japan Airlines (jal.com.au) and Qantas (qantas.com.au) fly direct from Sydney to Tokyo (about 10 hours). From Tokyo, take the Odoriko limited express (ideally the double-decker Super View Odoriko) to Shuzenji (about two hours). Another option is to take the Shinkansen bullet train from Tokyo to Mishima and change to the Izu Hakone line.
Staying there
Asaba, 3450-1 Shuzenji, Izu-shi, Shizuoka-ken, 410-2416, has rooms from ¥75,900 a person, half board. Phone +81 558 72 70 00.
White Beach Hotel, 1902 Kisami, Shimoda-shi, Shizuoka-ken, has doubles, room only, from ¥8000. Phone +81 558 23 20 39; see whitebeach-shimoda.com. White Beach also has learn-to-surf packages with board and wetsuit hire.
While there
Shimoda's 20-minute Black Ship cruise costs about ¥1000 and departs every half hour.
Phone +81 558 22 11 51.
More information
See jnto.org.au.
This series of articles sponsored by the Japan National Tourism Organisation.
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