A Sleepless Journey through 3 Japanese Concepts
By: Amman Waseem
Tags: Japan, Storytelling, Culture, Travel, Philosophy

Gaman (GAH-man) — Whether it’s putting up with an unpleasant situation to avoid disturbing the wa, or enduring the pain of a broken bone with no more than a painkiller, people in Japan are often asked to gaman, or grit it out, as a matter of character building.

To put it appropriately, I felt like a Dragon Ball Z character being transported via space-pod. The cylindrical white elevator had a trapezoidal window that looked out onto the futuristic, grey layers of Tokyo’s cityscape as we leveled up.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a heap of shoes, robed patrons all in white, and a carpeted lobby with a ceiling only 7 ft tall. I took off my shoes, slipped on the white linen sandals provided, and stepped onto the fluffy hotel lobby.

Am I in the wrong place? Have I already passed out? What do fluffy carpet hallucinations even mean?

Speaking to the hotel concierge, I came to learn a few differences between Japanese capsule hotels & western hotels.

When you enter a traditional capsule hotel, you are given a two-piece robe to wear, a few clean towels, and a bracelet key that you must wear at all times. You are not allowed to wear shoes anywhere inside the capsule hotel, hence the linen white slippers. Lastly, its explained that you have to “check out” every time you leave the hotel & give an estimated time of entry… which I found to be odd.

After getting my keys, I tried to drown out Sonic’s voice and made my way to the 7th floor.

As the elevator door opened, the flickering capsule lights and clinical interior design told me that I had not come to the futuristic hotel I had seen online. It looked like an American laundromat but instead of washing machines, there were capsule beds.

What I Expected

What I Got

Stark white, dimly lit, 3ft by 3ft entry pods — about 400 — on my floor (8 floors total). Most of them unoccupied. It reminded me of the population regeneration rooms you often see in Sci-Fi movies or a well-maintained mortuary. Given my current physical condition, it seemed almost appropriate.

Walking cautiously forward & checking each pod’s number, I found mine on the lower level and crawled inside.

The walls of my “room” were light metallic brown. I was sure that my childhood golden Nintendo gameboy had been transformed into a 3 x 3 x 8 capsule. This was both a dream come true and a nightmare. A small tv is bolted directly in the top right corner towards my feet. The only channel available is sumo wrestling.

Coughing, watching my forehead, I gathered the customary white capsule robes & scrambled out on all 4 limbs to look for the promised land for all travelers — a hot shower.

It was about 7 in the evening & the hallways were mostly deserted. Rows upon rows of unattended luminescent capsules and dark hallways.

In Japan, capsule hotels have been stereotypically used by Japanese salarymen who may be too drunk to return home safely, have missed the last train of the day to make a return trip home, or are too embarrassed to face their spouses. I assumed that my brethren would show up later on since it was still quite early.

I spent 15 minutes looking for a restroom sign until I took a chance on an unmarked, hexagonal-glass door.

Inside looked more like a brothel, than a shower. Naked Japanese men roamed the halls. All falling in line towards a steamy door that continuously shut & opened with more exposed individuals. It was a 24 hour gym with no regulations and all the patrons happily showed off their endowments. I slowly began to receive glances in my direction — outsider. I had not seen any other tourists in this capsule hotel and I was beginning to realize that my tendency to choose a cheaper option may have resulted in choosing an older, traditional Japanese capsule hotel.

Exploring inside, there seemed to be four rooms within this “restroom”. Two rooms I had seen before — A room with regular sinks for brushing your teeth & the bathroom with urinals. However, there were two rooms which were not so common place. The first was a room with a lowered sink with all the faucets replaced with extendable shower heads and lined with small colorful stools. Here, I glanced that many of the Japanese men sat down on the colorful stools & washed themselves before heading into the second room — The “hot tub room”. It seemed like a sauna but one in which all the naked patrons gathered around and bathed together.

Many men dipped in and out of the hot-tub, talking casually, & washing themselves in conjunction. For western eyes, this was an odd site but honestly it looked very relaxing.

After a few minutes of anxious pacing, I checked with the hotel front lobby for a shower and they explained that this hotel only has the traditional Japanese bathing facilities — Sento.

Sento is a type of communal bathhouse and bathing style in Japan which requires a formal washing, communal bathing, and drying procedure. Sento communal bathhouses exploded in popularity in Tokyo after WWII since resources were scare. However, many now go to bathe, connect with their community, and enjoy a peaceful, vulnerable time rejuvenating their senses. I began to wonder how life would be different if the melting pot of American human geography utilized Sento on a daily basis.

Sento — a traditional Japanese Bathhouse

Now listen, I’ve had to bathe myself sitting down in Pakistan with cold water but I’ve never done it while another man is sitting right next to me. Truth be told, I wanted to experience this cultural process but feeling sick, still seeing yellow shapes, & highly insecure of my hairy body jumping into action alongside traditional Japanese businessmen, I decided to hold back for now.

In defeat & disgust of my own bodily mustiness, I retreated back to my capsule.