Counterattack of the Dreamer

I can’t believe it took me over 10 days to get into a public bath here.  Hitting the hot spring used to be one of my favorite pastimes in Tokushima,  and I took it seriously enough to develop a pretty nuanced routine of tea bathing, cold bathing, and sauna rotations.  But ye olde hot spring is a bit harder to come by in Tokyo than out in the mountains of rural Shikoku, so the siren call of steamy relaxation has been a bit less pressing.

Today the mood struck me, however, so I set out in the evening for a post-dinner ice cream snack and the short walk to Bath Land Eifuku, a public bath (not a hot spring, but similar).

Bath Land Eifuku

It’s an unassuming establishment, clearly frequented exclusively by locals.  Nothing flashy here to draw people from outside of the immediate vicinity.  They don’t even provide soap and shampoos in the washing areas, something I had grown accustomed to back in Shikoku, so I had to be satisfied with a thorough rinse.  What they do have, that I had yet to experience in my time in Japan, was an electric bath.  It’s the section in the middle shown here:

The Electric Bath

I had heard about electric baths before, and always wanted to give them a shot.  It’s a pretty simple concept: passing electricity through the water to achieve what the brief passage above the tub describes as “a pleasant tingly sensation.”  I must admit being a bit intimidated though, a fact for which I believe the reader will forgive me upon consideration of the courage required to electrocute oneself while naked in public in a foreign land.

As such, I initially sat in the massage bath section (on the far right in the picture), and stretched a tentative hand into the electric bath nextdoor.  I immediately thought that I had grievously misinterpreted the phrase for “pleasant tingly sensation” as my forearm flooded with throbbing electric sensation, my fingers twisted inexorably into a claw, and I was left with no recourse but to violently fling my arm free of the devil water and glance sheepishly around to see which of the old naked men in the vicinity had noticed.

In hindsight, a few seconds of throbbing terror should have been enough for me to wash my hands of the electric bath and focus on the parts of the Japanese bathing experience that I know I enjoy.  Those who are close to me, however, will know that I usually need to do something stupid at least twice before I learn my lesson, and today was no exception.  I got it into my head that the reason my forearm throbbed so strongly must have been because I was forcing all the electric current in the water through that one, narrow extremity of my body.  Surely if the same amount of electricity were passing through my entire body at once, I reasoned, the diluted effect would resemble the pleasant tingle I sought.

I thus popped my entire body into the electric bath and promptly experienced quadriplegia.  I do not recommend it.  There was no dilution of electric sensation, waves of shuddering pain flooded my torso, both of my hands curled into claws, and I lost the ability to breathe.  Fortunately I came to my senses soon enough, mustering the effort to heave my unresponsive limbs out of the path of the electricity.  I huddled, briefly, sent a betrayed glance at the words “pleasant tingly sensation,” and resolved not to try the electric bath again until my next visit.