A Luxury Ryokan in Shuzenji, Japan
There we were, sitting on the floor staring at each other in the uncomfortable silence, screen-less, distraction-less, bored. We were doing it. We were fully present in the moment, and the silence was almost oppressive.
We were on a mission to escape the overstimulation of our senses from staying in Tokyo. Many tourists and locals in the area retreat to the nearby resort town of Hakone where they can soak in hot spring baths, ride the pirate ship across Lake Ashi, and snap photos of the famed floating tori gate at Hakone Shrine.
I, however, was determined to find my zen in a more remote area, devoid of tourist traps and attractions. In my search, I discovered a Ryokan called Yagyu no Sho tucked away in the remote village of Shuzenji in the Izu peninsula. We left that morning from Tokyo and had planned to stop in Yokohama first for lunch.
Despite traveling half a day for one precious night of peace, we arrived and found ourselves unable to let go of distractions and to just relax. How do people do this? I thought. How do they sit and do nothing on vacation?
We had been there less than ten minutes before the boredom set in. My mind was a constant stream of thoughts, unable to slow and be present.
Another five minutes passed when Jeremy gave me the look. I had my camera out of my bag before he could even finish saying, "let's go exploring before dinner".
Yagu-no-sho entrance is humble and unassuming, but inside, it’s rooms are spacious and luxurious. Our patio view included a small pond with koi and bamboo garden.
How do people do this? How do they sit and do nothing on vacation?
Exploring Shuzenji
I followed behind Jeremy through dimly lit corridors, my ill-fitting slipper shuffling across the uneven stone floors. Outside, I felt light mist kiss my face. The air smelled sweet with dew and honeysuckle. We passed under the willow tree out front and turned left, back toward the train station.
Our path meandered, the sound of rushing water growing louder. We followed the river, passing houses and small neighborhood shrines, over a red bridge until we saw a young bamboo forest on the edge of the river. The dense green stalks towered 15 feet in the air. We took our time snapping photos, grateful for a moment in the fresh air. As raindrops began to fall on our lenses, we packed our cameras and hustled back to the Ryokan.
A traditional Japanese dinner
It wasn't more than 10 minutes after we arrived back at the room before our first course appeared in front of us. We sat on the floor and watched in amazement as our server kneeled in a beautiful pink kimono, placing each dish with precision on the Chabudai, a short legged Japanese table. Soon enough, small bowls, plates, and mugs covered the surface, each one containing just a morsel of artfully crafted bites, made with local ingredients. I wanted to dig in immediately, but took a moment to enjoy the different shapes, colors, patterns, and textures of each dish.
We took our time, sampling each item. Some things were mysteries, while others were obvious. Just when we thought we were done, the dishes kept coming. We graciously accepted each course with the limited Japanese we knew: “Arigato gozaimasu”.
Post dinner hot spring soak
The server finally closed our door one last time. Our stomachs were overstuffed but satisfied. I was eager to enjoy my first hotspring bath. I quickly de-robed and washed myself before climbing into the outdoor bath. The water burned as I inched my way into the stone tub. The farther in I went, the more I floated. I laid my head back and exfoliated my feet against the rough walls of the tub. For the first time in days, I felt at peace. I watched the last of the light recede from our private little nook.
The Ryokan bathroom and connecting shower that leads to our private outdoor hotspring bath
The tension between my shoulder blades relaxed and the dull ache in my knee subsided. Jeremy came in soon after, and the two of us sat in silence, watching the steam rise from the still pool.
We spent the rest of the night on the bamboo balcony, watching the koi fish swim in and out, greeting us at the edge of the pond. All was quiet except for the occasional tail splash and the light sound of crickets off in the distance.
For the first time in days I finally felt at peace.
Thoroughly relaxed, we crawled into our soft, futon mattresses and drifted off into a deep sleep.
The next morning came too quickly. After a 10-course breakfast, we packed up our bags and waited for a taxi. It was difficult to say goodbye to that bath and that perfect view.
