Hot Springs Heaven in Hakone

Greetings from the steamy mountains of Hakone, my wellness-seeking wanderers! After weeks of non-stop Tokyo adventure, I escaped to this famous hot spring resort town, just ninety minutes from the city but feeling like another world entirely. Hakone sits in a volcanic caldera, which means the earth here is constantly releasing mineral-rich hot water perfect for soaking. As a cactus, I wasn't sure how I'd handle prolonged water immersion, but I'm pleased to report: my spines have never been softer. I may be converted.

Japanese onsen (hot spring) culture comes with protocols I had to learn quickly. First: you must wash thoroughly before entering the bath. The onsen is for soaking, not cleaning. Second: tattoos are traditionally banned (associated with yakuza), which didn't affect me but limited some of my traveling companions. Third: modesty towels exist but shouldn't enter the water. The idea is to embrace natural simplicity. I did my best to follow the rules, though several bathers did double-takes at the cactus in their midst. One elderly gentleman nodded approvingly and said, "Even plants need relaxation." Wise man.

The ryokan (traditional inn) where I stayed had both indoor and outdoor baths, and the rotenburo (outdoor bath) was transformative. Picture this: sitting in steaming mineral water, surrounded by carefully arranged rocks and manicured gardens, with Mount Fuji visible in the distance through wisps of steam. The volcanic minerals made my skin (do cacti have skin? My epidermis?) feel silky smooth. The heat released tensions I didn't know I'd been carrying. Time stopped. Thoughts dissolved. I may have achieved enlightenment, or at least deep relaxation.

Beyond the baths, Hakone offers spectacular natural beauty. I took the famous ropeway over Owakudani, the volcanic valley where sulfurous steam vents create an otherworldly landscape of yellow rocks and billowing smoke. Here they cook eggs in the hot springs, turning the shells black—legend says each black egg adds seven years to your life. I ate three. I'm now immortal. Or at least I'm choosing to believe that. The eggs tasted like regular eggs but with better backstory and significantly higher drama.

The kaiseki dinner at my ryokan deserves its own article. This traditional multi-course meal featured at least twelve tiny, beautiful dishes: sashimi, grilled fish, simmered vegetables, pickles, rice, miso soup, and seasonal items I couldn't identify but thoroughly enjoyed. Each dish was a miniature work of art, served on carefully chosen ceramics. The chef came out to explain that the menu changes with the seasons, using only ingredients at their peak. In autumn, that meant mushrooms and chestnuts; in spring, bamboo shoots and mountain vegetables. I felt nourished on a cellular level.

If Tokyo overwhelms you—and it will eventually—Hakone is the perfect antidote. Come for at least one night to experience ryokan life: onsen soaking, yukata robes, tatami sleeping, and kaiseki feasting. Book a room with a private outdoor bath if possible (many ryokan offer this for an upgrade). And don't rush. The whole point of Hakone is to slow down, breathe in the sulfurous-but-somehow-pleasant air, and remember that you are, despite everything, a creature that needs rest. Even cacti. Especially cacti. 🌵♨️🇯🇵