Leave Your Shoes and Your Body Image Struggles at the Door

On making onsens an important part of your Japan itinerary

Last month I found myself sitting in a gorgeous outdoor onsen overlooking a moonlit pond outside of Aomori, Japan. A dozen women soaking in companionable silence. And then — a squeal.
Within seconds, several women (naked as jaybirds) rushed to the edge of the bath to investigate – I had the good fortune of being one of them. A tanuki — what we in the West would call a raccoon dog — was strolling on by like an invited guest.
While these are real animals (lest you think this was our collective imagination) in Japanese folklore, the tanuki is a shape-shifting trickster and a beloved symbol of prosperity and good luck. I choose to believe ours was bringing us both.
That moment — spontaneous, communal, completely unself-conscious — is probably the best encapsulation of onsen culture I can offer. But let me back up.

What Actually Is an Onsen?

Calling an onsen a “hot spring” is a bit like calling a ryokan a “hotel.” Technically accurate. Completely inadequate.

Japan sits atop the Pacific Ring of Fire, which means geothermal water is bubbling up just about everywhere — the country is home to over 3,000 hot spring resorts and more than 20,000 individual onsen. The tradition of bathing in these mineral-rich waters goes back thousands of years, valued for healing properties and used as places of rest and recovery for hunters, travelers, warriors, and eventually — everyone.

While the gender-separated outdoor bath is the most common onsen experience, it’s worth knowing that the onsen world has range. Some ryokan offer private onsen — small baths connected directly to your room or bookable for your group alone, which is a lovely option if you’d like the experience with a little more privacy. There are also konyoku — mixed-gender hot springs — which are less common but still exist in certain regions. And in some of Japan’s more contemporary ryokan, you’ll find beautifully designed indoor baths that are every bit as restorative as their outdoor counterparts, particularly in colder months when the contrast between cold air and hot water is part of the appeal.

Many baths are set outdoors, called rotenburo, where bathers soak surrounded by forests, rivers, or mountains. The mineral composition varies by location — sulfur, sodium, iron — each offering different benefits for skin, muscles, and general human restoration.

But the real magic isn’t chemical. Japanese onsen culture rests on a belief that water can recalibrate both body and mind — not through spectacle, but through temperature, mineral content, and stillness. There are no phones. No noise. Just you, steaming water, and whatever view Japan has decided to put in front of you that day.
Oh, and no clothes. Which brings me to my next point.

Leave the Swimsuit at Home

Traditional onsen bathing is done in the nude. Full stop. There are separate onsens for men and women (except for konyoku). This is the detail that gives most Western travelers pause. We are not a culture that has made peace with our bodies, particularly in the presence of strangers—I may or may not be talking about myself.

Here’s what I can tell you from personal experience: within about four minutes of lowering yourself into the water, you stop caring entirely. Something about the heat, the ritual, the fact that everyone else is also just… there, being human — it dissolves self-consciousness in a way that’s almost startling.

Unfortunately for me, it’s a temporary fix.

While in the safety of water, I let go of my self-consciousness – the dressing room afterward was a different story. One evening, I completely spazzed out while putting on my yukata — the traditional light robe worn at Japanese inns — and could not figure out how to tie it. What followed was several increasingly frantic minutes of fumbling with fabric that seemed to have its own agenda. The more I struggled, the more self-conscious I got.
A lovely woman nearby watched this unfold. She asked — gently, graciously — if she could please help me. Within thirty seconds, she had me properly dressed, bowed slightly, and went about her evening as if she hadn’t just rescued me from myself.
That small moment of dignity — offered without a flicker of judgment — stayed with me. It felt like Japan in miniature.

The Silence That Wasn’t Awkward (For Everyone)

Onsens vary greatly in size, location, and architectural design.

At one particularly beautiful ryokan, I discovered a tiny outdoor onsen — rustic, intimate, and sized for exactly three people. Which is how I found myself sitting knee to knee in a small stone bath with two Japanese women, in absolute silence, in the Japanese countryside.
For them, clearly, this was a meditative state. Eyes soft, shoulders dropped, somewhere between here and elsewhere.

For me, it was the most prolonged social awkwardness I have ever voluntarily subjected myself to.
My pride wouldn’t let me leave. So, I stayed. And somewhere in those twenty minutes of enforced stillness, something shifted. I stopped resisting silence and started being still. Very still, and I noticed that my mind was quiet. It was lovely.

A Few Practical Notes Before You Go

Shoes — shoes (or the slippers provided by your ryokan) come off before you ever enter the dressing room. They often look like every other pair left at the door, so make note of where you leave yours.

Tattoos — many traditional onsen don’t allow them, particularly visible ones. I have a decent-sized one on my shoulder and have found that covering it with flesh-colored tattoo tape (yes, there is such a thing) is generally acceptable. If you have more than one, research ahead or look for tattoo-friendly options, which are becoming more common.

Wash first — you’ll find shower stations before every bath. Most of these consist of little stools with a faucet, a bowl, and a shower wand. This is non-negotiable etiquette. Rinse thoroughly (none of that drive-by showering before getting in the pool that we’re accustomed to).

Small towel, big purpose — you’ll be given one. It can be used to cover yourself while walking between the shower and the bath (it’s about the size of a large washcloth, so I abandoned the cover-up attempt) and can go on your head (not in the water) once you’re soaking. Pro tip — if you rinse it in cold water before putting it on your head, it helps keep you from passing out in the heat.

Go to a ryokan — if you do one thing on your Japan trip, stay at a ryokan with an onsen on property. The full experience — tatami mats, yukata, kaiseki dinner, a hot spring at midnight — is unlike anything else travel has to offer (separate blog post to follow).

Here’s what I believe: the onsen shouldn’t be an optional add-on to a Japan itinerary. It is, in many ways, a crash course in Japanese culture. It’s where Japan asks you to slow down, let go, and be present in a way that’s genuinely hard to replicate anywhere else.
Leave your shoes at the door.

Leave your body image struggles there too.

The water is waiting.

Planning a trip to Japan? I’d love to help. Start here

Christina Bowen is the founder of Wild World Travels, a sustainable travel advisory based in Denver, Colorado. She specializes in off-the-beaten-path, culturally respectful travel experiences