{"id":272089,"date":"2025-04-11T10:29:45","date_gmt":"2025-04-11T10:29:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/globetimeline.com\/ar\/culture\/rewrite-this-title-in-arabic-inside-japans-most-beautiful-bathhouses\/"},"modified":"2025-04-11T10:29:46","modified_gmt":"2025-04-11T10:29:46","slug":"rewrite-this-title-in-arabic-inside-japans-most-beautiful-bathhouses","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/globetimeline.com\/ar\/culture\/rewrite-this-title-in-arabic-inside-japans-most-beautiful-bathhouses\/","title":{"rendered":"rewrite this title in Arabic Inside Japan\u2019s most beautiful bathhouses"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic For many, sento are still a vital part of daily life in Japan, each\u00a0governed by a strict set of\u00a0customs. For centuries these gender-segregated bathhouses have acted\u00a0as ritualistic community spaces, meeting points and places for contemplation and relaxation. But numbers have fallen drastically in recent decades: from almost 18,000 bathhouses in the 1960s\u00a0there remain only around 2,000 across Japan today. In recent years, these bastions of traditional living have become the focus of a\u00a0new energy as efforts to preserve, revitalise and celebrate their cultural value have put them back at\u00a0the\u00a0centre of communal life.Unlike outdoor onsens, which are built on natural hot springs, sento are situated indoors, typically fed by tap water and featuring high ceilings to let the steam rise to the roof. They\u2019re often found in residential areas and vary depending on location, history and ownership; Miya-zukuri, for example, are traditional wooden bathhouses, architecturally similar to temples and shrines. \u201cThey were\u00a0constructed by skilled carpenters who took extra pains to\u00a0do their best work, gaining the respect of the neighbourhood,\u201d says activist Sam Holden, who co-founded Sento &amp; Neighborhood in 2020, a not-for-profit that works to protect and promote these endangered institutions. Super\u00a0sento are large, commercial spas with added services such as massage treatments and restaurants.Sento can be traced back as far as the sixth century, when spiritual purification by way of water was part of Buddhist and Shinto practices. Communal baths were initially found in temples but gradually spread, becoming accessible to the general public. Edo (modern-day Tokyo) welcomed its first sento in 1591, providing an essential daily service for a growing population living in cramped quarters without private baths. During the Edo period (1603-1868), Sento culture flourished and became the heart of neighbourhoods, a space for socialising and gossip. \u201cMost people lived within a few hundred metres of one, and they were places of intergenerational communication,\u201d says Holden. \u201cChildren would be watched or scolded by other community members\u201d and the sento contributed to the growth of \u201cstrong local networks\u201d. As the economy boomed after the second world war, private bathrooms became increasingly common and the demand for bathhouses diminished. Faced with high maintenance and running costs, ageing proprietors are struggling to find willing successors to take them over, and the survival of sento has become a common cause.\u00a0One man in particular has been a pivotal force in reviving and preserving the bathhouse; architect Kentaro Imai has refreshed 23 public baths in Japan, recharging tired interiors with new but respectful designs. Imai started using bathhouses in his early 30s, becoming a regular patron. \u201cAt the time I simply chose to live in a room without a bath to save on rent, but this led me to realise the value of public baths,\u201d he says. With his interest piqued, he\u00a0established Kentaro Imai Architectural Office in 1998.\u00a0Imai designs each project around a specific tailored concept. Goshiki-yu sento in Tokyo is a healing space, with its lighting and colours based on the yin-yang and five-elements theory (fire, earth, wood, metal and water). Fukuno-yu, situated in a traditional temple area in the north of the city, invites good fortune; it is infused with auspicious elements and draws inspiration from fusumae \u2013 traditional sliding doors painted with beautiful designs. Yoshino-Yu, in the east of the city, boasts a small courtyard garden (tsubo-niwa) and veranda (engawa) \u2013 features of older wooden sento that were mostly replaced by the coin-operated laundries that provided the bathhouse owners with a secondary source of income.In addition to these restorations, however, a new breed of sento is emerging, reaching a broader customer base and often reimagined as trendy hangout hubs with\u00a0added amenities aimed at a younger demographic. \u201cFrom the outset, I was looking for a new community that\u00a0wasn\u2019t a club or a bar,\u201d says Jo Nagasaka, founder of\u00a0Schemata Architects, which has revamped two bathhouses in Tokyo. Both offer craft beer, saunas and even a DJ booth for music events.\u00a0Schemata\u2019s Kogane-yu and Komae-yu bathhouses \u2013 the latter was completed in 2023 \u2013 both sit on the ground floor of reinforced concrete, multistorey apartment buildings. Within the bathing areas themselves, a partition wall separates genders but leaves a gap at the top \u2013 true of all sento. \u201cIt\u2019s not as structurally stable but it is convenient for families who can call out to each other to check if they are ready to get out. Or perhaps to feel each other\u2019s presence on the other side of the wall,\u201d says Nagasaka. For Kogane-yu, Schemata\u2019s first project in 2020, the firm was asked by third-generation sento owner Takuya Shinbo to redesign the space for young Tokyoites. The result feels industrial-chic: lockers are made from birch plywood, porcelain beige tiles (representing the human body) cover the floors, and walls are tiled or concrete. Nagasaka commissioned artist Iichiro Tanaka to create noren \u2013 split curtains \u2013 for the entrances of the changing rooms and baths, and manga artist Yoriko Hoshi to paint a mural of Mount Fuji.Expansive, decorative artworks are one of the defining features of sento, giving the eyes a place to wander. It\u2019s a highly specialised craft and there are only three sento muralists working in Japan at this\u00a0moment. \u201cIt requires a deep understanding of the space and a particular speed of execution so that a bathhouse is only closed for one day,\u201d says Stephanie Crohin, Japan\u2019s sento ambassador and the author of three books on the subject. \u201cMost of the muralists today have trained under the last generation of\u00a0masters.\u201d The scenes and landscapes depicted can depend on the region; in Kant\u014d, which encompasses greater Tokyo, towering paintings of Mount Fuji are common. \u201cIt symbolises good fortune and tranquillity,\u201d says Crohin, who has visited more than 1,000 sento and has seen portrayals of local landmarks, tiled copies of Magritte and Renoir, and paintings of Swiss castles.Mieko Watanabe, the founder of architectural and interior design firm wAtelier, describes her Kuwamizu project as both a bathhouse and art gallery. The sento is situated in the city of Kumamoto on the island of Kyushu, and local designer Toshinori Yonemura was tasked with creating vignettes of a nearby lake, painted on Japanese cypress-wood louvres. \u201cWalking in, the picture is hidden from view, but it unfolds and evolves as the bather sits, stretches and soaks, defying the perfect vantage point,\u201d says Watanabe. This 2020 public bathhouse, with\u00a0a soaring ceiling and grey terrazzo floors, was constructed in a private house. The area had suffered from a major earthquake, leaving many without homes. \u201cAccess to baths after such disasters makes you remember that you are Japanese. The steam and soap suds wash away the sweat and sorrows of the day,\u201d says Watanabe.\u00a0Sento are synonymous with community. The Japanese use the expression hadaka no tsukiai (\u201cnaked communion\u201d) to describe the intimacy of a shared bath that enables open and honest conversation. Stripped of clothes and hierarchies, bathers of all ages, incomes and backgrounds soak side by side. It\u2019s all part of the egalitarian spirit. \u201cSento bring together people from different walks of life,\u201d\u00a0says Watanabe. \u201cAnd in times riddled with problems like deflation, ageing and population decline, the baths offer a unique place of respite.\u201d\u00a0Shinya Hayasaka is a medical doctor and professor at\u00a0Tokyo City University, and has been researching the benefits of bathing for more than two decades. \u201cThose who bathe up to seven times a week have a 24 per cent reduced risk of developing depression,\u201d he says. Sento tend to have a number of baths at different temperatures (hotter tubs are favoured by older patrons), but Hayasaka\u00a0advises that 40 degrees for 10 minutes is optimal. Some places infuse the water with minerals.While the wellness boom has helped popularise Korean bathhouses \u2013 or jjimjilbangs \u2013 in cities such as LA and New York, the sento remain unique to Japan. This may\u00a0not be the case forever. Watanabe and Nagasaka have visions of introducing a version of sento abroad, tapping into a growing appetite for healthy and spiritual living. \u201cSento are spaces that remain rooted in the ordinary rhythms of neighbourhood life,\u201d says Holden. \u201cThey give people and families a sense of belonging and\u00a0attachment to their local communities, so it\u2019s important they continue to thrive.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic For many, sento are still a vital part of daily life in Japan, each\u00a0governed by a strict set of\u00a0customs. For centuries these gender-segregated bathhouses have acted\u00a0as ritualistic community spaces, meeting points and places for contemplation and relaxation. 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