The Journalist's Dilemma

May 10, 1987.

He arrived two days after I checked into the hotel and settled into my room. By that point, I had established where restaurants and grocery stores could be found in the surrounding area, and visiting the hot springs had become part of my routine. After working on my article, a carb-filled dinner was all I ever craved, perpetually leaving my stomach with the appearance that a balloon was lodged inside. Regardless of my gastrointestinal insecurities, my excitement for the hot springs each night was not stifled. The onsen was divided into two pools cut off from one another by a massive wooden gate. Men had one side and women the other. Despite being able to hear their voices and less than satisfactory masculine conversation, the wooden planks tightly formed together still gave a sense of privacy to the women.

I watched the sun slowly set and felt the air grow colder as the voices of other guests enjoying the springs diminished. The stars replaced whatever orange light remained in the sky and encouraged silence throughout the hotel. Early summer insects began their medley at once, bringing nature closer to the hotel's modern and out-of-touch style. It was an older building recently renovated in 1985, meaning the zairai kouhou face of the exterior, made up of gorgeous wooden beams and clay roof tiles, concealed the voguish redesign past the entrance. The lobby and the restaurant were the only things that truly changed, according to the framed pictures of their previous appearances hung up behind the check-in counter. They still faithfully catered to the Japanese love for all things wood, but some beams and walls had been knocked out in the lobby to make it appear extended. At the end of a 24-step wide varnish wooden staircase, two large fusuma paper doors stayed perpetually open to the onsen division, letting traces of warm steam tempt and lure guests. In the restaurant on the first floor, instead of pale wooden kotatsu and blue embroidered pillows, they put in Westerner-friendly long-legged tables with auburn leather booths and oak-red marble flooring. It looked more like an American diner than a traditional hot spring luxury stay. There was even a bar installed the year I visited—which I was doing my best to avoid since I arrived. But it was just as alluring as the onsen. There were small round tables tucked all around the space and random LED art signs planted on every other wall leading toward the bathrooms. I just wanted to sit in there and sip on a Grasshopper, while I listened to all the different languages blend around me. Folks from all kinds of countries wandered into the Shibukawa mighty onsen and it appeared two Korean men were making the most of the spring that very night.

"I knew it! There's no one here."

"Ah, this is good. Just what I needed after today..."

The two men sloshed around in the water on the other side of the gate, needlessly making weird grunts and heavy sighs to express their delight. Pushing away from the corner nearest their side of the spring where I was soaking, I decided my time of relaxation could continue inside the privacy of my own quarters. But being naturally nosy, I swam away slowly and listened to the men's juicy conversation on my way out.

"Say, whatever happened with that white girl that you were seeing? Did you fuck her?"

"I went to her apartment a couple of times, we fucked."

"Well, what happened? You're not seeing her anymore?"

"Her Korean is better than I thought. She overheard me talking to Ji-eun on the phone one night. You remember Ji-eun?"

"How the hell are these white horses learning so fast? I miss the days when there were no foreigners and the few that were there barely spoke Korean. Mm, I remember Ji-eun the one with the long legs."

If my image in the eyes of men wasn't already twisted and tainted enough, these two maggots had perverted it to its maximum capacity. Wary of their decided purpose for foreign women and women in general, I swam back to the wooden gate to find a small crack. I wanted to remember their faces and avoid them. Floating around the perimeter of the gate and reaching over to move small rocks and weeds aside, I found a random piece of masking tape stuck in between two planks and peeled it off with my nails. Looking through the minuscule gap, I spotted the two men: one chubby and pale and the other tan and fit. I lingered my eyes on the latter for a moment longer, assuming he was the one who had schmoozed the white foreigner and Ji-eun. Disgust tugged on my lips, and I forgot myself for a moment, letting out a small but audible enough snicker.