Night at the Ryokan: the Art of Traditional Japanese Hospitality

If you’ve been dreaming of visiting the tantalizing shores of the Land of the Rising Sun (or even if you’re already a seasoned Japan-ite — a term I coined for someone who’s traveled there a lot), then you’ve probably come across the word ryokan at some point in your trip research. You may even have wondered, when making your hotel bookings, if staying in a ryokan is worth the often hefty price tag.

Friends, I’m here to tell you that, yes, it is absolutely worth it — please allow me to recount to you the unbelievably dreamy ryokan experience I had while staying at a charming place called Utsukushigahara Onsen Kanaukan, a nearly 100-year-old establishment where my friend (who lives in Tokyo) and I enjoyed a long-overdue girl’s weekend in Matsumoto, a historic town surrounded by the picturesque Japan Alps in Nagano Prefecture.

the charmingly traditional entrance to Kanaukan, the ryokan where I stayed in Matsumoto

A ryokan, in essence, is a traditional Japanese-style inn. The two pictographic alphabet characters (kanji) that are combined to spell the word ryokan in Japanese — 旅館 — literally means “travel museum,” and unlike Western-style hotels, the concept of a ryokan is centered primarily around communal spaces where guests can mingle and chat, lounge around in breezy cotton robes called yukata, and enjoy the subtle elegance of Japanese culture and architecture. And of course, there’s the hot-spring baths, or onsen. You can’t forget the onsen.

Size is another contrast; many Western hotels, especially in bustling tourist destinations, can boast of over a hundred suites, or close to it. Ryokan, on the other hand, are more boutique in nature, with only a handful of guest rooms, sometimes not even more than ten. And more often than not, a ryokan will be managed in the hands of a single family for generations, their descendants continuing the tradition of providing hospitality to weary travelers.

Kanaukan, the ryokan I’d chosen for our girl’s weekend, was apparently massively popular with the Matsumoto locals, because every single room (there being merely nine) was fully booked except for the only room that was Western-style rather than Japanese-style, which we immediately reserved for fear of missing out completely (now I say we, but really it was my friend who took charge — the website is only available in Japanese, which she speaks fluently; my own skills are still at the elementary level, despite my best efforts).

here I am fully enjoying the Western-style room in our ryokan, which still had a traditional charm despite the missing tatami floor mats

While the Western-style room was rather a shame at first, since the allure of spending the night in a ryokan is sleeping in a room carpeted by tatami — woven mats of dry rushes or hemp — with fluffy white futon spread out across it, any disappointment was quickly forgotten the moment our taxi dropped us off in front of the flagstone path leading to Kanaukan, where we were met by the stunning tiled arched-roof awning and the enthusiastic greetings of the kindly proprietess.

Our bags were whisked up to our room to await us there while we were shown around the tranquil lobby area overlooking a moss-covered koi pond, the airy dining space where we’d be sitting down to a multi-course meal later that evening, and the entrance to the hot-spring baths.

the lobby of Kanaukan provided a tranquil space for reflection and meditation

A blissful serenity permeated every corner of the ryokan. Latticed doors covered in mulberry paper diffused the afternoon sunlight into a gentle glow. Soft piano music drifted from an unseen speaker in the lobby. Fresh, sunny-yellow daffodils, hand-picked from the ryokan’s own garden, adorned vases placed in various display alcoves in a simple ikebana arrangement. The very nature of Kanaukan’s traditional design inspired an obligation in each guest to move quietly through the space, so as not to disturb the peace.

one of the windows in our room, which overlooked the ryokan’s main facade

Fine dining is of course another focus of the hospitality at a ryokan, but in contrast to a typical hotel, you won’t find any fancy menus on the table here, because you won’t need to order anything — aside from your drink of choice, of course. The dinner selection is at the discretion of the ryokan’s chef, who will prepare what is known as kaiseki, the Japanese equivalent to Western haute cuisine. A kaiseki meal usually comprises of at least eight courses beginning with a simple amuse-bouche, several sashimi dishes, followed by side dishes to cleanse the palate, but could even extend up to an extravagant fifteen courses.

Our first order of business, however, was a quick dip in the onsen for some good-old-fashioned relaxation, since we’d been taking in the sights of the city and exploring Matsumoto Castle all day (a brief tangent: it’s one of the oldest original castles in Japan, also known as the Crow Castle because of its unique and rather intimidating black exterior — well worth a visit), understandably working up quite a sweat despite the cool spring weather.

lightly crisped croquettes with parmesan cheese as the opening appetizer of our ryokan dinner

So we popped on the cozy yukata very kindly provided by our hosts, tip-toed over to the public bathhouse, and immersed our tired bodies in boiling hot mineral spring water, allowing the billowing steam clouds to evaporate away any muscle pain and backaches — then promptly at 7.30pm we donned our robes once more, cheeks rosy from the warmth, and seated ourselves in the dining room, ready to tuck in.

grilled masu (sea trout) paired with a wondrously soft mashed onion paste and crispy broccoli; the contrast of textures was a culinary sensation

The appetizers got off to a strong start: perfectly spherical, symphonically crispy mashed potato croquettes (or korokke, as they’re known in Japanese) served with a sprinkling of parmesan cheese, the opening salvo in what was to be a nearly 2-hour long, eight-course culinary marathon and adding the unexpected yet delightful twist of a Western fusion to the traditional Japanese dishes (croquettes, for example, are originally French, but have been adapted into a popular Japanese street food). Since I don’t drink alcohol, I paired the meal with a subtly sweet organic apple juice, while my friend enjoyed a light beer.

As each subsequent dish was brought out to us, the staff would delve into a detailed explanation of their ingredients and the manner in which they had been prepared: we had grilled sea trout resting on a cloud of puréed onion paste, mouthwateringly soft, with charred broccoli; frothy pea soup topped with lightly fried burdock roots; and instead of the usual fish sashimi, we were each presented with a bowl of basashi — raw horse meat, thinly sliced and paired with perilla leaves. Only in Japan would I trust the quality of raw horse meat enough to happily gobble it down with a side of tangy soy sauce.

traditional meets modern: this hallway at the ryokan exemplifies the subtle elegance of Japanese architecture, paired with a Western-style lamp fixture

In feudal times, Nagano Prefecture (wherein lies our lovely ryokan, should my ramblings have driven it from your mind), was once known as Shinano Province, or Shinshu, and the wait staff proudly declared throughout dinner exactly which ingredients had been sourced from the local region, attesting to its high quality and superior flavour. But later that night, as I lay ensconced in my waffle duvet, eyes drooping off to sleep after another round of aprés-dinner onsen, it wasn’t the organic ingredients or stellar customer service or even the premium-grade wagyu that left its indelible impression on me — rather, it was the feeling of camaraderie between us and the other guests, that unforgettable sense of a shared experience which forges a bond between strangers that was making me giddy with happiness.

another cheeky onsen selfie, sporting the very snug (and stylish) yukata robes

At the dining table directly behind us, a group of about six jolly grannies laughed and chatted as they enjoyed each course — incidentally, while at the onsen prior to dinner, I happened upon three of these ladies in the changing room, all of us utterly in the nuddy, and they engaged me in a brief conversation (in Japanese, I’m proud to say) wherein I shared that I was visiting from Thailand to catch the cherry blossom season; they remarked how the blooms were later than usual this year, to which I agreed — and at the table opposite us to the left, two young women were enjoying their meal in a companionable silence. And as we moved to the cushy seats in the lobby for our light dessert of pomelo sorbet, my friend and I struck up a conversation with the young couple also enjoying their dessert in the seats next to us.

a typical ryokan breakfast spread: various side dishes such as pickled vegetables, grilled fish, and miso soup, eaten together with warm, supple Japanese rice

The next morning my friend and I squeezed in two more onsen trips on either side of a tantalizingly traditional Japanese breakfast — pickled vegetables, snap-peas with creamy sesame paste, more grilled fish, miso soup — cheerfully greeting our new acquaintances as we passed them on the way. The group of grannies had changed back into normal attire and were enjoying tea before their check-out time. Each guest was following the thread of their own adventures, but for a few fleeting hours overnight those threads had become entwined, twisted and tangled together before resuming its course once more.

The cypress-wood hallways, sliding shoji doors, and thoughtful, elegant architecture of the Kanaukan ryokan had brought a few fellow travelers together for a weekend, strangers at their meeting, still strangers at their parting, but all of us now leaving with the shared memories of an unforgettable experience in traditional Japanese hospitality. ✿