by Wilson F. Fang
Things have been crazy lately. 10-hour days at the office. Too many errands at home. A family crisis needs mediation. Add this to the general post-September 11 feeling of fear and anxiety, and I'm getting ulcers the size of the Grand Canyon. To crib from an old commercial, I need a break today.
I try going for a walk. While waiting at an intersection, I stand next to some kid hefting a boom box the size of a refrigerator on his left shoulder. The music is so loud the old lady next to me has to turn down her hearing aid to avoid shattering what's left of her eardrums. The light turns green, but as I am about to cross, a Muni bus runs a red light and almost turns me into part of the pavement. My mood heads south, my blood pressure north. So much for the therapeutic properties of a walk.
I need an escape. It would be really nice to be seated in some posh spa somewhere, listening to soothing music while I lie in a warm sauna, towel around my waist, cucumbers over my eyes. Temptation beckons. I check the Net for the price of a ticket to distant, exotic lands. The fares come up, bringing reality with them. I can barely pay rent, let alone spring for a ticket to paradise. Besides, given the difficulties of travel nowadays, trying to calm down by getting away from it all may just add to your angst instead of take away from it.
That's when it comes to me. I don't have to jet off to, say, Japan to enjoy the physical and psychological benefits of relaxing at some Zen-infused resort. One of the nice things about being in the thick of the urban jungle is that you're not too far from amenities like tension-curing, mood-improving oases. For instance, the Kabuki Springs and Spa.
Inconspicuously located in a corner of the Japan Center Mall, the Kabuki Springs and Spa is the updated, San Francisco-chic version of the venerable Japanese sento, or bathhouse. The term "bathhouse" has acquired rather seedy connotations in this country, thanks to the recent co-opting of the term to refer to sordid, anything-goes sex palaces frequented by gay men (not that there's anything wrong with sordid, anything-goes sex palaces, if you're into that scene…). In contrast to that image, Japanese-style bathhouses are the continuation of a centuries-old tradition of communal bathing in a serene, relaxed atmosphere, where voices are hushed, the ambience contemplative, and ritual dutifully observed.
The City's version of the time-honored sento first opened its doors in 1971 as the Kabuki Hot Springs, located in (surprise, surprise) the Japantown district. In 1985, ownership transferred to the AMC Theatres organization, and if you're wondering what exactly the proposed synergies were between a Japanese bathhouse and a cineplex chain, your guess is as good as mine. This rather odd coupling finally ended in 1999, when the Joie de Vivre Hospitality Group took over the Kabuki.
First thing they did was hire SF design company Your Space to completely redo the place, and boy-oh-boy, was the place redone. Out went the tired, 70s-style accoutrements, replaced by trés haute contemporary fixtures. Sage green ceramic and gray slate tiles, wooden Adirondack chairs in the bath area, elegant burgundy drapes in the massage rooms, a huge new steam room and sauna--this is definitely not your sensei's bath house. More than just giving the Kabuki a facelift, though, they also added a raft of new services. Full-time bathing attendants in the communal baths; complimentary bowls of bathing appurtenances, such as sea salts, cucumber and lemon slices on ice, and chilled face cloths; free herbal teas and waters…the list goes on and on. They also expanded the massage service, once limited to Shiatsu, to include Esalen/Swedish massage, Reiki Energy Work, plus others with more esoteric names like Craniosacral Therapy, Looyenwork, and Zero Balancing. All focused on "wellness-oriented treatments and alternative healing."
All of which sounded like exactly what my fast-frazzling spirit sorely needed. Which is how I found myself one Saturday morning on the phone making a massage appointment. And not having very much success. Apparently, the place is popular enough that you need more than a few hours notice to get in. I apologize profusely to the gentleman on the phone about not calling earlier, and ask, in a rather plaintive voice, if there's "any way I could possibly get in this afternoon. Please…." The tone of desperation works, a slot is found at 5 PM, and I make plans to get my stressed-out duff to the spa at the appointed time.
At 4:15 I find myself registering at the cozy little front desk area, a process which takes but a few minutes. Thank goodness. I really need my spa time…. After providing my credit card and ID, I am handed the key to my locker, and a yukata, a unisex cotton kimono commonly worn in Japan from public spaces into the baths. I walk through hushed, dimly-lit hallways, and finally arrive at the startlingly brightly-illuminated locker room, where I change from street clothes into the provided robe. With about half an hour to spare before my massage, I decide to use the baths.
There are about fifteen men in the common area, this being Saturday, when the Kabuki is men-only. Most of them have nothing but towels on. In fact some have nothing on. For some reason, this is not as unnerving as I thought it would be. I call on whatever hidden reserves of exhibitionism I happen to have, hang the robe on a conveniently-located peg, and take my towel-wrapped self into the steam room. I sit down, close my eyes, and feel the steam permeate every pore in my body.
Ten minutes later, it seems like the sweat pouring off me has washed away a considerable amount of fretfulness as well. I feel considerably more peaceful, much more at ease. I take my leave of the sauna, and, as is recommended, dunk my body into the cold water plunge pool, to get my circulation going. Immersed in water that seems to have been drawn directly from an arctic glacier, I feel my blood accelerate to speeds that would have done a Formula One driver proud. After a minute I fear death by frostbite, and hop out of the pool, heading straight into the warm bath. But before I have time to enjoy the womb-like feeling of all that balmy water surrounding me, an attendant summons me for my massage.
I am led into a dark, curtained-off space, where a massage table awaits. I am instructed, in a soft, deferential tone, to hang up my robe, lie on the table, and await Jonathan, my masseur. I do as told, close my eyes, and feel myself drifting off to sleep…to be awakened a few minutes later by a male voice, who I assume is Jonathan, asking me if I want Shiatsu or Swedish. We spend a few minutes discussing the options, and I settle on a combination of both. I close my eyes again, and soon Jonathan's expert extremities are pushing, pulling, prodding, and pinching out the angst and tension from every inch of my body.
Fifty minutes later its all over. Jonathan whispers, "Please feel free to lie down for a few more minutes." The massage has left me strangely energetic, though, so within moments I am on my feet, headed back into the common bath area. I stop and pick up two cucumber slices and a chilled face towel, and go into the sauna, where I lay back, put the cucumbers over my eyes, cover my face with the cold towel, and let Mother Nature go to work. And believe me, she had her work cut out for her.
I wake from my nap shortly thereafter, my face all tingly from the cucumbers and cold water. Who knew that the vegetable crisper of the refrigerator could work such wonders?
I rinse off at one of the low, Japanese-style showers, scrubbing myself with sea salt during the process. After about five minutes sitting down on one of the chairs, cooling off, I get dressed, sip some vanilla tea, and head back out into the real world.
Back on the sidewalk, I hear horns honking, while other pedestrians rush past me, and the syncopated rhythms of city life try to intrude on my consciousness. Without success, as my stint at the Kabuki Springs and Spa have fortified me with a reserve of serenity that will hopefully last me 'til the next time I can come for a visit.
The Kabuki Springs and Spa is located at 1750 Geary Boulevard (at Fillmore St.). A Full Session 50-minute massage, with access to the Bath areas, starts at $80. For more information, call 415.922.6000, or visit the website at www.kabukisprings.com.
