Sento: A Culture of Sharing

For many, central Tokyo is synonymous with neon lights and futuristic skyscrapers. However, beyond these modernizations stand lantern-lit neighborhoods imbued with stories of the past. Taito City, located near this central area, is renowned for its shitamachi or old town vibes. Iconic sights such as the vermillion Senso-ji Temple and adjoining Nakamise Street have captured tourists’ eyes for generations. Sento, or communal bath houses, are one such example of this preserved history.

Taito has remained relatively unchanged since the Edo period and despite being the smallest of Tokyo’s 23 special wards, is home to nearly 20 sento. These facilities were popularized during the Edo period when using resources efficiently was essential to a sustainable society. In addition to sharing bathwater, sento owners would also burn discarded scrap wood to heat water. Due to limited resources, these facilities became an important part of Edo culture and epitomized environmental sustainability. Even today, sento still integrate these sustainable philosophies into their modern day practices. For instance, in order to conserve energy, many sento use the heat from dirty water to help boil new water.

After the Edo period, sento culture evolved from a necessity to a lifestyle. In our conversations with people of varying ages, they recounted their experiences at sento with nostalgic smiles. Visiting sento with their families was always an exciting adventure. Their parents and grandparents would often buy them sweet drinks and treats. Kouichi Kitajima, the Chairman of the Taito Sento Association, said his favorite part about visiting sento is the feeling of iyashi, which translates to relaxation, relief, and healing. At the end of the workday, the sento provides a haven where people can clean themselves, unwind, and chat with fellow bathers. “It doesn’t matter what your background or social standing is,” Kitajima, a sento owner himself, explained passionately, “Whether you are a manager or a child–everyone is naked and everyone shares the same space.”

Given their cultural significance, sento are perfect places for tourists to experience traditional Japan and support sustainable tourism as their spending fuels both the local economy and sento culture. However, visiting bath houses can be intimidating for foreigners. Each sento has slightly different rules, and the custom of being openly naked in front of others may be uncommon in tourists’ home countries. While you would expect these barriers to prevent tourists from visiting sento, Kitajima responded otherwise. “Most foreigners do their research before they arrive at the sento and follow the rules perfectly,” he said with a chuckle. At Kitajima’s sento, he displays signage in English and Japanese to help visitors enjoy their experience to the fullest. He loves when foreigners visit and is happy to answer any of their questions. “When people bathe together they build a bond with each other and their community,” Kitajima shared. It is his desire to share this sento culture with foreign tourists.

Sustainability and sustainable tourism are built on the concept of maintaining present needs without compromising future ones. “It is important to preserve sento because they are such a unique culture to Japan,” Kunihisa Ehata, the Chief of Tourism Section of Taito, shared, “They are all about connections and a sense of community.” In order to preserve sento for future generations, Taito is implementing numerous initiatives to connect tourists and younger people with sento. Aside from using social media platforms such as Instagram and Twitter, Taito also created a photography tour where people can take photos of sento before open hours–a rare opportunity in Japan. In collaboration with the Taito Sento Association, Taito also supports a stamp campaign where people can receive prizes, such as t-shirts and towels, by visiting multiple sento. This project introduces people to the subtle differences between bath houses and makes them appreciate them more.

In a constantly changing city like Tokyo, Taito’s sento and shitamachi atmosphere reminds people of the enduring culture of the past.

Mottainai Culture
in Nippori Fabric Town

Arakawa City, located just north of central Tokyo, is a charming neighborhood that, similar to Taito, has retained its shitamachi energy. Here, people can catch glimpses of the retro Tokyo Sakura Tram as it cruises past the homey townscape. Even first time visitors cannot help but feel drawn to the area’s local character. Nippori Fabric Town, situated in the southern part of the ward, perfectly encapsulates Arakawa’s nostalgic atmosphere.

The one kilometer fabric street extends from Nippori Station to Nippori Chuo Street and is home to about 90 fabric-related shops that sell everything from kimono to Western style clothing to specialty accessories. The fabric town started as a place where wholesalers would sell manufacturers’ leftover or out-of-season fabric to business owners. However in recent years, the textile street has evolved into a popular fashion hub where tourists, residents, and companies alike shop for materials.

Due to the convenience of fast fashion, which is when manufacturers mass-produce cheap clothing to meet trends, the fashion industry is often criticized for its wastefulness and unsustainable practices. However, at Nippori Fabric Town, Japan’s long-enduring mottainai culture fosters an atmosphere where sustainability is at the heart of many shops. Mottainai roughly translates to “what a waste,” and is an important ideal embedded in Japan’s society. “Mottainai is the soul of Japanese people,” Masahisa Saito, the Chairman of the Nippori Fabric Town shared.

While Nippori Fabric Town’s history of selling leftover materials is already sustainable in itself, the area also illustrates sustainability with its secondhand clothing shops, clothing repair shops, and promotion of DIY and clothing-making culture. The street further caters to “DIY-ers” with workshops that teach skills such as clothing and bag making. While these workshops do not explicitly address sustainability in their classes, their commitment to reusing materials and avoiding wastefulness demonstrate its ideals. For instance, many classes teach participants how to make scrunchies, pouches, and lunch mats with leftover materials so nothing goes to waste. “Sustainability is such a new term that some people have a hard time remembering it. However, many shops have been following sustainable practices for generations thanks to mottainai,” Saito explained.

Every autumn, Nippori Fabric Town holds a week-long fashion show where it displays clothing designed by students from all over Japan. In 2021, the fashion show’s theme was “Sustainable Style,” and this year (2022), its theme is “Paradigm Shift,” which explores sustainability more broadly and challenges participants to design clothing suitable for Tokyo’s new coronavirus way of life. These themes not only introduce people to sustainability, but also demonstrate its predominance in Tokyo.

Aside from environmental sustainability, Nippori Fabric Town also supports economic sustainability since residents’ local spending fuels the economy. Naturally, it also makes for a great sustainable tourism destination where visitors can support the local economy, as well as the culture of the area, with their shopping.

Step into the Edo Period in Koganei City

Koganei City, located in western Tokyo, is an easily accessible nature getaway home to Koganei Park, one of western Tokyo’s largest green spaces. In springtime, visitors from all over Tokyo visit this park to admire its thousands of cherry trees. Aside from its seasonal beauty, Koganei Park also serves as a gateway to the past at the Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum. This expansive museum, located on the western side of the park, features an immaculately preserved townscape of Edo to Showa period buildings and seeks to relocate, reconstruct, preserve, and exhibit culturally significant buildings.

At the museum’s entrance, our private guide, Eri-san, greeted us in a traditional kimono. “This kimono was my mother’s and the obi belonged to my grandmother,” she said with a smile before gesturing to her feet, “Even the cloth on my shoes is from recycled kimono fabric.” As we soon learned, recycling, reusing, and repurposing items was an integral part of Edo’s “Zero Waste Society” and is represented not only in its culture, but also its architecture.

Among the museum’s collection of buildings are farmhouses and private houses constructed during the mid to late Edo period. The most eye-catching feature of these homes are their thatched roofs, which are made of tightly woven straw and grass atop bamboo supports. On average, these roofs lasted about 40 years! When the roof was damaged and needed replacing, the owners would use the old roofing material as bedding for animals or, if it was completely unsalvageable, would burn it and sell the ashes to farmers as fertilizer. This process is just one example of how people during the Edo period used resources to their fullest. Also, since iron and glass were expensive, most Edo period homes were made with all natural materials. Even the washi paper windows and doors in these homes supported sustainability as this type of paper is made from young, fast growing trees and does not add to deforestation.

Aside from architecture, sustainability was interwoven into residents’ daily lives. Recycling, repairing, and using the same items for multiple purposes were commonplace and buying new was extremely rare. Niche specialists were always on standby to make repairs. Even human waste was recycled as fertilizer. This culture of sustainability was so ingrained in Edo society that it spawned rich folklore about yokai or bad spirits. People believed that all objects had souls–wells, buckets, glasses, kimono, lanterns, everything. If they didn’t take care of their belongings, the objects would turn into bad spirits and haunt them. These stories were recorded in books and passed from generation to generation, fueling a culture where people respected and took care of their belongings.

Takakashi’s favorite part about working at the museum is seeing the surprised faces of visitors when they learn something new. “Yes, I can teach something!” he exclaimed with a broad smile. For hands-on learning, the museum offers educational experiences where staff and volunteers teach elementary school students about past traditional activities, such as lighting fire with charcoal, using a hearth (irori), and weaving rope with straw. “Children love these activities,” Takahashi shared, becoming animated again. These activities not only introduce students to the Edo period’s sustainable ideals, but also connect them with older volunteers, thus preserving the culture of the past.

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, the museum was a popular tourist spot. The historical homes juxtaposed against Koganei Park’s nature make for both an educational and inspiring stroll. When we asked Takahashi why it is important to preserve the past, he chuckled, “If I responded seriously, I could talk for hours.” He then continued more seriously, “You need to know about and remember the past in order to move forward.” Preserving traditional practices, architecture, and ideologies are imperative in a society where future generations can understand and experience their roots. Places like the Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum play an important role in cultural sustainability and demonstrate Tokyo’s commitment to maintaining the past and sharing it with domestic and international visitors alike.

The Edo Period, Today

Thanks to the persevering traditions of the past, sustainability has long been embedded in Tokyo’s culture. Well before the term “sustainability” was popularized, the Edo period fostered an environment of respect where people used resources to their fullest. These sustainable ideologies live on in modern day Tokyo and offer unique perspectives that have the power to reshape not only Japan, but also the world. From resource sharing at sento to mottainai culture in Nippori Fabric Town, sustainability is woven into numerous facets of Tokyo life, making it a city where people can not only experience, but learn from the past to achieve a more harmonious future.