The first time I was walking through an alley in Kyoto and suddenly saw a tall chimney soaring into the sky, I felt a strange sense of warmth. Smoke rising from up there meant something warm was down below. It was a public bathhouse (sento).
They say these chimneys used to be the town's landmarks. People heading home from work would spot the smoke from afar and think, 'The bathhouse is open today,' using it to find their way. But now, these chimneys are disappearing one by one. As technology changes, cities become more crowded, and regulations are introduced, a tragic tale of chimneys is quietly unfolding.
Why Did the Chimneys Have to Be So Tall?
The reason sento chimneys are exceptionally tall isn't just to make them stand out. There's a strict thermodynamic principle at play called the Stack Effect. Back when they burned wood or coal, the chimneys needed to be at least 20 meters high to increase combustion efficiency and send the smoke high into the sky, away from neighboring houses.
In Tokyo especially, intricately stacked brick chimneys were the norm instead of concrete, to better withstand earthquakes. These chimneys, meticulously built by artisans, featured a distinctive curve—thicker at the base and tapering towards the top—showcasing an artistic beauty that went beyond mere functionality.
However, as fuel sources shifted to heavy oil and gas, the functional need for these massive chimneys disappeared. A narrow metal pipe is now sufficient for ventilation. Consequently, the giant chimneys, having lost their purpose, became 'relics of the past' that only incurred maintenance costs, placing them at the top of the demolition list.
The Unaffordable Cost of Demolition
The direct trigger for this tragic tale of chimneys was the strengthening of earthquake-resistance regulations. After the Great East Japan Earthquake, the risk of aging chimneys collapsing onto nearby residential areas grew, prompting the Japanese government to demand strict seismic evaluations.
Astronomical Demolition and Maintenance Costs
Demolishing a single chimney can cost anywhere from millions to tens of millions of yen, depending on the surroundings. For individual bathhouse owners already facing financial difficulties, this is an unbearable expense. Many end up either closing down or, with the help of subsidies, cutting their chimneys down, leaving them in a peculiar 'half-chimney' form.
Urban Overcrowding and Regulations
The once open spaces around bathhouses are now crowded with high-rise apartment buildings. New residents often file complaints, more concerned about air pollution from the smoke or the risk of falling debris than the chimney's artistic beauty, further threatening the existence of sento.
What We Lose When Bathhouses Disappear
The disappearance of a chimney means more than just a building being torn down. It symbolizes the collapse of the local community, which served as a social safety net and a place for communication.
In Japan, there's a phrase, 'hadaka no tsukiai' (裸の付き合い, naked communion). It means that within the bathhouse, people shed their jobs, social status, and wealth, meeting simply as human beings. As the sento—where people checked on elderly neighbors living alone and watched local children grow up—disappears, the void is being filled by darker aspects of modern society, such as lonely deaths.
"The day the chimney smoke stopped, the heartbeat of our town stopped with it. The sento was never just a place to wash your body; it was a public square for sharing your soul."
For First-Time Sento Visitors
If you're looking for a sento with a chimney in Tokyo, try wandering the backstreets of Sugamo, Koenji, or Arakawa. There are still some with smoke rising from them. Before entering the bath, performing 'kakeyu' (rinsing your body) is essential. This is a basic rule of Japanese bathing etiquette.
It's basic manners not to put your towel in the bathwater. You can take photos of the chimney from the outside, but photography inside is strictly forbidden. Also, some places may deny entry to people with tattoos, so it's best to check beforehand. The refreshing feeling after soaking in a hot bath in the autumn or winter is truly special. For me, it's one of the most memorable parts of traveling in Japan.