Encapsulated in Friendly Osaka

After living in Japan for three years, I have come to see the appeal in small spaces—less to clean, cozy, intimate.
Still, I chose to ignore Rod’s pleas over the years to spend the night in one of Japan’s famed “capsule inns”,
nicknamed “coffins” by some.  It was only on the occasion of his 30th birthday that I finally decided to brave
my claustrophobia in order to try out the epitome of cozy accommodations.  As part the “Kansai Surprise
Birthday" package, I located the Namba Capsule Inn, one of the only capsule hotels in Osaka
to accept female guests.  Generally, capsule inns are located near stations in the large cities and are used by men
who have missed their last train home on a drinking night.  Despite the obvious charm of Nara’s peaceful temples,
I knew that the moment of great anticipation for the birthday boy was checking in for the night in Osaka.

We arrived from Nara at Osaka’s Namba Station in the pouring rain.  In fact it had been raining on and off since
we left Tokyo on the evening of June 9th.  The cheap umbrellas we had purchased at a temple shop had already
been turned inside out by the rainy season onslaught.  Still we couldn’t help but be impressed at how quickly and
comfortably we were able to commute between Kansai cities, having just the other day, taken a direct train from
Kyoto to Nara and now coming from Nara to Osaka on another straight ride.

The rain also seemed to have little effect on the boisterous spirit of Osaka’s residents.  We had hardly exited the
train station, before a man approached us and using Osaka-ben—the local dialect—dotted in English, he offered
to direct us to any destination in the city, as long as we had a Japanese map.  Our only map was in our English
guidebook, but he paused only for a moment before etching out some characters on a scrap of paper in a shaky
hand.

Eventually we found ourselves at the tourist information office where we were loaded up with maps, brochures,
and a What’s On magazine, all in English.  Not only was the agent familiar with our choice of lodgings for
the night, she procured us a map and brochure from her drawer and picked up the phone to make us
a reservation.  Following this cheerful exchange, we made our way through the Osaka underground to
our destination.

As we walked past sex trade establishments in a fairly seedy district, I figured that our friendly luck was sure to
run out.  But, alas, we were being expected at the Namba Capsule Inn by an English-speaking staff member who
immediately broke into a detailed explanation of how our quarters operated.  His explanations were such as one
would expect checking into a 5-star hotel, not the bottom-end of no frills.  I would stay on the women’s third
floor, Rod on the eighth floor with the men, rooms were accessible by elevator, each floor had a bathroom and
shower though only the men’s floor had a bath.  We were each given two keys, one for the locker near our
capsule, the other for the slipper locker downstairs.  Although we were told that if we wanted, we could leave our
shoes on.  What?! Now that was pushing hospitality a little far even for us.

Breakfast was served in the morning and was included in the price of the room.  The hotel was open 24 hours
which meant there was no curfew.  Checkout was at 10 am.  Hardly able to wait for the end of the innkeeper’s
explanation, we hurried up to our "rooms".  Mine was the top capsule and the light had been turned on with
a fresh yukata, towel and toothbrush laid out for me.  The washroom contained-- along with the rudimentary
toilet slippers--shampoo, body soap, brushes, a blowdrier and other toiletries.  I was impressed. Only a few
of the capsules seemed to be occupied.  After dropping my bag in the locker I met Rod downstairs and
we headed off to explore an evening in Den-Den Town, Osaka’s equivalent to Tokyo's Akihabara Electric Town.

As for the night we spent in our capsules, well, I felt like I was sleeping in a plastic cat-carrier.  I kept
banging my limbs against the sides.  Humans need open spaces to sleep in, I concluded.  Smoking wasn’t
prohibited, which was Rod’s biggest morning complaint, and I was concerned trying in my demi-sleep to recall a
fire exit in the cramped building.  With only a curtain keeping me from the other residents, I kept jolting up each
time someone walked by my capsule.  Still I would rate the rest higher than that received on the Tokyo-Kyoto
overnight bus three nights previous.

Rod was already through with his complimentary breakfast-- two texas toast with butter, a hard-boiled egg
and coffee-- when I came downstairs and seemed to have lost his enthusiasm for the coffin experience. 
Apparently the men’s floor had been almost filled to capacity and various sounds such as television sets
(each capsule comes equipped with one) went on all through the night.

So although I was closer to becoming a capsule convert than my husband, I was still glad enough to be checking
out and would prefer a night spent sleeping on the tatami floor of an overpriced ryokan.  Still, I do recommend
staying in a capsule inn as another quirky check on the Japan to-do list.