Gyms, pools and public baths ban
them, or insist they must be concealed. Some even provide bandages and sticky
tape for that purpose. The mayor of Osaka, Japan’s second city, launched a
witch-hunt against tattooed civil servants in 2012. Employees were required to
fill out a form describing their tattoos and exactly what part of the body they
decorated.
For foreign business travellers,
this can be a nuisance. Most of us can survive a few days off from the gym, but
what about Japan’s matchless hot spring resorts? Every good guidebook
recommends them, but the best of luck getting in: a survey released last month
by the Japan Tourism Agency (JTA) found that well over half of the resorts bar
tattooed guests. The same JTA poll found that a third of foreign tourists
cite hot springs as among their key reasons for visiting the country.
Susumu Kida, a government official,
is trying to explain to Japanese that tattoos do not mean the same in every country.
A fact sheet will be sent to the thousands of portals for foreign travellers
explaining that tattoos do not carry the same social stigma elsewhere. “Much of
the problem is caused by lack of knowledge about foreign cultures,” he says,
citing the case of a Maori woman who was recently barred from a resort because
of her elaborately painted face.
Changing wider cultural attitudes
will not be so easy. Michael Dick, an executive producer with Canadian TV who
lived in Japan for two years with his heavily tattooed arms and legs, says he got
used to the disapproving looks. Mothers moved their children away from him in
the subway, he recalls. “It drastically modified how I dressed; my entire
wardrobe was long-sleeve shirts.” As for hot spring resorts, he didn’t even
try.
Edited from The Economist
