What makes a sauna experience truly great? I define it as the time when both body and mind become completely empty. Body and mind. These two must be healed simultaneously, but healing the mind is, in truth, remarkably difficult. The body is straightforward enough — repeat the cycle of sauna, cold plunge bath, and rest, and you'll get that refreshing sensation. Results come easily. But the mind is another matter entirely. The mindfulness of the other guests has a huge impact, and the atmosphere of the sauna room itself becomes critically important. At Hiki stargazing sauna, I experienced exactly that — a moment where both body and mind were emptied completely. Hiki stargazing sauna is a reservation-only private sauna located near the Peace Memorial Park in Hiroshima. I had booked in advance and arrived at the building housing the sauna. It's a five-story building, with the sauna on the 5th floor. Passing through the café on the ground floor and heading toward the elevator, I found a sign saying it was out of service. So, walk up to the 5th floor then. I took it as a warm-up before the sauna and climbed the stairs. At the entrance on the 5th floor, there was a combination lock — you enter the code provided in the reservation email and the door opens. No reception desk, no staff. Not being greeted does feel a little lonely, I'll admit. Inside, there's a small locker area, and the sauna space appears to be in the back. After changing, I headed further in to find a simple layout: a shower area, the sauna, a cold plunge bath, and an outdoor relaxation area. There's no bathtub like in a public bathhouse, so once you've showered, the sauna is the only place to go. When I entered the sauna, two guests were already there. I could hear them talking before I came in, but as soon as I stepped inside, they went silent. These two would turn out to be the perfect companions for a truly great sauna experience. The atmosphere of the sauna room was exceptional. Through the large windows, you could gaze out at a garden that could only be described as a work of art — a world entirely unlike anything you'd find in an ordinary public bathhouse. The Harvia sauna stove was powerfully hot; I'd estimate it was close to 100°C, though that's just my impression. After sitting in quiet meditation for a while, one of the other guests spoke up: "Would you mind if I did some löyly?" "Please, go ahead!" I replied, and aromatic water was poured over the sauna stones. The scent and steam drifted through the room, and sweat broke out all at once. When I hit my limit, I stepped out and headed straight for the cold plunge bath. The cold plunge bath was in one corner of the outdoor relaxation area — I'd estimate around 12°C, extremely cold. I submerged myself up to my head and cooled my whole body. Then I lay down on the wooden bench for resting. Looking up, the roof was open to the sky. The weather was beautiful that day, and I was able to soothe both body and mind while gazing up at the blue sky. The two other guests stepped out of the sauna at nearly the same time, but even in the relaxation area they didn't speak. They had come together, yet each was in their own world, finding their totonou state independently. I rested for a while and then headed in for my second set. The pair followed shortly after, and again, not a word was exchanged. Watching them, I could see they sat with eyes closed on the bench, directing their awareness inward. I figured they must be seasoned sauna veterans. Precisely because of that, they were clearly mindful of sauna etiquette. The proof: I could hear them talking before I arrived — it was just the two of them — but from the moment I walked in, they didn't say a single word. I felt genuinely lucky to share the space with guests this considerate. At the beginning, I wrote that a great sauna experience is the time when the mind becomes empty. But if someone in a sauna built around the concept of quiet stillness were chatting away, healing the mind would be impossible. Their voices would pull at your attention and build stress. That's precisely why healing the mind is the ultimate challenge — it's something you can only achieve together with the other guests in the room. In my second set too, I was able to focus entirely on my inner world. All that existed was a beautiful sauna, a cold plunge bath, and outdoor relaxation. The only sounds in that quiet space were the hiss of löyly and the rhythm of breathing. I never exchanged a word with the pair, yet I felt as though we were all quietly enjoying the shared experience of being in that space together. Curiously, our timing in the sauna and rest periods aligned almost perfectly throughout, and in the end I spent all four sets in the same space as them. It wasn't deliberate. While in the sauna or resting, I was completely in my own world. I'd hear an inner voice say, "Alright, time for the next set," and my body would rise. It just happened to be the same moment for all of us. I love saunas, but there's no doubt they do too. I'm grateful for the encounter.

What makes a sauna experience truly great? I define it as the time when both body and mind become completely empty. Body and mind. These two must be healed simultaneously, but healing the mind is, in truth, remarkably difficult. The body is straightforward enough — repeat the cycle of sauna, cold plunge bath, and rest, and you'll get that refreshing sensation. Results come easily. But the mind is another matter entirely. The mindfulness of the other guests has a huge impact, and the atmosphere of the sauna room itself becomes critically important. At Hiki stargazing sauna, I experienced exactly that — a moment where both body and mind were emptied completely. Hiki stargazing sauna is a reservation-only private sauna located near the Peace Memorial Park in Hiroshima. I had booked in advance and arrived at the building housing the sauna. It's a five-story building, with the sauna on the 5th floor. Passing through the café on the ground floor and heading toward the elevator, I found a sign saying it was out of service. So, walk up to the 5th floor then. I took it as a warm-up before the sauna and climbed the stairs. At the entrance on the 5th floor, there was a combination lock — you enter the code provided in the reservation email and the door opens. No reception desk, no staff. Not being greeted does feel a little lonely, I'll admit. Inside, there's a small locker area, and the sauna space appears to be in the back. After changing, I headed further in to find a simple layout: a shower area, the sauna, a cold plunge bath, and an outdoor relaxation area. There's no bathtub like in a public bathhouse, so once you've showered, the sauna is the only place to go. When I entered the sauna, two guests were already there. I could hear them talking before I came in, but as soon as I stepped inside, they went silent. These two would turn out to be the perfect companions for a truly great sauna experience. The atmosphere of the sauna room was exceptional. Through the large windows, you could gaze out at a garden that could only be described as a work of art — a world entirely unlike anything you'd find in an ordinary public bathhouse. The Harvia sauna stove was powerfully hot; I'd estimate it was close to 100°C, though that's just my impression. After sitting in quiet meditation for a while, one of the other guests spoke up: "Would you mind if I did some löyly?" "Please, go ahead!" I replied, and aromatic water was poured over the sauna stones. The scent and steam drifted through the room, and sweat broke out all at once. When I hit my limit, I stepped out and headed straight for the cold plunge bath. The cold plunge bath was in one corner of the outdoor relaxation area — I'd estimate around 12°C, extremely cold. I submerged myself up to my head and cooled my whole body. Then I lay down on the wooden bench for resting. Looking up, the roof was open to the sky. The weather was beautiful that day, and I was able to soothe both body and mind while gazing up at the blue sky. The two other guests stepped out of the sauna at nearly the same time, but even in the relaxation area they didn't speak. They had come together, yet each was in their own world, finding their totonou state independently. I rested for a while and then headed in for my second set. The pair followed shortly after, and again, not a word was exchanged. Watching them, I could see they sat with eyes closed on the bench, directing their awareness inward. I figured they must be seasoned sauna veterans. Precisely because of that, they were clearly mindful of sauna etiquette. The proof: I could hear them talking before I arrived — it was just the two of them — but from the moment I walked in, they didn't say a single word. I felt genuinely lucky to share the space with guests this considerate. At the beginning, I wrote that a great sauna experience is the time when the mind becomes empty. But if someone in a sauna built around the concept of quiet stillness were chatting away, healing the mind would be impossible. Their voices would pull at your attention and build stress. That's precisely why healing the mind is the ultimate challenge — it's something you can only achieve together with the other guests in the room. In my second set too, I was able to focus entirely on my inner world. All that existed was a beautiful sauna, a cold plunge bath, and outdoor relaxation. The only sounds in that quiet space were the hiss of löyly and the rhythm of breathing. I never exchanged a word with the pair, yet I felt as though we were all quietly enjoying the shared experience of being in that space together. Curiously, our timing in the sauna and rest periods aligned almost perfectly throughout, and in the end I spent all four sets in the same space as them. It wasn't deliberate. While in the sauna or resting, I was completely in my own world. I'd hear an inner voice say, "Alright, time for the next set," and my body would rise. It just happened to be the same moment for all of us. I love saunas, but there's no doubt they do too. I'm grateful for the encounter.