Day 13

My alarm woke me up at 5:45. I threw on some clothes and the provided slippers, and headed down to the main temple hall for the 6am service. I left Ed to sleep in. The head priest, wearing a purple robe and a large golden material flat bag slung over one shoulder, greeted me as I entered and another directed me to take a pinch of powdered incense and rub it in my hands. It smelt warm like curry powder.

Walking into the hall I was astounded by the quantity of gold. We sat on the left hand side behind a small wooden alter which lie at the entrance to a partitioned area, within which sat all the monks. Inside the partitioned area stood four golden columns, with a golden alter between and a large ebony and gold cabinet behind. Golden vases with golden flowers sat next to golden cups and candlesticks. Golden mandalas hang from the ceiling and a golden pagoda replica sat on the altar. However, no photos are permitted in the main hall, so you will have to take my word for it.

The service began with the head monk chanting lyrically “om”, which changed into a serious of syllables. After less than a minute the other four monks contributed to form a tutti. The chant was clearly words, though in Japanese (I think) so I could not discern what was being said. The scale was pentatonic, and sat heavily on a single note. The melody wobbled, like an unstable vibrato and periodically one of the monks would rattle symbols together or strike a metal stick against a metal surface, punctuating the melody. Though unfamiliar, something about the chorus was warming in this chilly temple.

During the chorus members of the ‘congregation’ individually knelt before the wooden altar behind the monks, took a pinch of incense, dropped it into a bowl with a candle inside, and bowed their head in prayer. Though offered, I declined, being merely an observer.

After around 30 minutes the Head monk was handed a karaoke microphone and spoke in a conversational tone to us. I could discern little of what he said other than that he made occasional reference to his mother; I assumed he must be introducing himself and the temple. When he was finally finished we circled the hall observing the hundreds of tiny wooden black and gold tombstones with kanji inscribed. My legs were recovering from sitting cross-legged for so long and my balance was unstable. We were also treated to a view of the, otherwise inaccessible, rock garden.

part of the largest rock garden in Japan

After the service I made use of the onsen once more before being served a rice and pickled vegetable breakfast, and checking out for the day. We were to investigate Koyasan before heading to Osaka. We bought a multi-purpose ticket for every ‘attraction’ and an English audio guide.

There were many beautiful buildings. The Konbutsu, the Daito, even the Reihoku museum was beautiful itself, and was full of stunning Edo period paintings and statues of angry buddhas with many arms and with many weapons used to convert the unbelievers and protect sacred grounds.

The Garan (a wide temple ground) was full of shrines used at different times by different people. One of the many curiosities on this journey has been that while I have seen so many grand and ancient temples only very few are more than 500 years old. The vast majority are ‘modern’ (about 50-200 year old) reconstructions. The tumultuous history of Japan, and the construction materials used, has often meant that great temples have been burnt to the ground and rebuilt 6 or 7 times. A similar story is true of some of the buildings within the Garan.

Kondo hall within the Garan

Outside the Kongobuji (headquarters of Shingon Buddhism) was the largest rock garden in Japan, and inside were gorgeous, elaborate paintings upon screen doors (photos prohibited) of plum and cherry trees,  and of the Kukai’s (founder of Shingon Buddhism) journey from Changan, China. One room had four walls, each with a painting of the same willow tree during each of the four seasons. This room was dedicated to Hidetsugu, whose story I found interesting. He was the son of the elder sister of Hideyoshi Toyotomi (the man who unified Japan). When Toyotomi conquered Japan he had no son, and no heir, so he adopted Hitsesugi and made him a regent. Later Toyotomi did have a son and this created a succession problem. Toyotomi wanted Hidetsugu dead and was to order him to commit suicide.  Hidetsugu  fled to Koyasan to become a monk, however, and since monks are forbidden from taking life he could not commit suicide. The ruse did not work, however, since the power of the Daimyo (Feudal lord) was much too great, and he was forced to commit suicide. His family, who did not follow his example, were murdered. Ruthless times indeed.

Attending the Jukai at 1pm was a unique experience. I was not certain what a Jukai was, other than it was some kind of service. We, and around 20 others, entered a prayer hall and all the doors were closed behind us. The room was thrust into near perfect darkness, with only the light of a few candles at the front throwing silhouettes.  The head monk and one other entered from the far corner. They walked to the centre front and the head monk alone was visible, though completely black in front of the candles; no features could be discerned. The head monk began the chanting and we all joined in “na-mu-dai-shi-ba-shi, hen-jo, kon-go” (name of the Kukai). The head priest, appearing only as a silhouette to us then spoke only in Japanese for a while. I late learned that he was reciting the the 10 precepts of Buddhism in Japanese (in case you don't know them: http://www.geocities.com/dpham_001/general/TenPrecepts.html). Afterwards the helping priest called names and each time someone would approach the head priest, bow, take two steps forward, bow again, kneel, receive something, stand, bow, walk backwards two steps without turning, bow, and walk away. The helping monk said something, and I heard “England .......... Khan .......”. Attempting to copy those before me, I carefully rose to my feet and, measuring every footstep in the darkness, made my way to the front. Bowing to the head priest once, and then after two steps closer again, I knelt down. He dramatically waved something small in the dark through the burning smoke of the incense, left then right, and then from above he offered it to me. Now I could see that this was a small, wrapped, piece of paper with a kanji stamp on the front. I took the package, rose, bowed again, backed away two steps, bowed once more, and finally turned to leave. He had handed me the 10 precepts as a kind of certificate; proof of having received the blessing. This was a strange experience, and it was difficult to tell, for me, how many in the room were there as devout believers and how many were, like me, curious to learn and to experience. Perhaps cynicism, but I suspect more belonged to the latter group.

Lastly we headed to Okunion. Okunion is an enormous cemetery inside the forest. The tombs of the most important feudal warlords lay here and, arguably, some of the most important people in the history of Japan. Amongst the dead lay Oda Nubonaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi. These two were instrumental in the unification of Japan. Also laid to rest here are Akechi Mitsuhide (the man who effectively killed Nobunaga, although strictly speaking it was seppuku), the 47 Ronin, and at the farthest point, behind a restricted access point, the Kukai himself (although the Shingon Buddhist’s prefer to say that he is in ‘eternal meditation’).

Resting places of various emperors (separated from the other riff raff)

Running rather late, we left in a hurry and caught the next bus out of Koyasan to the cable cars. We hopped on the segmented ‘cable car’ (though it was actually a funicular). There wasn’t much of a view other than the immediate forestry. Then, hot and uncomfortable, we switched to local trains to get back to Kudoyama. We collected our suitcases from the Nakagawa Ryokan and got train after train, finally making our way to Osaka, and our next hostel.

Basic, but clean and cheap, the place seemed quite nice, and had a pretty bonsai garden on the roof. We were visited by my lovely friend Ai (who works in Osaka) and she left some strange bread-like things in our room. We went out to Dotonbori to get some food and see the lights. Ai led us (somewhat haphazardly) through the train and inscrutable metro system, until we reached our destination. The sky was alight with neon; Osaka has an interesting nightlife. Walking past rows and rows of gaudily decorated restaurants we eventually decided to try something new: kushi katsu. Kushi katsu is skewers of breaded stuff (anything really, meat, vegetables, fish), which you dip into a slightly sweet sauce similar to that found on top of Okonomiyaki. Pretty nice, but I prefer Yakitori. So we drunk beer & sake and were merry.

Heading out into the night again we eventually found ourselves at an okonomiyaki restaurant. Time for the moment of truth: which is better, Hiroshima or Osaka style? In Osaka they don’t use noodles and they mix everything thoroughly before cooking. The result is an almost omelette like cooked batter of tastiness. The Osaka okonomiyaki was great, I have to admit, but my current preference is for the Hiroshima style. In truth, however, the two are so different that it almost doesn’t make sense to compare them.

We drunk some more and passed by an arcade. We stopped in to play the Taiko drumming game again! It works better after a few drinks. I also managed to get in a Yuzu (sour orange) and bitter lemon frozen yoghurt with gummy bears and apricot topping in before the night was out.

Another day in the land of the rising sun draws to its conclusion. Tomorrow we plan to visit Kyoto!