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!

Day 12

Today was the day of our big hike. We got up early and headed out for Jison-in temple. On the way out the elderly lady that looks after Nakagawa Ryokan warned us of the cold at Koyasan, but we had packed extra clothes for that.

After 15 minutes walking along roadsides we reached Jison-in temple and the start of the Choushi-michi (stone marker path road). A choushi is a stone pillar which is used to mark distances, and they are evenly spaced each by one cho (about 109 metres). The Choushi-michi has 180 stone markers leading the way up to the Daimon (main gate) at the entrance to Koyasan. This path was is that supposedly walked by the Kukai, the founder of the esoteric Buddhist sect known as Shingon Buddhism. We decided this 22km hike (which is over 800 metres above sea level) would make seeing Koyasan itself more worthwhile.

One of the many stone markers along the path

So we began our path, with steps. The steps were followed by concrete paths and dirt tracks between orchards. The initial ascent was steep. Very steep. Soon we were treated to marvelous views of Kudayama and the surrounding lands. After 20 cho we stop to have breakfast. Mine was half a packet of nuts, and the salt was exaclty what I needed to replenish already missing salts. Although only having travelled 20 cho, the ascent was so steep, we were sure we must be 400 meters up. By 40 cho we were ready for another short break and the rest of breakfast. We found this stopping point:

Looks like a good spot for a quick break

And this was the view:

Yup, not a bad spot at all

By this point we had left the orchards behind and had entered the forested paths. An endless stream of mathematically ideally placed trees were strewn across the sides of the path, and the ground had turned to broken rock and soil. The air started to get heavy with mist and a chill began to seep under my skin. We put on our hoodies and marched onwards.

By 60 cho we were getting pretty tired, but were surprised to find that the ground had started to even out somewhat, even giving downhill sections. This seemed to be the section where we march along the apex of the ridge between two hilltops. Along the way we were overtaken by two pairs of runners. We would later encounter them on their way back down.

the following 40 cho were fairly straight-forward on relatively flat ground. When we had passed two thirds of the trail we found a tea shop, serving green tea and mochi (a japanese sweet). We took a most welcome break for 10 minutes. It had taken us 4 hours so far. We were on schedule.

We continued on up a steeper section and the ground continued to get more sodden. At one point we passed a cacophony of frogs and I took the opportunity to record the sound. Working our way past several group tours (some groups walk the final third of the path), we carried on though we were sick of marching. The final 30 cho arrived and we pushed up the tempo. 20. not far now. The final ten cho and the ascent ramped up steeper than ever. Each step was arduous. 6 remaining cho. I had miscounted. We had arrived; this is how i knew.

The Daimon gate which marks the entrance to Koyasan

We made our way into Koyasan town proper. The place is literally full of temples and shrines. We eventually found our Shukubo (temple lodgings), Fukuchi-in:

Inside Fukuchi-in's  main gate

The place was enormous. We checked in and received a tour of the premesis. Polished wooden floors creaked under my slippers as we passed by beautifully a painted partition and samurai armour behind glass. But the temple is also a bizarre mix of old and new: it is a well maintained temple with large tatami rooms and rock gardens, but also vending machines and a gift shop. Green exit signs mark the ceilings of corridors with paper thin walls.

We were led to our room. Smaller than that of our previous stay, the room was of a very similar style. We dumped our luggage and, still sweaty from the walk, took the opportunity to use the onsen inside the shukubo. Relaxing in the hot water was bliss after our long hike.

It was starting to get late and all the main "attractions" of town were closing, so we left investigating Koyasan itself for tomorrow. Dinner was brought to our room not long afterwards anyhow. Dinner was comprised of a very large number of small dishes, and was vegan in nature (since Shingon Buddhists may not kill). Much of the food was unrecognisable to me, however in general the dishes were pickled vegetables, tempura battered vegetables, and tofu based, with rice and green tea. Though very strange looking, most were delicious and complemented each other very well.

All kinds of vegan dishes... and 'green salt'

After dinner we attended a calligraphy class. I was instructed to write over a marked kanji sutra, writing also a wish, my name, and the date. So I focused and wrote as carefully as I could for the health of my family. After a short while I started to form rules in my head about how to avoid writing like a 3 year old. Push harder = thicker line. Not too fast, not too slow. down strokes need less ink that horizontals. After one and one half hours I had finished. It look passable, sort of.

Anyway that's it for today. Next, a nose around Koyasan and a trip to Osaka.

Day 11

Today we made our way to Kudoyama, a small town just outside Koyasan (Mount Koya). It was a convoluted route from Hiroshima. We took the Shinkansen to Shin-Osaka first, then took a JR train to Wakayama followed by a local train to Kokawa, then Hashimoto, and finally a train to Kudoyama.

Most of today was spent on the trains. On the local trains we see mostly senior citizens. Old ladies bow and smile warmly when I move to make space for them. Old Japanese men with mole ridden faces and chronic halitosis sit beside me on the bench. I bury myself in my Murakami book and plug myself into my music to pass the time.

We disembarked at Kokowa station for a change over. Looking around I notice that these semi-rural locations are not so very distinct from small towns in the U.K. Besides the inhabitants and the language, there are few clues to discern between the two. Something about the style of the architecture, and the small distances between houses gives it away, but standing on the platform of Kokowa station the world seems very small indeed.

We suddenly witnessed a very rare event. The train was late. The station master individually addressed each group of travellers on the platform. He walked up to me and released a long string of Japanese, of which I understood only ‘Jyu pun’. 10 minutes late, okay. I assume the rest of the statement was an explanation or apology. Sa ne?

We hopped onto the train after ten minutes. There were a handful of senior citizens and a swarm of fresh faced adolescents; girls with perfectly straight jet black hair, pleated blue skirts hanging to their knees, and rucksacks with panda bears and other cute trinkets hanging from them. A rich red tie folded twice upon itself acts as a focal point meeting the apex of their v-line navy cardigans. Long black socks and plain black shoes adorn their feet. Boys wear sleek black formal jackets with gold buttons and only a hint of collar. Trendy white trainers and dark grey suit trousers complete the image. Half have bowed heads as they type furiously on their phones, but the mood is different from inner-city trains and a chorus of high pitched chatter and laughter fills the air. In the next carriage over tiny Japanese school children with bright yellow caps, white shirts and navy blue shorts gleefully spread their wings and wreak havoc. We cannot hear them.

A girl’s face is covered with a white surgical mask. I estimate that one in forty such faces at Japanese railway stations are covered with masks. I am told this is to protect against allergies (and not to stop the spread of germs which is apparently a common urban myth). This activity is ubiquitous amongst old and young, men and women. I do not see any signs of discrimination against those with masks, even among school children, though I am hardly in a position to make such a judgement based on such a brief time frame. I wonder why we do not do the same in England. Is it vanity that prevents us? Then why do young Japanese women, with their perfect make-up and so meticulous with their outfits, also partake in this behaviour?

We change at Hashimoto and board a Nankai train for Koyasan. The already pretty landscape recedes to reveal widely spaced rural locations with detailed and undeniably beautiful forest covered hillsides.

Before long we arrive at our final destination: Kudoyama. Koyasan looms over Kudoyama, a town which is sprawled at its base in a seemingly random fashion.

 We had not planned well for our next leg of the journey. The Instructions given by Nakagawa Ryokan from the station were ambiguous. We took our best guess and found ourselves at the entrance to a fairly quick country road with little in the way of architecture beyond. Must have gone wrong. Ed tried to use his phone's GPS but he was reaching his data limit. A middle aged but strong-looking Japanese man passed nearby and I took the opportunity to seek local help. "Nakagaw Ryokan wa doko desu ka?". "Nakagawa Ryokan?" he responded before firing off a number of sentences in Japanese of which I understood just enough to determine that we were to take two left turns and proceed for 300 metres. I was pretty pleased with myself for all the effort I put in to learning Japanese for the journey. So we lugged our suitcases onwards. Next problem. Everything here is written in kanji and I can only read the hiragana and katakana. As I may have mentioned before, many of the ordinary rural buildings look somewhat like shrines and temples to my naive eyes. After checking the GPS again, asking a few more bystanders, and carefully observing a picture of the building we finally narrowed in on our destination.

The Ryokan had a small shrine in the reception area. All other floors were covered with tatami or carpet, and the walls, though wooden, were thin enough that simply walking along the corridor was sufficient for the entire building to creak and shake. "How did ninjas ever do their work?" I wondered. A kind looking middle-aged gentlemen greeted us and, after we removed our shoes, lead us to our room. The room was stunning, easily more than 4 times the size of any of the previous rooms. This was, in fact, only half of the accomodation because we had a separate bedroom and living room. The furnishings were sparse, but pretty and clean, and the space afforded by the lack of furnishings was easy to enjoy.

The sparsely decorated, yet beautiful, living room.

Ed and I just happened to be enjoying some green tea when the camera accidentally went off. Yes, I'm a kid.

Our host asked after our dinner plans and when we asked for his recommendation he offered to show us a good restaurant and to meet him downstairs at 6. He pointed out that the restaurant was also an onsen. That seems odd. Oh well I'll find out soon. Time to begin nosing around the room and after some repacking of the suitcase we headed downstairs. He led us to his gun-metal Audi Quattro (that makes a change from the box-cars, he must be doing okay). We got into the car and a recording of a high pitched Japanese lady offered advice. Our host offered to show us the temple at the start of the hiking route we would begin tomorrow morning, Jison-in temple. We chatted for a few minutes about our plans.

After a few minutes we pulled up at a parking spot circumscribed by a few houses and a Collosal wall. We walked towards the nearby wooden gate built into the wall, and found ourselves standing at the foot of Jison-in temple. Impressive. Through the open gate the temple complex was visible as well as a further set of steps and torii behind. The path tomorrow held could not be marked more clearly. Walking inside our host explained that the Shingon monks built this wall and gate to defend their sect of esoteric Buddhism against the nearby Tokugawa clan. Walking further into the temple complex the layout appeared to be similar to others we had seen. A modest (by Japanese standards) pagoda stood to the right, and temple buildings to the left with a path which lay between.

We headed between the two temple halls and spotted a large number of pairs of breasts. Or rather, effigies of breasts, as these were dislocated from bodies, made from some kind of white/pink cloth with deep pink bobbles stuck centrally on each. Our host explained that at this time of the year people pray for the fertility of women, adding “please do not touch them”. The contrast between the stunning temple complex and the slightly childish looking effigies of breasts might seem surprising but, having seen so many apparent contrasts in this country, I have since become immune to the effect of such minor strangenesses.

And you thought I was joking!

We wrapped up the brief tour of the temple complex and got back in the car. A few more minutes and we arrived at a 4 storey building with a small balcony on the 2^nd floor. Our host pointed and said “out-door onsen”. 'Awesome', I thought.

We headed inside and our host spoke with the lady at the reception while we removed our shoes and found a locker for them (removing your shoes is common practice in Japanese-style restaurants to protect the tatami and keep it clean). We walked back over to the reception desk and the receptionist traded our keys for a bag with towels and new keys. Our host arranged to pick us up in two hours and left. We headed up to the second floor and found the lockers which matched our keys. Stripping naked and taking only the two towels (one small and one less small) with me I headed through the doors. In the near left corner were booths of sit-down shower cubicles. Just beyond the cubicles was a small rock fountain with hot water running into the first pool, around 8 by 8 feet, and then subsequently running into another slightly cooler pool of the same size. On the right hand side were the steam room, sauna, cold pool, and another pool inside a closed of section. At the far side of the room was a door leading to the balcony.

I headed over to the showers first. Each cubicle had a mirror, excellent for feeding the vanity of any particularly arrogant specimen of a male, which I am. Also, and primarily, of value for the many men who take this opportunity to shave. I made myself thoroughly clean and warmed up inside the pool just below the fountain. It was hot, not unbearable but rather a little hot and quite enjoyable. After a few minutes I headed out to the balcony. There was a small and shallow pool, perhaps thigh deep, and 7 by 12 feet. Heading in I lay almost fully submerged with my head resting on the step and closed my eyes. The wind was gusting with a hint of smoke, and the slightly bitter chill stung my face while the warm water heated me through. In the distance Koyasan and his brothers loomed above the Kudoyama town.

I closed my eyes. Bliss. I suddenly became aware of the rather strange lullaby being played on a glockenspiel. I opened my eyes reflexively and spotted the CCTV camera built into the ceiling. I did not particularly mind, but I was immediately conscious that such a thing would almost certainly not be allowed in the U.K. Then it clicked. The hot water and the lullaby do a great job of sending you to sleep. If I start to drown I’d be happy someone’s watching. I smiled and gave a wave, before leaning my head back again to rest. After a short while an elderly lady, a janitor, walked in and checked whether various bowls and supplies needed replacing and checked the cleanliness of the pools and floors. I felt no embarrassment. Why would I? No one else seemed to mind, so normalised were they to this procedure.

After 30 minutes I periodically visited the cold pool to clear my head. The heat did a fantastic job of forcing me to relax, but it also made me woozy and toyed with my balance. I left after an hour, first spending a few minutes standing by the balcony and enjoying the contrast of the bitter wind and the night view of Koyasan.

After I had returned to the locker rooms and changed back into my clothes I sat down and realised just how thoroughly relaxed I had become. None of my muscles wanted to move, though they felt sufficiently light to do so, and my neck was not particularly inspired to hold up my head. Unbelievable. I don’t understand why we don’t have onsen in the U.K. Everything about the experience is rewarding, and the use of a public bath must surely also be a societally equalising factor?

Regardless we headed up to the 3^rd floor where the restaurant was based. I had just noticed that I was hungry and the tantalising scent of Japanese cooking was in the air. The restaurant was a huge tatami floor half covered with ‘western-style’ tables and chairs, and half covered with Japanese-style short tables and floor-chairs (the seat and back of a chair without legs). We were directed over to a table. The waitress did not speak English although she could speak and understand certain words. It was enough, and frankly impressive considering Koyasan is not a famous tourist destination for foreigners. I ordered a wonderful fish tempura set menu which came with miso soup (of course!), rice, various pickled vegetables, and a cup of delicious green tea. Ed ordered the Beer set menu. He couldn’t really tell what it was except that it came with a free beer.

One of the best meals I've had. Tempura is sooo good!

My dinner arrived first and its beautiful presentation matched its taste. Ed’s dinner arrived shortly after. Chips! Really? Chips? I cracked myself up laughing. Ed seemed to have microwave oven chips with his octopus (which he kindly donated to me :D), tofu with spring onion and bonito flake garnish, and other less recognisable food stuffs such as pickled vegetables. 

eating chips with chopsticks. Yes!

We finished dinner right on time, settled up (less than £35 all in for both of us!), and were driven back to the ryokan. As I write this I sit on the tatami floor at the Japanese style table in the living room section of our accommodation dressed in the casual mens Yukata provided. Nice.

Despite all the travelling it turned out to be a fantastic day. Much more than I bargained for with this, our first, ryokan. Tomorrow we take on the 22km hike up the stone marker path to the summit of Koyasan, and sleep at an onsen-shukubo at the top. I can’t wait!

Thanks for reading. Sorry this post was delayed but it turns out that traditional lodgings such as this don’t come with wi-fi (even in Japan!).