Day 14

We got up and, bringing along the strange bready things Ai left behind, hopped on the trains. Eating first a sweet red bean bun, and then a curry filled bun for breakfast I was on my way to Kyoto.

Kyoto station is enormous. Huge and modern.  It took us about 5 minutes just to walk outside, but we eventually did and, finding a tourist information office, grabbed some leaflets. We decided to hire some bikes and headed off to one of the rental shops. Since Ed was so irritated by the previous bike, we rented some quite nice road bikes and headed off to Nonoji Castle.

Cycling in a Japanese city is kind of perilous. The rule is, cycle on the pavement, if you like, or on the road, if you prefer, just don’t hit anyone. Easier said than done. For a country whose inhabitants tend to strictly follow the rules (even in the city centre most people won’t cross the road if the light is still red), cyclist are strangely lawless. Cyclists weave in and out of pedestrians almost haphazardly, sometimes while texting on their mobile. At the same time neither pedestrians nor cyclists stick to the marked zones of the pavement. This creates a bizarrely dangerous scenario in a place where most pedestrians are exceedingly polite about causing obstruction.

We somehow managed to reach Nonoji in one piece and bought tickets and an audio guide. Again no photos were allowed of the beautiful wall paintings on the inside, but this is the front of the castle: 

The main building at Nonoji Castle

The castle was the place of residence of Tokugawa Iieyasu, and was expanded and possessed by 14 subsequent Tokugawa shoguns until it was finally handed over to the Imperial family in the late 1800s. Inside the wide wooden corridors squeak as you walk along them. This is in fact by design. It’s known as ‘nightingale floor’ and is a method of carefully selecting and fitting joints and supports in such a way that it is not possible to cross the floor without creating some noise. As such, this flooring is a defensive measure used to track intruders. Additionally the main room used by the Shogun for entertaining other feudal lords is set up so that doors to the side of the shogun could easily spring open allowing bodyguards to flood in should an assassination be attempted.

The garden outside the main castle is gorgeous and was designed to be most beautiful from the direction of the window of this main entertaining room. Even without being told of the design, it is clear that this is the most aesthetically pleasing viewpoint:

The garden of Nonoji from the ideal viewpoint

Other sections of the castle were later added, including a western palace with its own moat and gates. Behind these gates lay a non trivial pathway with small windows in the sides of the walls. This is another defensive measure designed to bottleneck and thin out intruders. The other palace was not open, unfortunately, and we finished exploring the remains of the gardens.

Workers painstakingly optimise the aesthetic of the garden by picking weeds and trimming trees

 We bought a ticket for a ‘tea ceremony’, but were disappointed to find that there was really no ceremony involved. I was disappointed not to see how the tea was made, although it was delicious.

Slighty foamy green tea and a sweet bean thing

It was getting late in the afternoon and we wanted to see the Golden Pavillion before it closed, so we rushed off that way. I was starting to get the hang of the lunacy of this cycling method. If you completely abandon fear and adopt the absolute policy of “don’t hit anyone” it all seems to work out just fine.

We got to the Golden Pavillion, sweating in the blistering sunshine, and bought our tickets. Walking around some pathways we saw an opening and beheld the main attraction.

Strictly no photos, except the thousands of school kids taking photos; and us.

The pavilion is intricate and beautiful, though I personally find it kind of garish (I prefer the look of the wood!). The surrounding gardens are stunning also. The waters are calm, with the faint gurgling of a fountain in the distance, and the tree leaves are clouds of green and red. But despite the stunning beauty, I must confess that my main emotion upon seeing the pavilion was irritation. So many people were around, school children, tourists, the noise and commotion was cacophonous. I could barely hear the gently gurgling fountain, and if there was a breeze I did not feel it. So much dust kicked up that I could barely smell the pine zesty air.

Perhaps I just don’t like people. Maybe that’s what it is. But I couldn’t help nurturing the thought that there is no value here. None at all. This is not what this place was made for. Where is the tranquillity? Where is the serenity, for which this garden was cultivated? It is broken. And it is a terrible, terrible waste.

A little disheartened, we moved onwards. There was a nearby shrine which was recommended and did not close at 5, so we paid it a visit. A concrete torii marked the entrance, and tombstones lined the paths. I took a moment to study my map before continuing while Ed took various photos. Like this one: 

If you don't cover it in gold then you won't live forever, or Buddha won't love you, or something

The main shrine had rather lovely buildings too, and was much larger than I had imagined. But there was something more important here: the peace that was lacking at the pavilion.

I look around. A younger and older man play badminton casually. A lady sits and eats her nigiri (looking slightly perturbed when Ed takes a photo nearby). There is shade from the trees, and distance enough from the streets to make this a place of respite from the concrete jungle. Though perhaps this site was not built with the purpose in mind, I think such places as this often serve as a place of respite in Japan. They act like a communal park, not designed for play so much as retreat. I would much rather spend time in this place than around the golden pavilion, and I don’t think I understand the value in taking a photo of something before walking on past, never to see it again, and never having really experienced it while you were there.

It was starting to get late and we needed to make our way back to the bike rental place soon. On the way, we stopped by the Imperial palace (which is closed for the next 5 days) to see if we could see anything interesting from the outside. An old man on a bicycle tried to speak with us, but his English was not very good and we didn’t understand. We flagged down another cyclist, a young lady, whose English was a little better and she translated. The man was informing us (after seeing Ed’s camera) that tomorrow there would be a parade with traditional Japanese costumes for Aoi matsuri. Very kind to go to so much trouble just to inform us (perhaps there was more to be conveyed but he decided against it). Sa ne?

Getting very close to the return time we sped absurdly along one of the main central north-south streets through Kyoto. We returned the bikes and headed back to the train station. While aimlessly searching for some free wi-fi I saw a sign for a ‘sky garden’ and was intrigued. We headed up escalator after escalator, even outdoors and up more escalators (they’re waterproof?), until we were finally on the roof of the 11 storey train station. A small garden, and a stunning view of the city and the station awaited us.

Kyoto at night

This is a popular area for couples to hang out at night-time, and I can understand why, it is a rather romantic place to be. There's also a neat 'skyway' on the tenth floor which goes across the inside of the station and has views out across Kyoto.

Anyway we caught a late train back and grabbed some Gyudon (beef and rice), except ours was actually pork (katsu don, maybe?), quickly for dinner. The cheapest meal we've had and, by fast food standard, really excellent.

Who knows what tomorrow will hold? will it be a trip to Kobe or Nara? or will we investigate Osaka itself? Tune in next time to find out!