Day 16

Nara today! On my way out I picked up 'kansai scene', a free magazine written in English. I started to read it on the train. The main article had photos of girls licking doorknobs. The article was really about stereotyping and lazy journalism though. An artist took photos of girls licking doorknobs because he thought they would be attention grabbing, but the western media tends to portray this kind of thing as the latest fad in Japan, and therefore yet another example of Japan craziness. But in Japan most people have not heard of these photos, and consider them a bit crazy. This kind of thing does happen a lot. I remember an article about the new Japanese fad of wearing LEDs behind your teeth (http://www.ndtv.com/article/technology/new-japanese-fashion-led-lights-for-your-teeth-81184). It turned out, of course, that the Japanese 'students' were paid actors working for a marketing ploy, and the LED mouthpieces were never for sale.

The article pointed out that earlier this year 4000 people rode the NY subway without trousers (http://improveverywhere.com/2012/01/08/no-pants-subway-ride-2012-new-york-reports/). If such unusual behaviour was reported as yet another example of U.S. craziness, it would no doubt be met with derision, and there would be further stereotyping of our cousins across the pond.

I wondered about my blog and the image of Japan I portray. In some ways I am doing much the same thing, (although my work is intended to chart my perceptions and experiences, not sell newspapers). Even so I want to set the record straight. I have seen many weird and wonderful things here, and some of them are commonplace (like the wonderfully sensible toilet-sink). On the other hand, one of my overwhelming impressions of Japan has been that's its not so different from the U.K. It has a similar climate, though a little more humid and warm. It has cities full of teenagers discovering love (and pain) and business men exhausted after a tough day at work, both far too busy and wrapped up in their own worlds to notice a tourist onlooker. It has old people trying to navigate the rush of the streets, with a little more time for pleasantries than the young. It has beautiful rural locations full of pine trees and rivers, with rooks, deer, pigeons and carp, all making and sustaining their homes. It has people going about their daily lives, wearing 'normal' clothes, doing 'normal' things, and it has the people who live at the edges of normality. And while its important to note the cultural differences (the value placed on the communal activity of eating, for example, is higher) it is unfair to categorize this place, or its people, only by their differences. Such a thing undermines both our understanding of the nation, and our capacity for empathy with its people.

There was an excellent quote by Barbara Holthus of the German Institute for Japanese Studies. "One should be cautious about the casual use of the term stereotype, since the word itself is a difficult one. Our world is very complex. Humans need to make it less complex, and to do so, there is an absolute need to stereotype things that we don't personally know about. So stereotypes per se are not 'bad'. But if they are thoughtlessly used, in other words, if we let stereotypes turn into prejudice, then we have a problem."

The train pulled in at Nara. Walking through the station, a lady wearing two flags poking up from her back handed us fliers offering a guided tour of the main Nara attractions for 2000Y. My curiosity was piqued, I was not looking forward to simply wandering by enormous relics devoid of context or story, and the idea of having a guide appealed. Ed was not enthused. I figured, 2000Y is not cheap and the group probably would slow us down so I let it go. We headed out into the town square, and then immediately ducked into the adjacent tourist office. Picking up a map I spotted various fliers for volunteer guides offering a walking tour for free. Ed looked far from thrilled by the idea, but I persevered and asked at the main desk. The receptionist called a student guide to assists us. When she had finished she told me to head to another tourist office, on the way to the Nara attractions. "Her name is Keiko, she is waiting for you."

So we trundled off in the direction we had already planned to go. The suns rays pounded down in waves, like a bad headache. We stepped inside the information centre and asked after Keiko. The staff asked us take a seat and said she is on her way, but I got the distinct impression that they had no idea when she might arrive. I couldn't be certain they even knew who I was talking about. So we sat and waited a few minutes. I looked around aimlessly: books, leaflets etc. Nothing of special interest. The staff at the desk were fussing over some other customer now. Looking forward again I noticed a young woman outside through the glass wall. she wore a sunhat, glasses, and a lanyard around her neck. She looked like she was looking for someone. I rose to ask a member of staff. A man rushed over asking me to be patient. I pointed at the young lady outside the window and asked 'is that Keiko?'. It took him a few seconds, a remarkably long time really, to notice that she looked rather like a guide. He dashed outside to ask. I followed and introduced myself to our waiting guide, subsequently fetching Ed who seemed to be a little in his own world.

Keiko, about 5'6" and a little slight, was extremely friendly and polite, and had great, though not perfect, English. Together we all made our way to the first attraction: Kofuku ji. We learned that Keiko is a 21 year old masters student. I wondered why such a person would spend her free time helping visitors. Perhaps there is a university incentive of some kind, I wondered.

We headed to Kofuku-ji meaning something like 'happiness-making temple'. We arrived at a small shrine with baby Buddhas as we had seen before. Keiko pointed out that this is a memorial to dead babies and children. Since to die so young implies great evil, they must be in Hell, so we throw water onto the statues to cool the fire. The redness of the bibs is to repel demons.

Evil babies

Moving onwards we approached a 3 storey pagoda. Keiko explained that the three floors of the tower represent past, present, and future. She also directed our attention to the 9 rings on the needle of the pagoda.10 is considered a perfect number in Buddhism, she said, but if you have perfection the people will be lazy and will not try harder, so we only have 9 rings.

Continuing down the lane Keiko went on to explain, at my behest, the role of the the strange and complex ornament on the rooftop of some temple buildings, stating that because wooden buildings are prone to fires the shape acts like a sprinkler and there is a hand pump built into it. Next we saw the tomb of Fujiwara no hito (the Fujiwaras). Fuji means wysteria, and wara means field. Fujiwara no hito used to run Nara back in the 8th century when Nara was the capital. I was impressed by Keiko's knowledge. I did not know how well informed a student guide would be.

Turning a corner we saw nursery children all holding hands in a circle with teachers singing a song. I asked Keiko and she translated the lyrics "if all of the children smile we'll create one big smile". It reminded me a little of the hokey kokey. We came across another pagoda, this time with five levels. Each level represents one of the 5 elements. Earth, water, fire, wind, and sky.

We left Kofukuji and took a quick stop at a small centre unmarked on the tourist map. The modern building was thoughtfully designed. At the rear an old lady chuckled to herself beside the artificial stream as the goldfishes rushed towards her, eager to be fed. Ed and I had a quick go on the earthquake simulator inside: a chair that slid left an right in the pattern of the shaking of a quake. I have been in an earthquake before, though a small one, and although it is clear, while sitting in this chair, that you are perfectly safe it is easy to imagine how terrifying it might have been for real. There were three earthquake settings meant to mimic the feel of real earthquakes, the third setting was the recent Tohoku earthquake at Sendai. A fourth setting was the Tohoku earthquake again, but with a seismic isolation system activated. The ground rolled slowly to the left and right, but felt completely stable. Underneath the museum we saw the full size isolation system.

We marched on to the next destination: Todaiji Temple, the largest wooden building in the world. It's very impressive. Perhaps even more impressive is the fact that, like many Japanese historical buildings, it was rebuilt after a fire and the original building was 150% of the size of this one.

The enormous Todai-ji

Huge numbers of school children were visting and Keiko pointed out that this is the field trip season for schools. We wandered around the inside of the temple while Keiko explained what the buddhas symbolised and why they look as they do. One of the construction quirks I found fascinating was that the stones of the path leading up to the Todaiji were from India, China, Korea, and Japan (moving from the centre of the path to the edge), to symbolise the path which Buddhism took to travel to Japan.

Next we went up to Niigatsu do, a hall up on the hillside with a great view over Nara. Keiko pointed out that the pillars which look like slim tombstones are actually names and figures indicating the donations made by people to the temple. While standing on the balcony of Niigatsu do, Ed was accosted by a group of primary school children. He completed a short interview and signed off their sheets for them.

eto... can I help you?

We also got a photo in front of the Niigatsu do with Keiko. I used what is quickly becoming my most natural sounding phrase in japanese, "shashin o totte kurema senka?", and I heard Kieko mutter "Sugoi Nihon go". Awesome, that beats the usual, polite, 'Nihon go no jose'. And here it is:

Me, Keiko and Ed stand in front of Niigatsu Do and a horde of school children

I tried some Mitarashi Dango (rice balls dipped in sweeted soya sauce. Very good!) on the way out of the Niigatsu Do and Todaiji complex. Next we needed to get some lunch, having not had any breakfast, so Keiko took us to a restaurant where I could try some Kakinohazushi (even though she doesn't like it and recommended against it!). Kakinohazushi is sushi wrapped in persimmon leaves, which makes the sushi a little sour. The restuarant was on the second floor (a gift shop on the first), and had a rather nice view of the Todaiji. We ordered our meal sets and the food arrived:

This is the first sushi I have ordered in Japan, amazingly, and I have to say I was not disappointed. Perhaps the Kakinohazushi which Keiko tried before was a bad example, or maybe the sushi I received was more bland than usual, but it was only very slightly tangy and delicious. The tempura, with green tea salt, raddish, and lemon was amazing, of course. And the pickled vegetables were also delicious. The noodle soup was light and refreshing, and the fresh fish and mochi were also wonderful. A flawless lunch indeed!

More amazing Japanese food including my first Japanese sushi!

While eating we chatted about various things, work, university, languages, etc. I asked Keiko why she chose to give up her free time to show tourists around Nara, was it to practice her Japanese? "Two reasons" she said, "first, it's most important to help out tourists. Second, I can improve my English. But I think it's win-win". I admired that she considered helping others more important, and was willing to give up her time to do it. It reminded me of the rescript on education by emperor Meiji and how it says to "advance public good and promote common interests". I was slightly surprised when she changed the subject and said "do you use rude words? Like, in normal conversation do you say fucking and things?". It took a second to figure out that she was asking us if it was common, in English, to use rude words for emphasis during conversation. I confirmed her suspicion and learned that it apparently is also common in colloquial Japanese.

If you get lost, just follow the lanterns

We headed out to the Kasuga Grand Shrine. Kasuga supposedly has three thousand lanterns! I don't know if it's true, but there are so many, it could be. The path to the main shrine building was long, and full of trees, grass, streams, and deer (Nara is famous for having wild deer roam about almost everywhere). Keiko explained that since the gods of Shinto represent aspects of nature, the shrine grounds must reflect this.

Delightful looking wysteria branch, my dear

Inside the main shrine the monks wear a small wysteria branch on their head to symbolise the now deceased Fujiwara family, and Wysteria plants are grown.

We grabbed an ice cream on the way back to the tourist information office and said our farewells to Keiko. We got a train back to Osaka, and nosed around in the local 100Yen shops (waaay better than pound shops) before heading back to the hostel to rest for a bit.

A little bit later and as the sun set we made our way to Osaka station. Out of the platform we headed north to the attractive Umeda sky building. The building itself vaguely resembles two skyscrapers with a U.F.O. trapped between. It has an open air ring on top which sits at 173m above sea level. Up here the breeze is gentle and cool. Ultraviolet lights attached to the inner glass wall turn the floor into a bed of stars. Lovers hold each other, kiss, and have their photo taken.

(X-files theme tune plays inside my head)

When I raise my eyes from the building itself the city of Osaka shines. Red and white stars on tall buildings pulse at eye level and the city glitters behind them. Cranes sit on rooftops and dangle lines, fishing in the street. Illuminated lifts sweep along the vertical planes of hotels, while trains weave between them on the horizontal curling as spaghetti on a fork. Planes, lights in the sky, growl as they glide down to earth. From another view 6 parallel bridges cross the river and the two sides do battle, shooting cars and trains like fiery arrows across the divide. 

Watching the trains and cars is a joy from up here

I am humbled, once more, by the power of science and the man hive. The world around me is so perfectly terraformed away from anything natural, and in all 360 degrees the city stretches outwards indefinitely. From up one can see the millions who scurry below, living out their little lives. Striving, caring, loving, and dying. And that I am but one of them is painfully clear, and highlights my insignificance.
At the same time I enjoy this place in a way similar to the beach on Sakurjima, the peaks of mount Misen, or the Kaiyukan (aquarium). From up here I can watch the writhing and stretching of the living organism we call Osaka, and almost the same sense of serenity may be found, as though this is an urban shrine for the secular. Perhaps it is simply the sense of isolation from people and the experience of beauty which generate this feeling of reverence. Shinto shrines use a buffer of nature around them, buddhists use mediation and construct giant Buddhas, and the Abrahamic religions utilise prayer and construct enormous cathedrals, mosques and synagogues; all to force the individual to slow their mental state from everyday affairs and plunge them into a state of reverence. Yes, all that is required is an impression that something is so much greater than oneself, and the mindfulness to notice it, for there to be reverence and, ultimately, worship.


But whatever the psychology, this place, the Umeda Sky Building, offers the mindful observer an opportunity for a rare moment of poignance.


It also makes me think, people, myself included, try so desperately to capture a piece of such places with photos and words. But the sense of being here cannot be meaningfully caught, at least not with today's technological miracles. But, so desperate are we to convey what we feel, we spend more time futilely trying to capture what we should be experiencing. I have said it before but I cannot understand the tourist who takes his photo and leaves without ever really seeing, hearing, or experiencing.


We stayed for a good two hours before eventually descending and finding a ramen shop near the train station. This concludes the activities of day 16. Tomorrow we return to Kyoto, to see the important bits we missed before!

Arigato gozaimasu!

Ki o tsukete kudasai!

Day 15

We got up and decided to make a day trip to Kobe. I wanted to see the Sake breweries and learn a bit about how it's made. So we boarded a few trains and headed for Sannoimya in central Kobe. We ate half a 'delicious bread' (bread with sugar on) each for breakfast on the trains. We got there and wandered about in search of a tourist information centre. We found one and followed the map guidance to our first destination: Sawa no tsuru, a brewery and sake museum.

We inevitably got lost and took a 45 minute detour around the modern functioning harbour. It was windy, and threatened to rain. We walked on paving past fast roads and wharfs with tugboats dragging larger boats with steel ropes, over a suspension bridge and, eventually, back on track to our first destination.

Sawa no tsuru, contrary to the advice of wikitravel, did not have a great deal of information in English, and the English leaflet provided only covered the broadest of strokes. While certain aspects of the process were fairly self explanatory (like rice washing/steaming), others were more cryptic (rice polishing?).

Giant vats for steaming and storing rice

The gift shop was better, however. Free tasting of one sake was offered. It was good, quite clean and simple tasting. I like that. A Junmai Daiginjo I wanted to taste wasn't free however, and I bought a glass for 500Y (~4 pounds). Fruity! and smooth, as Daiginjo's often are (which explains their price tag). Very good, but not quite good enough to persuade me to buy the bottle for 40 pounds.

We headed out and off to our next destination: the Hakutsuru brewery. This name might ring a bell for some English readers. Hakutsuru is one of the more prominent internationally known brewers (check the name on that bottle you were given as a gift but never opened ;-) ). Walking through the wind and, now also, rain towards the local train station I was conscious of the mild inebriation I was under, having not had much breakfast, and having had two 'shots' of (16-18% spirit). Not a problem, but I probably shouldn't drive.

We made our way through the miserable weather and eventually, after getting lost again, found the Hakutsuru brewery. It was set up in much the same way as the Sawa no tsuru brewery, except that tv screens with buttons labeled 'English' were present. This made the tour much more meaningful. The videos had a set formula in which they described each brewing process in chronological order; first outlining the traditional method, and then explaining the modern way to (mass) produce the same result. Of course regardless of the process, the modern solution was almost always "nowadays we put it in a stainless steel container and a machine does it". Still very informative though. Making sake the traditional way was unbelievably hard and painful work because it could only be done during the winter months (the rice needed to be kept in the cold). This meant running hands and feet through freezing cold water as well as constantly kneading and stirring doughy mixtures of rice and Koji (a bacterium).

There was another free shot of sake to taste at the end. As I suspected would be the case, I was not a fan of the Hakutsuru sake. It had a strong and unpleasant aftertaste at the back of my tongue.

Sake based moisturisers. One of them is called "Rice Beauty, Dramatic Repair".

We left and by now I was starting to get very hungry indeed. We headed back to Sannomiya to look for a food venue. It seems to me that restaurants work slightly differently in Japan. They tend not to open until around 4pm, and they are often positioned all in one place in a city (sometimes all on the same street). So we wandered aimlessly in search of that one, special street only to find that restaurants weren't ready to open. We settled for a chinese restaurant in a shopping mall (such venues don't abide by these rules because they have to close earlier, i.e. when the mall closes). Mediocre but reasonably priced rice, ramen, and gyoza made up our lunch.

The weather still being miserable, we decided to abandon going to Meriken park in Kobe, and caught a train back to Osaka with the intention of going to the Kaiyukan (Osaka aquarium). After various changes we arrived at Sakurajima (same name as the volcano!) station. We headed towards the aquarium to find that we were on the wrong 'island' (the bay area has a few artificial islands). As we discovered this, however, we stumbled across a passenger ferry and decided to give it a shot. Not clear on the price, times, or general procedure for using the ferry, we waited with cyclists who seemed to be queuing. The ferry arrived and we boarded. The captain piloted the ferry like a motorcycle, lots of power and little finesse, so the journey was short but fun. We arrived at the correct island for free and, passing by a large Ferris wheel and amusement arcade, purchased our tickets for the aquarium.

I have to say that the aquarium was pretty amazing. I guess the London Aquarium is my only point of comparison, but the Kaiyukan was worlds apart. Famous for having a whale shark, we were disappointed to find that the whale shark has been moved to the kochi prefecture, and replaced by a shoal of sardines. While a shoal of sardines is nowhere near as impressive as a whale shark, sitting and watching the flocking algorithm at work in a shoal is incredibly hypnotic. The main tank of the aquarium is incredibly large and the whole building is effectively a spiral ramp around it. The tank is full of a variety of fish including sharks and rays. This mixes things up nicely when the shoal explodes into a torus to flee from the periodic intrusion of a diving shark.

Come on guys, work together and you can look just like a whale shark!

Windows 9 desktop background

After a few hours I had exhausted the memory on my camera and we left, homeward bound. Walking past the arcade I noticed two machines labelled 'Metal Gear Arcade'. Big fans of the series we had to give them a try. We donned the cool 3D glasses, adjusted the microphone, wielded the fake SMGs, and... worked our way through a dozen menu screens in Japanese. Damn Konami do not understand what an arcade game is. When we finally got into the game it turns out to be a 3D shooter with the camera controlled by head motion. It takes a little bit of getting used to but is pretty fun.

Take that you sons of... the patriots. Who doesn't love a good MGS pun?

We finally made our way back to the hostel by a different route (there was a train line on the correct island too). I got pretty hungry again so we nipped out to what was described to me as a 'korean izakaya'. Not a bad description. An elderly Korean couple that spoke little English were running the joint. We ordered a couple of beers and I pointed at a picture of something that looked interesting and had a fried egg on top (a pretty common sight in Japanese restaurants).

The lady brought our beers and also brought 'Se-bi-su'. Yay! more free stuff! It was a red stringy thing which was a little spicy and coated in a sticky sesame sauce. Delicious. I asked her 'nan desu ka?', and she told me it was 'Kankoku Kimchi'. Korean Kimchi. Not a description which I found very helpful at the time. A subsequent wiki tells me that it was some kind of vegetable. My rice, bacon, egg, and vegetable spicy okonomiyaki-like thing arrived and we dug in! Awesome.

Now it's late and I need some sleep. The incessant bleeping of the nearby train station kept me from getting much last night. Why did we leave the window open!? Baka! Tomorrow: Nara and the famous Todaiji hall!

Take care folks!

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!

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!).