Kyoto
Date: 11 – 14 July
July 11
Another scorcher – 32 °C at 9 am (with 4 am sunrise, 9 o’clock is more like midday back home.) We hired bikes and headed out through the suburbs to Kinkaku-ji, where busloads of tour-guided captives go to gawp at a temple literally covered in gold leaf. The crowd was beyond my comfort level, but I overheard an American woman exclaiming breathlessly about the staggering beauty and serenity as she peered between a wall of backpack-clad tourists to catch a glimpse of the ripples where a carp had just broken the surface.
Luckily on the way there we chanced upon the lovely suburban Kamigoryo Shinto shrine, where only two locals strolled in to commune with some of the 13 spirits that live there, so I have preserved that as my morning’s memory.
Not quite so beset by tour buses was the nearby Ryoan-ji, a Zen Buddhist thing that houses the world’s best zen raked stone garden. I would love to visit it at dawn to fully appreciate its 400-year-old gardens and streams which, even with a growing crowd, radiated the serenity the aforementioned American found in Kinkakuji.
We thought we would be clever and avoid the crowds at the famous Arashiyama Bamboo Forest, so exhausted ourselves biking all the way across town to the Takenomichi park which justifiably boasts one of the “100 best walks in Japan”. By the time we got ourselves up the final hill on our manual bikes in 34° we had lost the will to walk, so we simply rode around the outskirts, admiring the towering bamboo and the astonishing variety of simple but intricate bamboo fencing, before heading slowly home to cool off.
Just across from our hotel is Sumo Chaya Nagiri where the chef, a former sumo wrestler, prepared chanko nabe, the protein-rich stew traditionally eaten by wrestlers to build up their weight. Cooked on a burner on the table in a surprisingly light broth, it contained pork, chicken, tofu and a whole heap of very welcome vegetables.
July 12
Another scorcher. We subwayed to the famous Gion district, home to the Nishiki markets and Pontocho Alley, both deserted before opening hours. There were sadly no geishas posing in the surrounding alleys because Sunday is their day off from being decorative and subservient, and anyway photos of them are strictly prohibited. The heat drove us back into air-conditioned comfort with a visit the Kyoto Owl Forest, a small room next door to the local Mipig cafe where 15 owls are tethered tightly to branches. Putting our animal rights consciences to one side we gazed closely, took photos and gently petted them with the back of our hands only, as instructed.
Home for another cooling shower and rest, then out to see the famous, and endless, red arches at Fushimi Inari along with a solid block of shuffling tourists. I wished I had limited my experience to the publicity photos, but luckily The Navigator spotted another bamboo forest off to one side that was deserted, and we found ourselves walking an untended track through spectacular bamboo, past a few small unkempt shrines, and into someone’s backyard, which provided the memorable experience for the afternoon.
Back to the hotel refuge with another embarrassingly soaked shirt and finally out again for ramen and a wander through the tiny lanes around Gion. The famous restaurant street, Pontocho, was crowded and ghastly but the sunset over the river was about as lovely as I have ever seen.
July 13
Jill braved the heat and went off to see the famous castle with the chirping floors, while I caught a train and walked to a typical Japanese hardware store way out in the suburbs. Bunnings could learn a thing or two in this town.
Jill found a normal (ie superb) lunch in a small restaurant down a tiny lane near our hotel – katsu curry which I will continue to make as a staple when we get home. Happily, the Japanese supermarket near our home stocks Vermont Curry, the top selling roux in Japan.
Shosiein Garden was not much further down the road – thoroughly Japanese with lakes and tea rooms and very pleasant for an hour or so. It’s a part of the Higashi Honganji temple complex which we would visit the next morning, both well-deserving of being on the tour bus circuit, but fortunately not making the cut. Lucky us. We cold showered again because it was 34° again and extremely humid, then took a chance on TeamLab Biovortex.
There are a few of these art installations around Japan, with room after room offering sound and light shows – some of them interactive. Kanji that floated slowly down the walls dissolved when touched, lizards and snakes exploded when stomped on and re-formed just out of reach, and I may have behaved just a tad immaturely for a while. There was a room full of soapy foam, a golden pond to slosh through, no maps or guides or long-winded descriptions patronisingly explaining how we should interpret anything, and it was all very satisfyingly mind-blowing.
Our final dinner was tempura prepared and cooked in front of us – delicious with eel, fish, pork, chicken, and vegetables – light, crispy and wonderful. When the chef called out repeatedly as he poured sauce over the food before serving, all the staff joined in with an echo.
July 14
Speaking of chants, on our last morning we walked a short distance along the road to Higashi Honganji temple complex, housing one of the largest wooden buildings in the world, to hear the monks doing their morning chants. We arrived early, admiring the buildings and a pile of the 15 cm-thick rope woven with human hair and hemp – the former to give it enough strength to hoist the immense roof beams into place. There was no lack of reverence on my part in choosing to take one of the provided chairs onto the tatami mats so that my nanajuroku-year-old knees did not have to assume the lotus position while we were entranced by the monks’ daily devotions.
Back to the hotel for a quick konbini breakfast – the 7-Eleven across the road is always well-stocked with egg sandwiches and ongiri with salmon and mayo – one last visit to a Japanese toilet, which, if you’ve been here, you’ll know is one of this country’s greatest inventions, and a lovely stroll through back streets and alongside a canal to the catch the Shinkansen back to Tokyo. The two hours it took to travel the 500 km contrasted with the hour and a half it took the suburban train to traverse the 70 km from central Tokyo to Narita Airport, although, as expected in this country, it arrived dead on time.
Looking back, it wasn’t the temples or the museums that made Japan memorable. It was the ordinary things done extraordinarily well. Convenience stores that sold genuinely good food. Tiny restaurants serving perfect meals. Trains that simply worked. Streets without rubbish. And everywhere, people quietly trying not to inconvenience anyone else. No country is perfect, but Japan left us wondering what life would be like if a little more courtesy and consideration became everyone’s default setting.
I have a suspicion I’ll find myself bowing to the checkout operator at the supermarket when we get home.