Journeys in Japan- Rain or SHRINE

Golden Week lived up to its name. The national holiday gave me, as well as my fellow trainees, the golden opportunity to travel outside of the city. We met up on Monday night for drinks, which turned out a bit more raucous than originally intended; but the next morning we were up bright and early and hungover to get on a train. All except one, who no longer felt up to it after the previous night's debauchery. By some miracle, another trainee, who we hadn't gotten in touch with for weeks and assumed had fled the country due to the stress from work, showed up to take the other's spot. He hadn't gotten internet in his apartment until the night before. He only carried a skateboard and a wallet- not even a passport- for our overnight trip. Typical carefree Californian =P


The ride to Kyoto wasn't terrible, considering the collective low level of functioning amongst the group. We made all of our transfers correctly and decided we had better go immediately to one of the sights we wanted to see... before exhaustion truly set in. We got on another train and headed to the outskirts of town. After a short walk- the lack of signs in English leaving us feeling generally unsure of where we were going- we stumbled upon our destination. A forest unlike any I had ever seen. Thousands of stands of bamboo, a frosty mint color and too thick to fit your hands around, shooting straight skyward, thinning at the top and swaying gently in the breeze. The otherworldly atmosphere inspired quiet amongst all visitors. During the rest of the week I would have this experience over and over; so much about Japan seems too unique, too perfect to be real.




Wandering out of the bamboo forest (or since it is technically grass should it be called a meadow?), we found ourselves on the grounds of a temple. Again a fairytale-like quality permeated the place. I soon saw that this illusion was very carefully and purposefully executed. Throughout the serene garden, a few workers could be seen delicately pulling minuscule weeds from the moss-covered ground with their fingertips. I can only imagine the patience it takes to do this particular activity, not to mention the pruning of all the other plants. It was evident that everything in that garden had been put there meaningfully. The rocks, the shape of the pond, the most beautiful koi I've ever seen, the pine tree branches propped up with poles whenever their boughs became too heavy with nettles... The temple itself surely had been designed for the enjoyment of nature, where its inhabitants could sit and contemplate the beauty before them against the backdrop of a green mountain. It's a shame they're not looking for tenants; I would set up residence there in a heartbeat.

We had drinks in the river district, spying several geisha as we walked along the tight cobbled streets. The next day saw us strolling through more temples and gardens, including the famous "Golden Temple," Kinkaku-ji, and Ryoan-ji, which had a large rock garden in the Zen Buddhist tradition. We had a curry lunch and then the rest of the group went on their way back home; I, however, would be staying longer to explore on my own. There's something freeing about traveling alone, relying on your own wits to get you around in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar language (I still know hardly any Japanese). I meandered about through twisting alleyways and found myself at several more temples. One was so small that no one seemed to be around. I walked in and tooled around the garden without ever seeing a soul. As there is no record in anyone else's memory but my own of me ever having been there, I do somewhat wonder whether my imagination, in a haze of exhaustion and misty rain, invented that visit.

There are dozens of temples and palaces (not to mention their obligatory gardens) to see in Kyoto, so I chose a few in the southeast area near the guest house and planned a sightseeing route for myself for the next day... by bike. The weather was perfect for this self-guided venture, as it wasn't raining but it was also not hot. The first shrine I went to actually took up an entire mountainside! Thousands of torii- red arches symbolic in the Shinto religion- lined the pathways up and down the hill, winding maze-like and obstructing most of the view of the surrounding woods. They continued on and on- I was there for hours with no end in sight. Every so often there would be a clearing; there, stone fox statues stood watch over other shrines, messengers of the agriculture/industry spirit, Inari.

This shrine was so captivating that I had a hard time dragging myself away to see other temples on my tour. But soon enough, I was back on the bike. The temples do start to seem similar after awhile- bridges, ponds, rock gardens, etc. One had a massive hall full of a thousand many-armed Buddha statues. My final stop was Kiyomizu-dera, a temple high on a hillside overlooking the city. The view was quite beautiful, framed on one side by a pagoda and encircled by nature. I will definitely be back to Kyoto; my friend suggested that I witness every different season there, and I fully intend to!