This haro clearly has no idea of the danger it is in.
I’ve seen so many temples in the last two years that they’re kind of all starting to look the same. Kiyomizu-dera was exciting because it’s pretty unusual. The place gets its name from the fountains that everyone queues up to drink from. One fountain is for wisdom, one for luck and one for longevity. These are all nice things, but I skipped the fountain partially because of the half-hour wait that the line would require, and also my neurotic obsession with hygiene, which would not permit me to drink water from an unknown source from a communal tin cup which was not washed between the hundreds of people who use it each day. Ewwwwwwwwww.
Whatever, the best part of the temple is the Noh stage anyways. It’s 13 meters high, supported by hundreds of huge wooden pillars. Apparently some superstition got started that anyone who survived jumping from the stage would have their wish granted. A surprising 85% of the documented jumpers in the Edo period survived the fall, but it was later made illegal, most likely due to the clean-up required after the other 15%.
The shopping and sightseeing are really a side note (though a great one) as the real reason for this trip was to indulge in the mother-of-all-ridiculous-tourist-activities, the Geisha/Maiko makeover. We opted to be Maiko rather than Geisha because the kimonos were flashier and you got more dangly hair accessories. I was a bit worried when the process began. With all of our hair tied back and the white makeup applied, we looked more like transvestite-vampires than anything else, but the kimonos and wigs completed the transformation. After having photos taken in the studio, we hit the streets of Gion for a little stroll. It was nice to be able to take pictures with our own cameras doing anything we wanted, and we ended up taking a surprising number of pictures with groups of students on school trips. The outfits attracted a lot of attention, but the biggest laugh was that people didn’t realize that we were foreign until they got close up, and then that thoroughly confused them.
It was tons of fun, but not terribly comfortable. I don’t know how real Maiko and Geisha do it (and yes there are still plenty of real ones in Kyoto). The kimono weighed a ton, the obi was so tight and stiff it was more like a girdle, it was hard to move and it left bruises, and the 4-inch thick soles on the shoes made walking pretty dangerous. I’m really glad I did it, but I think I’ll keep my day-job.
Here's the plywood proof.
The view of Lake Ashi from the pier.
The view of Mt. Fuji from the boat on Lake Ashi.
It was actually becoming a running joke that I’ve been to Tokyo so many times and never once seen Fuji from the Shinkansen. If it was ever going to appear, this was definitely the right moment to do so. That, (plus the blocks of cheese that I dragged a freezer bag all the way to Tokyo to procure) definitely made the hellishly expensive one-day-trip and 17 hours of train travel worthwhile.
Okinawa has a very different climate and culture from mainland Japan, and even Japanese people consider a trip to Okinawa to be the next best thing to actually going to a different country. Okinawa’s past relations with various Asian countries are reflected in its music, art, architecture, food, textiles, traditions, etc. This + the indigenous culture + influences from mainland Japan and America = a really strange cultural environment.
Okinawa suffered a lot of damage during World War 2, but since most of the aid and help with clean-up after the war came from the Americans, Okinawa ended up grateful to America and resentful of Japan. As a result, Okinawa is now a strange cultural mish-mash that works well for tourism. I was quite happy to revel in the old and the new, learning about the little kingdom’s history and culture while enjoying as much “American food” as possible.
I had a blast, visiting castles, seeing traditional theater, and shopping on Kokusai-dori(International Street), the biggest, brightest, most life-sized-cartoon-character infested tourist trap I have ever seen. It was warm. There were palm trees. I ate tacos and rode a monorail. Even the fact that it rained almost the whole time couldn’t spoil my fun.
In retrospect, I’m not sure that I could have visited two places within Japan that were more different. Kyoto is the center of Japanese culture, and Okinawa is the least Japanese of all the prefectures. Seeing them a week apart made the differences seem even greater, so I suppose it’s no wonder I was a bit dazed after I got back. And broke.
My first stop was Kyoto.
The other place that I really wanted to see was the Fushimi Inari Shrine. There are Inari Shrines all over Japan, but this is the biggest and best of them all. The hike up the mountain was pretty tiring, but I was distracted by the thousands of vermillion toriis that flank the path. My reward for my hike was a great view down over the city, a series of closed shops and refreshment stands, and lanterns that began to glow spookily as evening fell and I made my way back down the mountain.
Cities always boast if they have the number one anything. Apparently I saw the largest wooden structure in Japan (the massive temple next to my hotel) and I went to the tallest 5 story pagoda in Japan at Toji Temple . I also visited Sanjusangendo Hall at Rengeoin Temple, which houses 1001 bronze Buddha statues (cool looking but creepy as Hell, standing in rows like an army of bronze soldiers, not remotely peaceful), Kyoto National Museum was conveniently across the street, and somehow I walked all the way to Gion.
I’m not sure that I made it to the famous bit of Gion that everyone talks about. I saw Minamiza Theater (the oldest theater in Japan) but I didn’t see any Geishas. Then again, perhaps 4:30 on a Thursday afternoon is not prime geisha time. I settled for shopping instead, since the buildings in “old Kyoto” actually looked much newer than anything around where I live. I guess the architecture in Gotsu hasn’t changed much in the last couple of centuries.
It is actually part of a shrine called Itsukushima-jinja, a scenic place connected by multiple wooden boardwalks, and surrounded by water when the tide is in. From there, the gate appears to be far out in the water, and the whole place is aptly called "the floating shrine". Tough luck for me the tide was mostly out, so I visited the land-locked shrine and the standing-in-the-shallows torii, but it was still nice. It snowed on us all the way home again that evening, but for the few hours we were there we could stroll around in the sunshine with our coats open, feeling warmer than we usually did in our homes.
I escaped again in March, this time to Yokohama. It was a business trip, so I didn’t get to do much sight-seeing, but it was nice to get out of the conference center and be able to walk around in the evening. Spring obviously arrives early there, as it was much warmer than Gotsu, and many trees were in bloom.
My big hotel by the big ferris wheel.
The even bigger Landmark Tower, the tallest building in Japan.
I’m not really sure what this is but it looks neat.
Despite being part of Tokyo, Yokohama actually reminded me of a nicer version of Vancouver. The tall, shiny office buildings, shopping malls and hotels make it feel like a big city, but it is also full of parks, trees, and is on the waterfront. And since it’s in Japan, it’s perfectly safe, with attractive, well-lit, tree-lined streets completely devoid of homeless people and rubbish. Well, I saw one piece of litter during my four days there, so I took a picture of it. My kind of place.
It’s actually called a kotatsu, but it’s essentially a coffee table with a heater mounted underneath. You lift off the table top, put in a blanket, replace the top, then get under it, turn it on, and don’t get out unless you absolutely have to. I’m usually under mine within 15 minutes of coming home from work, and I wake up under it in the wee hours of the morning several times a week with a very stiff neck.
It sounds pretty odd, but it’s actually a deeply rooted part of the culture, as whole families spend days crowded around/under their kotatsu for several months. There are even certain foods that people cook and eat without having to leave the kotatsu, like nabe, a communal pot of soup that just sits in the middle of the table top, having more ingredients added when it starts to run low. In the fall, the stores are stocked with designer blankets and legless chairs to make your kotatsu-dwelling months more comfortable and fashionable. In the spring there are weight-loss programs whose entire advertising campaigns are centered around losing the weight you gained under the table.
I could pretend that I use mine because I understand and respect the cultural and economic significance that the kotatsu has in Japanese society, but I’d be lying. If my apartment wasn’t a walk-in freezer, I’m sure I could find somewhere better to be than under the coffee table.
