Kyoto

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Osaka. I arrived this afternoon, after walking the 'Path of Philosophy' in Kyoto. Sundays always make me feel like being at home, and catching the train, finally, to Osaka, the place of my departure this Wednesday, made me think how I'd come full circle.

Almost full circle. Tomorrow I'm going to Hiroshima. I planned it as the last place of significance to visit in my trip, because I want to use the holiday as something more than an opportunity to take photographs of pretty places.

And, on that note, Kyoto ...

I was frustrated with it, at first. Just as, in Italy in 2004, I was frustrated with Florence after leaving Rome. Kyoto is not unlike Tokyo in its centre, grand skyscrapers and architectural wonders of glass and steel. But there are more tourists, crowding everywhere, and, upon arriving, you wonder if you have not found the lesser cousin of a great city.

Whereas Florence had wonderful galleries and countryside, and let me have moments of inspiration seeing Michelangelo's David for the first time, or wandering the Uffici, or finding Johnny Depp's signature on the Ponte Vecchio, Kyoto is full of tourist lines to see Buddhist Shrines. I felt immediately as though I could not find anything in Kyoto to connect with.

Especially in light of how people mistreat these shrines. I may be spiritually void, but I know to respect the religions of other cultures. Tourists peer into Buddhist ceremonies within temples, take photographs of monks passing on the street, gawk at each photograph of themselves standing before each listed shrine with a sense of satisfaction.

So, on Friday morning, after having visited one temple (Toji) I told myself I was going to do something different. I went wandering up the hillside, walking off a bad mood about tourism (which included my own bumbling self).

Along the way it was crowded, as everything in Japan is, and I made a point of letting Japanese have the right of way whenever there was some imminent collision on the footpath. Once or twice they've noticed me do it and appreciated it. Passing into the grounds of a temple, as a short cut to the hillside, I noticed several Buddhist monks attending to various things in the temple grounds. Walking further into the grounds, a Buddhist monk, roughly about my own age, walked quickly down a small pathway, and we both turned to follow the same path. We paused, and he indicated that I should precede him. In automatic pilot mode, I smiled and said 'Origato' but shook my head and gestured that he had right of way. Whereas normal Japanese smile and move ahead, he made the same gesture again, a slight amusement playing through his persistence. There was no holding my ground against his gesture, it would have been rude to insist, and I had to put myself first.

Others in the garden noticed this, and I felt as though there was some appreciation from the faceless gaze of the many in the temple grounds that I would make an effort to respect what they respected, in my own foreign way. This somewhat alleviated my mood, and I kept walking, out of the temple, wandering up a hillside and looking at the urban architecture of a hillside of houses above Kyoto proper. I came upon a school, and heard someone thudding out piano chords from within a building, as I might do passing any school in any country, and my preoccupation with the gaudy tourism below on the hillside began to pass.

Past the school, along a steep incline, was the beginning of the forest on the mountain which cradles Kyoto. I saw a set of stone steps leading up to an old stone Buddhist arch. Well of the beaten track from my tourist map, I felt a sense of exploration come over me and began approaching.

A middle aged husband and wife appeared at the top of the steps and began descending. They saw me and smiled.

'You'll make it,' said the man good-naturedly, giving me a critical up and down look. He then added, humourously, '... if you're strong enough.'

His wife chortled and I looked puzzled.

'O, you've never been up there?' asked the man, grinning. 'You will see.' He and his wife passed me by, I climbed the steps, and then he called out 'But 50 yen donation, ok?'

Again, I found myself thinking that I was on holiday here more to interact with the graceful Japanese than to see old Buddhist shrines. Past the steps lay a steep incline of the mountain, covered with trees, but for an incredibly steep flight of old stone steps, at the base of which was a panting Japanese baseball team of teenage boys, and a coach shouting at squadrons of the team as they sprinted up the formidable flight of steps.

I paid my 50 yen, in great spirits and giving the old man who collected the donations a grin. He laughed. I approached the base of the steps, the coach looked over at me and gave a chuckle.

'You go up there?' He asked, pointing up. The team laughed, as teams always do whenever the coach implicates that they must. I gained a clear sight of the steps (picture below) and thought I could do it.

'Hai!' I answered and they laughed again.

My backpack was quite heavy, with a laptop, books, bottle of water, etc.. I began walking up. It was quite difficult, but nothing beyond any practiced walker, I thought. Panting, I reached the final step, and stepped onto the next plateau, beneath another Buddhist archway. More baseballers lay on the ground panting here, grinning at me. Ahead, I saw yet a steeper and longer ascent of stone steps, those these were tinier steps. Already worn out from the first flight, I began to see what the coach had been getting at.

In Hakodate, when I had climbed the small mountain above the port, each Japanese I had passed would make a very polite point of singing out 'Konichiwa!' to me as I passed, which I returned. Later, telling B.T. how I found it strange it would happen on the mountain, but not on the streets of a town or city, he explained that it was the Japanese sense of community, in a remote or potentially dangerous place, to greet strangers in passing.

Up the second flight of stairs, my thighs began to burn painfully. The steps were so small and my feet too large for them, so I had to be very careful about placing my foot each time I went forward. To trip and fall would have been quite dangerous. Here there were only a few of the baseball team, and they cried 'Konichiwa' each time they passed. Passing two of them lying midway on the steps, exhausted, some doing push-ups, they saw how hard I was finding it and began to shout out 'Fight! Fight! Fight!' as though I were part of their exercise group. A grueling set of steps and some noble encouragement, it was just what I needed to get rid of my temper at the Mickey Mouse aspect of Kyoto below me on the hillside.

Reaching the top, I was quite elated. There was a small Buddhist shrine, surrounded by forest, which overlooked the city, quite small from this height. I watched with some amazement as an elderly gentleman and his wife slowly ascended the stairs, taking their time, but surmounting them all the same. His wife was kind enough to take a picture of me up there.

For the rest of my time in Kyoto, I socialized a bit in my hostel with other backpackers, did a great deal of reading, showed a token interest in seeing one or two sights, and, on the final day, walked the 'Path of Philosophy'.

This is what I'd recommend any newcomer to Kyoto do on their first day. It is quite a beautiful experience, and it shows off the best elements of Kyoto. I think it was here that I began to really love the city, for what people traditionally speak of as Kyoto's best elements. There is an incredible elegance to this path, which runs alongside a small canal surrounded on both sides by cherry blossom trees. In autumn marvelous reds appeared, and the classic simplicity of the Japanese aesthetic, its architecture, gardens, use of space, was presented as a real and vital experience.

I've posted several photos from my wanderings along this path. Though I had previously and quietly scorned the chat of other backpackers who had talked about wanting to find a glimpse of Geisha, I suddenly found myself fascinated by Kyoto, and was happy to sight two Maika (apprentice Geisha) as I walked back to the hostel for my things and to head to Osaka.

Well, that's it. Ideally I would have had one or two more days for Kyoto. It took a great deal of time to peel away the layer of mercantilism and catch sight of what Kyoto is about, but it was such a brief and beautiful sight that I wished that I could stay longer.

This is my penultimate blog here. Tomorrow or Wednesday I will blog about Hiroshima.

My thanks to the readers who have said they've enjoyed reading this blog. My pleasure writing here has been increased by your small audience. Holidays are wonderful, temporary things. I'm ready for mine to end. I won't be sorry for the circle to close. But I hope to keep this as some sort of record of where I went and what I did.

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Photos

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Kyoto is as neon as any other Japanese city.

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The real Kyoto, cramped living near the centre of the city.

Toji Temple
Yeh, that's a temple.

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First gate to the steps. Man and woman approaching, about to joke with me.

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First flight, looking down (obviously).

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Gateway to the second steps.

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This is going to hurt.

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And, it did.

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Quick, someone play a Queen soundtrack!

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One segment of the 'Path of Philosophy.'

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Gardens to waste the desires of autumnal lovers