Ryokan Rain, Awake in Kyoto pt. 2.

It rained all day long yesterday.

If Japan has a theme, it is inextricably tied to the beliefs of its people - Shinto and Buddhism - the dual-parted belief system that belongs to more than 90% of the people who live here. I've understood Buddhism for a long time, but Shinto was new to me. When you see a shrine, that's Shinto. When you see a temple, that's Buddhism. You often see them together, or on the same grounds, and it is a testament to how integrated they've become. Both are very intriguing and intuitively healthy ways of living. Shinto has no book and is rooted in a connection to nature (hence the Kyoto Protocol, not the Detroit Protocol) and Buddhism follows the teachings of a man who lead a life that any of us could lead. He simply found himself. Which is not as easy as it sounds, not when it rains on your parade. But together, and believed in in such force, the way of life is not differentiated from the belief system. And that everyone is on board, there is widespread agreement on certain kinds of behaviors and attitudes, and that brings people closer together. Wars are started all the time for lack of that.

I tried to practice a little non-attachment while I was out here (although apparently I had WAY too many email attachments, as I was contacted by AT&T today to let me know that I had gone over my 50MB data limit by over a hundred MBs. Hey, I've got a BLOG to write!) But, just like the rain, it is only the weather.

Dinner last night was a masterpiece; a final allegro of sashimi, tempura, steak and much more. But back to the day...

I was up at 2am and couldn't fall back asleep, so I watched Burn After Reading on my iPhone. Finally fell back around 4am and woke up to knocking at the door. It was breakfast. I did that and planned out my day - the Golden Palace and the Bamboo Forest. In the rain it would be. Both places were extraordinarily beautiful. Some of the most picturesque scenery I've ever laid eyes on: one so shiny and precious and as to be untouchable and the other so other-worldly that it renders you speechless. I feel lucky.

I mean, I really feel lucky.

I'm lucky to have had this experience. It was immediately special, from the moment I landed in Japan all the way through to this very second. And the sense of it all being special never left me. Not even when it rained. Japan has a real, palpable beauty to it that although it feels created, doesn't feel manufactured.

I'm lucky to have had this time. That all the people around me allowed me this break, that was huge. I think, maybe, everyone was sensing how much I needed a little time to calm down. You all checked in on me while I was over here, which kept me feeling warm and loved (each post of mine seems to be hovering around the 150-200 view mark, with the number one most viewed post being "My So Tired" with the shot of the sleeping girl on the train, at 247 views. Maybe you can all relate.)

I'm lucky to be coming home. I have had dreams of you, thoughts of you, conversations with you, live video chats with you, emails and texts with you. And conversations about you. I love my life and can't wait to be back in it, with all the people I love. Thanks for affording me this journey. See you all soon.

- Joshi-san

Ryokan Rain, Awake in Kyoto pt. 1

It is raining in Kyoto. But about last night...

Exhaustion from time travel, raw fish and a blank mind set in last night just as I was about to post up photos from my walk through the Eastern hill side area of Kyoto. I couldn’t only muster a few of my iphone shots, but even with that, as my hand reached out to press ‘send,’ I fell asleep. But the dinner in my room was mind-alteringly good. I was served sashimi of various sorts and a pretty big plate of tempura. Rice, Miso soup with something crazy in it and hot green tea. The distance between eating that and falling asleep is not measurable with normal time-keeping devices. I’m not sure time actually went forward so much as just exploded in all directions. But about yesterday's walk...

After a traditional breakfast, consisting of much more fish than you would ever imagine eating at 8am, I bowed goodbye to the Ryokan staf. I worried that they would be sitting by the front window wringing their hands together, wondering if I would make it back in time for dinner at 7pm. And worrying if I was doing the walk exactly like they had drawn it on the map. Yes I did. The staff calls the taxi for you and tells them where to take you. Then they scream at each other the Japanse equivalent of “Guest is leaving! OMG!” And then Satiko and Hiroko stand out on the street in their kimonos and bow at you as you leave. Seems odd to be in a taxi while that happens, I wish it were a horse and I had a sword, but times aren’t what they used to be in Kyoto. Or are they?

As I get out of the center of the city, it quickly becomes more traditional-looking. Mexico has this kind of experience, where the best parts (as a visitor) are where the attempts to be modern, circa the 1960’s, are not visible. With the advantage of not having been bombed during WW2, much of what Kyoto was still exists. Within the center of the city it exists crushed between post-war buildings and homes, and is still very beautiful, but it is like looking at bits of beautiful sashimi surrounded by packages of frozen pizzas. However, as you get to the outskirts, which takes hardly any time, the experience becomes immediately transporting and timeless. Tourists abound, but you can gaze above their heads, for the most part, and imagine. And the temples, shrines, pagodas, gardens, parks and stone-lined streets are vastly abundant. There are as many areas of Kyoto to go to for that experience as there are shopping districts in Tokyo. And in that way, the two cities are linked and possibly explained.

The cab drops you off just short of the walk path up to Kiyomizudera Temple and you savor the moments you know are coming. You want to walk slowly and let the reveal happen like slow pan of a movie opening. And it pays off – the structures are as impressive as they are many. And the main hall juts out over a cliff. Amanda was feeding me information about the place as I was walking through it, like a private tour guide. Possible business idea? And, as it turns out, people used to jump off the edge of the main building, dropping quite a distance, in order to have a wish granted (and she let me know that only 85.4% of people survived, which got me thinking that I may had found the spiritual center of sports statistics). The practice is now prohibited, so I did not. But I for sure would have survived, don’t worry Satiko and Hiroko! The place is a spectacle of history, spiritual power, an homage to the elements and a feat of construction - not one nail is used in the whole temple (thank you, Amanda).

The rest of the day was less impressive, but just as pleasant: walking through parks filled with cherry blossom trees, having a cold Kirin sitting in an open area with locals sitting in groups chatting, playing cards and having picnics. I also made it over to the Kyoto Tower before heading back for dinner, a place that looks much like the Space Needle and, as the tallest building in Kyoto, is used simply for looking out over the whole city. From it, you can see almost all the temples in the city, but because of Google Earth, it is totally useless. Just kidding, it was still pretty cool.

Bullet Train to Kyoto, aka Running to Stand Still

Yesterday morning and afternoon was mostly packing and traveling. A couple things of note on that front, though: one, in a rare moment of foresight, I got a small box from the lobby of the Park Hotel and filled it with all the little things I've bought here that would have made travel from here on out very difficult (I was pushing maximum density for my carry on luggage as it was, and had my arch nemesis, Tokyo Station, immediately ahead of me with its sprawling maze fingers to drag my luggage through). I also put a few of my unneeded clothes in there. And I shipped it home. That's a lot of peace of mind and ease-of-travel for $75.

Then, I steeled myself and faced my fears of the Tokyo rail system. But I found my way to the correct JR ticket counter, got my JR Pass exchanged and even managed to reserve a seat on the train to Kyoto. Which they said was leaving at 11:03. And it did, exactly. And I was on it. Not bad, me. I spent a good amount of the trip standing between cars, looking out the window at more Japan countryside. Not nearly as inspired as you might hope. I'm sure it is in other parts of the country, but the stretch from Tokyo to Kyoto is sort of our LA to SF. You're not seeing a whole lot of new things along the way, but the drive is still somehow nice.

I pulled into Kyoto, grabbed some steamed buns in the station, as a gift to the Ryokan staff, and got in a taxi to Sumiya, where I am staying. I am staying closer to the center of the city where I think the streets are more crowded, but Sumiya is still a very traditional Ryokan and the hospitality is like nothing I've ever experienced. Well, that's not true. It is actually very much like being a kid at home with a doting mother. You are treated like a gorgeous child; constantly being asked if you need anything, having a bath drawn for you, bringing you food to your room and then coming and taking it away.

The process of checking in is the opposite of what you’re used to – first they get super excited that you’re there and start running around like crazy, telling people that a guest has arrived. They obviously have a system. You get seated in a waiting area with a cup of hot tea and a Japanese cookie. There is no check-in counter. They kneel and bow before entering the room – every time. They receive (never take) your passport, go do some paperwork and come back with a simple piece of paper for you to fill out. Your shoes are already off at this point and have been put in a cubby hole at the front. And your luggage is being brought to your room. You sit and relax. Also, as it turns out, a bath is being drawn, too, in a wood box that is not as long as you’re used to, but deeper. Sitting in the wood box is amazing.

There are two parts to this Ryokan, the old and the new. I’m in the new. It is still very traditional, as you can see from the pictures, but all the amenities are current, including the toilet (which, yes, has a bidet. Not discussing it.), lights, Internet and, even, a TV.  There is a rock garden out back, that is divine, and I have spent most of my time here, so far, sitting just staring at it.

U.Z., the young man who escorted me to my room (who studied hospitality at UNLV – I don’t even know how to reconcile that) entertained all my questions, of which I had so many that some older man finally came and took him away from me. But I did find out that there was a place called Nijo Castle that for a very brief time period in Spring opens up a part of its grounds to the public at night. Filled with over 200 cherry trees, it is lit in very dramatic ways and, in fact, this was its last night. I knew I couldn’t miss that. But first, dinner.

The chef comes and asks your preferences for dinner, from both a timing standpoint and your culinary preference. All things are considered. They also talk to each other, so that by the time the chef came in, she already knew that I was hoping to go to Nijo Castle and she also knows what time it closes, so she wants to make sure I have time to eat and get there, with time to experience it. To top it off, it is all done with the utmost courtesy, friendliness and “elementary kindness” that we in the West have just learned to live without. It is one thing to feel that a staff is attentive, it is a whole other thing to feel that you are being taken care of.

Dinner comes. And comes and comes. I will admit my tastes are not accustomed to variations for prepared fish dishes (especially shell fish), but I worked my way through a very traditional kihei dinner and I’m glad I did. I appreciated tasting things that I never had before (and maybe never will again), including bamboo. If not for the exacting and gorgeous preparation, there entire meal might appear as not having denied anything that fell out of a fishing net. The highlight, for me, was the sashimi and that, in and of itself, was better than any sashimi I’ve ever had. So, the chef (who came by to discuss) has agreed to bring me primarily sashimi and tempura tonight. I’m sure it’s not the first time she’s made this kind of adjustment.

Nijo Castle was extraordinary. Being that it is at night and lit not for the camera, but for the human eye, it can’t be captured in a way that does it justice. The lit trees show up, but not the atmosphere and the expansiveness of it. The whole thing was extravagant, grand and other-worldly. The timing was perfect, I got right into a cab and headed back to the room. The futon bed was made and I fell into it and deeply asleep. I might have been asleep before actually getting in it.

Today I head to Higashiyama district, on the East side of Kyoto. I look forward to a day of leisurely strolling, more cherry blossoms, temples and stone-paved streets. More to come.

Last Thoughts on Octopus Town

Octo-sm

I am leaving the many-headed tentacle town of Tokyo Metropolis now and
heading off to Kyoto. I appreciate the complexity and the way it has become
an excuse for simplicity. That was a highlight. Walking through clothing
stores, touching all the fabric as I passed was a highlight. Just being in a
city that has heritage was a highlight. People who stayed where their
ancestors stayed and who passed their cultures and traditions down, without
dilution and with confidence. That's a highlight. The buildings, angles,
customs and toys - also highlights.
 
But of everything, the heart of Tokyo beats in the Tsukiji Fish Market. I
almost missed it and I'm thankful that I didn't. It is a chance to see
behind the curtain. The parade of organized chaos, the abundance of fish
that feeds the millions... Is there anything more simple than that? It is as
I imagine it must have been 500 years ago. And it is nice to know that the
arms get replaced, the head moves around, but underneath, the same main
organ seems to pump blood throughout.
 
So long Tokyo, and thanks for all the fish.

Posterous theme by Cory Watilo