Kyoto Part 1

This weekend, I went to Kyoto, as a sort of “last hurrah” before going back to the States.

(Side note: Oh my god, I’m going home in 5 days!!)

I hadn’t yet left Tokushima, and it was high-time that I did so. Cabin-fever and general stir-craziness had set it, and Kyoto was by all reports a place where a single girl could wing it and still have a good time. In other words, I was going alone, with no clear plan.

From Tokushima, Kyoto is a 3-hour bus ride, which passed pleasantly enough. The best part was when we drove across the giant bridge that bounces from island to island to the mainland. You look out the windows and see a huge expanse of water, great big shipping boats, endless sky. Oh, did you forget that Japan is in fact an island? Here is some wide ocean to remind you.

Stumbling off the bus, I was hit in the face with Kyoto station. According to the plaques on the roof, the design of the station is such that it is a giant womb of culture and people and travel, and that when the sun hits it right, it seems to float (thus being a modern incarnation of the “floating world” for which Kyoto is so famous).

I did not see it in the right light, apparently. It is a very impressive building, with a huge glass wall. 11 floors of elevators take you up in a slant (or you can take the incredibly long staircase) from the ground floor up to the roof. It is all open air, except for the shopping mall on either side of the staircase. There is a huge, 2-floor underground shopping complex. It’s all pretty alarming, actually. But the tourist people were very nice, and gave me a walking map, a bus map, and a city map. And so I left the station.

Here is a photo, taken inside the station from the top level.

The Christmas tree on the left is a reflection. Like I said, glass and open air. There was a choir singing truly terrible pop covers of religious Christmas songs. Silent Night is not nor will ever be a pop-beat song. EVER.

Outside, I had no idea what to do. It was truly overwhelming. Like the first time I have landed in any city, except this time I was alone, and since it was only 10 am, I had the whole day ahead of me, so I felt like I couldn’t relax. But I knew that the majority of the things I wanted to see were in the east, so I turned that way, and started walking.

At first, Kyoto was just this kind of bum-looking city. However, as the hills became closer, the view became more interesting. The first place I came across was Sanjusangen-do, which is the longest wooden building in Japan. Inside are 1001 gold-covered statues of Kannon, from the 12th and 13th century. Kannon is the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy. She has 11 heads and 1000 arms. Each statue has only 40 arms, plus two that are together in prayer, but each arm can save 25 worlds. Also, each statue represents 33 incarnations, so there are 33,033 Kannon to save man.

When I read all that in the guidebooks, I thought “Oh, a bunch of statues, alright”. Then I saw all 1001 statues lined up in this huge hall, plus really excellent statues of the 28 disciples of Kannon (various gods who are dragon-generals, crocodiles, and so on). At this point I didn’t have any batteries in my camera, but photos weren’t allowed anyway. It was a good way to start; walking this incredible hall with no shoes and no rush, smelling incense and thinking about arms saving worlds.

Back on the streets, I tried my hand at my walking map. Unfortunately, I just got lost and frustrated. All I could find was a Lawson’s, where I bought camera batteries. So I settled for wandering east and hoping for the best. Luckily, I wandered straight into Kiyomizu-dera. Hooray!

This temple is so awesome, I went back again on Sunday to do it all over again. It has everything. A beautiful view, great buildings, sacred mystical water, everything! One of my favorite things that I did in Kyoto was to go in the basement of the shrine just at the top of the stairs. You hold on to a railing made of giant prayer beads, and walk down into the basement. The man at the top tells you that “It’s dark in there”. What he means is that it is pitch-black. Quite literally, there is no light. So you walk and you walk with cold stone floors under your socks on your hand running along prayer beads. This empties your mind from external influences. Suddenly, a light appears on a giant stone with a symbol carved on the top. It’s not like you see it coming from the distance, but… there is darkness, and suddenly, there is light. It’s like that.

You put your hand on the stone, feel the carving, spin the stone if you want. You wish or hope or pray for something, and then return to walking in the darkness. When you come out of the basement, your sins are forgiven, your spirit is lighter, and your prayer will come true.

Or so they say.

After this, you pay to go into the proper area, which is clinging dangerously to the hillside, supported on looks like giant tinker-toys. Here you can light incense, pray, write paper or wooden wishes to be burned to Buddha, walk along a path on the hillside, and my favorite, drink water from a sacred spring.

When you go to a temple in Japan, there will be a well or a spring at the front, with a bunch of dippers. You dip the dipper in the water and splash it on your hands, and sometimes in your mouth, to clean yourself out. At Kiyomizu-dera, there was a special one where the water was flowing down in spouts, so you had to climb to this little building and reach out a window with your dipper, and catch the water falling over your head. And then your wish will come true.

Some images from Kiyomizu-dera (if you can’t tell already, this was my favorite temple)

Walking up from the streets. To the left is the entry arch, just behind it is the first temple (with the basement). On the right is… another building. It had a bell. Not pictured: the actual temple.