Monday, June 27, 2011

Kyoto

On Another Day without Yakyu

Kyoto
The city from Eikando
Monday, June 27, 2011
Kyoto, Japan


Outside of the Game:
It was another early travel day, but with nearly a solid eight of sleep in front of it, it was not nearly as bad as previous days had been. In the early morning of Fukuoka, I got all my belongings together again, and then headed out for the rail station down the street.

I arrived particularly early for the train, and after brief thoughts of getting a ticket for an earlier train, I settled in for some serious waiting about. At this early hour, all of the station kiosks were not open yet, but I found one to buy some breakfast. It was then that I found out that they sell tiny little bottles of whiskey in the train station bodegas. I have no idea how I went so long without knowing this information, but it struck me as important at the time. I didn't buy one just then because it was on the pricey side and I didn't want to indulge until I was sure my money situation was worked out, but it was carefully noted for later.

My train eventually came on time, as they all seemed to do. This one was a little bit nicer than the “average” bullet train, with fancier seats. I'm not entirely sure what the significance is, but it didn't cost any more than normal, and it made my nap a little nicer. I spent the trip working my scorecard from the previous night's game and getting up-to-date with this thing, which I will achieve right when we get to the period at the end of this sentence here.

On the second leg of the train trip from Fukuoka to Kyoto, I was sitting next to a salaryman on his way to Tokyo who spoke some English. He asked if I was American, and then asked why I was in Japan. I explained what I was doing and braced for the inevitable. Instead, he asked if I was “sort of” a big baseball fan. Sort of? In Japanese eyes, this insanity I was perpetrating was something a “sort of” big baseball fan would do. I absolutely shuddered to think what an actual big baseball fan does for his kicks around these parts.

After I got the station, I immediately went to the nearest Post Office ATM, and successfully retrieved 20,000 yen from my account. With that bit of business behind me, it was a much easier walk to the ryoken.

After dropping off my bags, I decided to set out to see the world again. I began by going to the Higashi-Honganji Temple right across the street from the ryoken. It was undergoing renovation, so I made a quick pass to see the dragon-head fountain before heading off to the subway station.

Higashi-Honganji Temple
My favorite fountain

The problem, such as it is, with Kyoto is that you could spend a month there, and while you would continue to be greeted by treasures each greater than the last, you still wouldn't have time to see everything the city had to offer. On my previous visit I went into the heart of the tourist district, so I decided to head further north this trip through, and hit an area called the “Philosopher's Path,” which crossed several important cultural landmarks along its route.

I got to the subway stop near what one map identified as the start of the path, and upon getting to an exit, I was trying to orient myself to find out the right way to go. I was approached by a Japanese geek who offered to help. I don't mean it pejoratively; I mean to identify him as one of my own.

He almost immediately recognized my problem. He told me to ignore the fact that one exit was seemingly much closer to where I wanted to go than the other. He said in all cases, follow what the signs say and not what the map implies. And I was less than surprised when he turned out be correct, as the exit indicated by the sign dropped me exactly where I needed to be.

With an endless string of cultural delights waiting, I just decided to follow the path and go into every temple and shrine along the way until I ran out of day. The first stop was Konchi-In, which started me off on a state of mind completely divorced from mundane matters and transfixed on natural beauty and ancient buildings whose wood and tatami had a smell that was nearly a tangible thing. By the time I wandered on to Nanzen-Ji, I was somewhere else entirely.

Nanzen-Ji
Garden at Nanzen-Ji

When confronted with the Zen garden at Nanzen-Ji, I just sat down and watched it, which predicated an interesting event. After sitting down, I glanced at my watch and saw a half hour had passed. And I actually thought the following to myself: “Holy crap: that is tranquil.” This is why we can’t have nice things.

Elsewhere in the temple complex, I scrambled up an aqueduct that had no safety railing to prevent you from plummeting to an unappealing death, yet was curiously unaffected. Walking on an ancient brick edifice with flowing water next to you has quite a calming effect.

Nanzen-Ji
Safety railings aren't tranquil

Emerging out into a late-growing afternoon, I found a tourist café nearby and had the best turkey sandwich of my life as I sat in the air conditioning, drinking water and realizing that perhaps there is a thinner line than thought between heat exhaustion and spiritual enlightenment. Suitably refreshed, I set out again along the temple path. I ended up going through Tenjuan and Eikando, climbing up the latter’s mountainside pagoda to look down on the world, having a run-in with the loudest tiny frog in the world, and spending another indeterminate amount of time looking at the sand in another dry Zen garden.

As it turns out, what I thought was the start of the Philosopher’s Path wasn’t actually the Philosopher’s Path at all, and I’m sure there’s something wise to pull out of the whole situation, but I chose not to. Once on the actual path, I followed the winding trail along the canal it followed, trying desperately not to get caught up in any metaphors. As part of the path was closed for repairs involving an annoying detour, and a mooning couple blocked the way with their oblivious slow walking, I failed utterly to do so, and silently cursed the fact that even silently cursing on the Philosopher's Path was somehow speaking volumes about my state of enlightenment or lack thereof.

At the northern end of the path was Ginkakuji Temple, and I had just about one cultural treasure left in me for the day. The “Silver Temple” included an audio tour available in English, so I had a little more than the usual English pamphlet to help me understand what was happening on the grounds beyond the insane tranquil beauty of it all. The Zen sand sculpture was apparently meant to represent the water reflecting the moon at night, and once again, I just found myself wandering slack-jawed through the whole proceeding wondering how anyone who lived here could do anything but pacifically wander the grounds of these temples every damn day. Having climbed and wandered every last inch of the place, I decided to heed the barking of my aching dogs and head back downtown.

Ginkakuki Temple
Tending the garden

Although apprehensive about the whole idea of bus travel, the last temple was located right at the terminus of one of Kyoto's bus lines, and it was not only the easiest way back to the city, it was also probably my only shot to get back to downtown before the washi paper store I wanted to visit again had closed. And although bus travel is inherently flawed, I'm willing to try anything once, and the Japanese organization hadn't really let me down yet.

Kyoto bus
A non-awful bus

I got on the next flat-fee bus, and tried to follow along with the stops on my map. Twenty minutes later and with no incidents more than increased street traffic the closer we got to downtown, I had arrived at my stop with time to spare.

Morita Washi
Morita Washi

After all of the flailing around last year, it was a relatively easy thing to find Morita Washi this time. I did some enthusiastic shopping for affordable gifts with small luggage footprints, and then walked back down to the ryoken.

After an extremely necessary soak to relieve feet ground to chop meat, I got dressed to go out to dinner. It was approaching the halfway point of my trip, so I was getting to that dangerous tipping point in the zombie movie when zombies start to outnumber living people, or in this case, dirty clothes start to outnumber the clean. All of my overshirts were either wrinkled or skunked through, so I put one of the cleanest, wrinkliest one through the drier, and then I realized what I was doing: I was trying to look presentable for the meat.

Because this was the dinner I had been looking forward to for almost exactly a year now: the kobe restaurant at the top of Kyoto Station. There are those who are of a school of thought that a particularly good or transcendent experience should not be repeated because it can never live up to the original and is thus a guaranteed disappointment. And to those people I ask: How is life without orgasms? I mean, you already had one, so repeating the experience is pointless, right? Been there, done that.

Dinner
Foreplay

Needless to say, the experience again failed to disappoint. I think I may have even sat in the same seat as last time. If I recall correctly, I ordered the second most expensive cut last time, and that was surpassed this time by the immediate ordering of the top meat. Although I had done this before, it was still a glorious thing. As with a lot of the experiences this time in Japan, the lack of complete novelty did not in any way diminish the experience of having a stately kimono-wearing woman grill up some of the best beef in the universe at my table. And knowing what exactly was coming allowed me to pace myself much better this time, and remember to take more pictures, and given my previous analogy, this is all getting disturbing.

Nevertheless, it was worth every last cent, and I am now not sure I can go more than a year without having it again. I am not one to speculate on what withdrawal symptoms may be like for removing oneself from evidence of a beneficent divinity, but I assuredly and whole-heartedly hope to never find out.

Dinner
The main event

In my post-meat bliss, I wandered around the station roof, watching couples stare out lovingly to themselves and the skyline and smugly knowing for absolutely certain in my heart that they had no idea what true love and happiness was unless they went to dinner downstairs.

Kyoto Tower
Kyoto by night

I went back to the ryoken for some deserved rest with a stomach full of joy and feet that were in the drafting stages of a resolution to divorce from my person.


The Accommodations:
Matsubaya Inn
Matsubata Inn

I once again stayed at the Matsubaya Inn ryoken, a traditional Japanese inn a short walk from the station. While last year I stayed in a cheaper shared-bathroom room, I was able to get a suite room for the same price this time. It had a bathing area as well as a toilet in the room itself, as well as a larger room that came with a traditional ceremonial alcove, a small table and chairs, and a small balcony looking out into back-alley Kyoto.

When checking in, I was immediately recognized from last year by the owner.

“Off day for yakyuu?” he asked.

It's fame of a sort.



2011 Japan

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