Last day in Kyoto, heading for Beppu

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We are now checking out of our inn, so this will be the lightning round of blogging. Promise to come back and expand later. [Promise kept!]

Yesterday (Monday, April 9) was sunny and mostly mild, though chilly out of the sun.

The ryokan arranges for us to hire a driver with a van (hooray, no "two cabs" about it!) who will then take all six of us anywhere we want to go. Mother has a list in mind and following our now-typical big breakfast, we are ready to set out.

Getting from spot to spot is half the fun. The sun is bright and offers that pale sort of spring warmth that is nice when you're in it, but another matter in the shade. Still, it is a nice change from recent forecast fickleness, and people are out enjoying it. A group of older folks are playing something that might be croquet. We go by quickly and I don't get a good view, but in any case it looks like a fine way to spend a Monday morning.

Very quickly we arrive at the Golden Pavilion Temple (Kinkaku-ji). It is a little disappointing to learn that the original had been burned down by a disturbed monk in 1950, but I have to believe that what stands now is an exact replica, if substantially more golden. The temple grounds are surprisingly limited, and in no time at all we find ourselves in the small marketplace and a few steps beyond, back at the van.

Still, the temple is quite a sight and one Mother was glad to see.

Today's biology question is brought to you by the heron at Kinkakuji's pond. Below are two photos. One is of a heron, stationary. The other is of the heron, just launching into flight. What is that fringy thing? It looks a bit like he's missing some stitching, but surely there's some logic behind it. A flap to control landings, perhaps.... Bird people, help please.













On the way to our next destination, we pass dozens of school children, hand-in-hand with chaperones, neat in uniforms complete with hat and backpack. A rosy outlook for a school outing. Less rosy, as we drive along the river, under bridges we see encampments of homeless people. When walking later, it becomes clear how ingrained custom is. Outside these tents and other more impromptu setups, are shoes carefully placed toes outward, ready to be stepped into when the inhabitant is ready to set out. Bicycles are positioned at either end of the two places we see firsthand. I wonder if some of these folks have come from rural areas for jobs in the city, only to find housing prohibitively expensive. Easy to imagine, hard to find out, given my non-existent language skills.

Our next stop is Sanjusangendo (33 ken or "spaces" hall) - is a temple housing more than a thousand golden deities, for which reason photos may not be taken inside the space. Despite written notice in clear English, several westerners were attempting to take photos and video. Our little group rapidly dissuades them. Our intrusion felt nosy, but was intended to be respectful to the place, and I hope it was taken thus. I personally don't fully understand the taboo, but I understand that it exists. I'm glad we were not too shy to stand up for it.

Of all the places we have visited so far, Sanjusangendo is the least crowded with visitors. I'd guess this is because it is the least flashy, without a jaw-dropping garden or ponds crowded with koi, focused instead on housing more statues than I've ever seen separately, much less together. But it is impressive, and invites thoughtfulness and reflection. And if you like archery, you can see the damage done by archers of tournaments past.

At all of the temples we visit, shops of varying sizes sell charms and fortunes, providing for everything from headaches to childbirth to traffic safety. There are also some generic options, just bringing you the attention of a particular deity. Some, it seems, are intended to answer certain expressed wishes. My siblings may be glad to know that we chose a different type of fortune for them than the ones decoded here, from the shop at Sanjusangendo.

At Kiyomizu, a candidate for one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, we're back among the crowds. Temple dogs, brilliant red-orange paint, blue and green dragons, stark and rather creepy elephants, this place is vivid. The scenery is truly spectacular. The hills seem painted with trees in the full energy of spring. Everywhere are people walking, posing, occasionally praying. Heavy and colorful braided ropes lead to large bells, ready to call attention to one's prayers. Neat rows of shoes await the return of the worshippers.

Beneath the temple, massive tree trunks and thick wood planks serve as the foundation, a careful lattice-work upon which centuries of visitors have depended. Kind of makes me want to go up there again and appreciate it all the more.

At a pond by the edge of the grounds, turtles swim and bask in the sun, fallen pink petals decorating their shells. A woman presses papers into our hands. On the 6th and 9th of every month beginning in 1971, the Kyoto Teachers' Union Women's Organization comes here seeking signatures on their petition to abolish nuclear weapons, and contributions to help the hibakusha, survivors of the atomic bombs.

Nearby, a monk stands solemnly with his begging bowl. We watch for a while and do not see anyone offer him food or money. After all the 100-yen trinkets for sale, one would hope that good will toward an individual monk would serve up some true karma.

And then once again we are back in the city itself. After some additional driving about, we are dropped off as requested within walking distance to the ryokan. The day remains sunny and mild and more strolling is a pleasure.

We wander a bit through the streets, then realize we have missed lunch ourselves. "Do fries come with that?" has become the personal chorus of one of our members, and we decide to indulge him. We find a fast food place called Lotteria that boasts something suspiciously called "nuggets" and an option to upgrade from medium anything to large anything. Our simple order rapidly becomes complex and none of us can guess what we'll eventually receive. One of us will no doubt get the hamburger, which comes with a fried egg on top. Ian's nuggets turn out to be made of real chicken. We are mystified.

Across the street is a shop called Selfish (who buys here?) and a cap and hat store called Pinhead. Hmm.

Following lunch, Mother and Father take a leisurely stroll through nearby lanes of shops before heading back to the inn. Gary, Troy, Ian and I strike out for neighborhoods beyond the river. Dozens of soaring and swooping hawks. Herons and egrets and ducks in the water. Kids doing extreme wheelies on the picnic grounds.

We are lured by the unexpected sight of skulls adorning cloth and duck into the shop of an artist. He paints shirts and other fabrics, featuring rather macabre versions of Japanese lore. [Seeking permission to post photo and confirm website address for your browsing pleasure.]

We pass a small temple gate guarded by akita, serious and solemn about his duties. He is uninterested in travelers missing their animal families. Good dog.

And because this is Kyoto, our walking takes us past more temples, more cherry blossoms, more picnickers. The hawks we have seen all day continue their flight as dusk approaches, with the latest one being harried by 20-30 ravens.

Our last temple foray is ultimately the most commercial. Stands offer everything from the usual squid and octopus snacks to the usual Mickey Mouse, Stitch and Jack Skellington. We maintain our dignity and pass them by.

A priestess with the day's fortunes.

Eventually we find ourselves in Gion at dusk. Astonished to say we are thrilled at the sight of geisha and even a maiko (we think... must study photos). Complete tourist madhouse when they appear, camera flashes going off and people chasing them down the narrow lanes until they glide into refined teahouses the likes of which we commoners know better than to attempt to enter. And here I thought I'd be unfazed. Truth be told, I really didn't think we'd see them; it certainly wasn't intentional. At least, not on my part. :) They are LOVELY. I can understand the fascination and now have a secret wish to come back and see them perform the old dances some May.


It is now Tuesday morning, April 10, and we will shortly head for Beppu, undertaking a three-leg train journey that should see us there by late afternoon/ early evening. Mother is anxious to see her family. We are all happy to have come so far and to be reaching the main purpose of our trip.

It seems unlikely we will have easy access or time to post when we reach the sea, but if we can, we will. Meantime, much love to all.