Kyoto is best summed up with poetry.
-Eleven floors up
From Kawaramachi-dori—
Aerobatic crows.
-White bread, hard-boiled egg, straight ahead jazz—
Kyoto breakfast.
-Temples flourish
In the cold and the mist—
Kyoto below.
-Thousands of Gods and Buddha’s—
A young boy looks up and asks his mother,
“How many gods are there?”
A Morning in a Kyoto Hotel
It is very civilized: roasted tea after a bath and warm soak, reading the neatly pressed Japan Times in the deep folds of a soft bathrobe while looking out onto the Kyoto foothills. And it is quiet in the morning. Commerce does not commence until after 8AM. The river glistens as it heads to the sea with a few joggers and
dog walkers filling out the scene. It appears to have rained as we slept in our cocoon.
-Snow on the mountain
Blankets ancient cherry trees—
The buds remain for another day.
Notes on a Morning’s Drive to Nagasaki
Rain soaks the rice fields. Low ceiling and hills, or are they mountains hidden in the clouds. The train weaves its way through a countryside of compounds, industry, and green. Water is controlled: rivers, marshland, gates, canals, ditches, and flooded fields. We bank 10 to 15 degrees around the curves and the track sings out in a comforting rather than scary or disturbing way. It is raining — torrents of rain — which drench the train’s windows obscuring the view. It is impressionistic.
Cherry blossoms struggle to stay on the trees. I wonder if the rain keeps the bees indoor. If it does, they will have to stay cozy for the forecast is rain, rain, and rain. Suddenly, I realize that much of the terrain I am looking at has evolved over thousands of years.
And now the train is on the coast skimming the shoreline left to right, weaving around shallow bays and breakwaters. A gale obscures the offshore islands. Here and there, a few fishing boats are attached to breakwaters, but no pleasure craft are in sight.
The first terraced fields appear with ancient gravesites hidden within the folds of the hills. The schoolgirls next to me look like they are doing zazen, but they are probably napping: readying themselves for a day of study, activity, and striving to enter Kyoto University.
We are gliding into Nagasaki on a seamless track. No more clunk-clunk of the rails, just speed, tunnels; our ears popping from the pressure changes as we scream in and out of tunnels.
Homes are snaking their way up the valleys, crowding out the rice fields. The train is travelling as through a dark wormhole to another universe and I suppose we are too. To our second ground zero in five years.
From Nagasaki to Fukuoka
We pull out of Shin-Tosu on our way back to Fukuoka from Nagasaki, and I see the conductor by the JR (Japanese Railroad) ticket station make a formal bow: hands at the side. I see him for a split second for the shinkansen rapidly accelerates and it starts me thinking the way a mind can with multiple “trains” of thought.
What is he bowing to? Is he bowing to the train itself; to the crew; to the people within; to the designers and the builders of the train, track, and station; to his superiors; to the politicians who were enlightened enough to approve it; to the emperor who sits atop the pyramid; to the Shinto kami that allowed the natural world to be cleared so we can ride the rails. I suppose to all the above or so I would like to think.
Osaka to Ise
In Osaka, it takes being on the 31st floor to find tranquility. It is 9:00 AM and we are heading for the yellow train that will take us to Ise. This morning we had our usual Chicago breakfast of yogurt and bananas, tea and coffee, and surgery donuts; and not what we have grown use to: fish, squid, octopus, shrimp, miso soup, rice, pickles, tea, black sesame juice, salad, greens with tofu skin, etc., etc.
The Ise-Shima Liner is a holiday train. No grim faces here, no slumped heads, no closed eyes, just lots of cheerful banter. It helps that there is the possibility of the sun showing its face today after days of cold and rain.
Osaka is another city in Japan brought to an abrupt end by mountains. Against all the odds, the sakura are still in bloom, so our visit to the shrine may be extra special.
I think of few words to describe our trip so far: elated, engaged, honored, anxious, determined, relieved, exploration, gustation, weariness, grumpiness, renewal, and inspiration.
Then suddenly, Sun! and Blue!
We wander through the rivers, shrines, and rocks. We visit the ocean, and eat Ise soba. Apart from the main shrine, Ise is a quiet town. The second shrine of the complex was almost devoid of people but I think more impressive. Massive trees intermingle with the pristine shrines. Muted white granite stones demarcate their new building sites. Built from wood and stone gathered by the local populace.
Osaka, the final destination.
Osaka’s Castle Park felt like NYC’s Central Park with music of every ilk, bird watchers, multitudes of characters, cute dogs (and the only misbehaved cur in Japan), street food, boat rides, etc. The only difference was the amount of drinking under the what’s-left-of-the-cherry blossoms. The air was thick with roasting fish and the sounds of music. It was a free for all.
Osaka’s canal boat trip was underwhelming, as least by Chicago River standards, but no matter it was nice to get out on the water. Our subway pass was well used. We went this and that way. The Red, Green and Blue line crosshatched us all over town.
We tried to do more in Osaka but finally gave in and bought dinner at the “Food Mart” 32 floors below our hotel room. Before we ate, we packed deciding that Osaka was manageable by day but by night, well I guess we are too old!
On the last night in Japan, I start to think of things to do back home: make a tea bowl, a chashitsu, use my tea ware, walk, play the shakuhachi, and do something artistic every day. Japan was demanding, exhausting, and in the end, exhilarating!
May 2015
