Day 12 Himeji and Hiroshima

What a great day this was! Filled with 5-star sights, blessed with blue skies and great weather. One a graceful castle with clean stone walls soaring up into the air, steeped in history and the other, one of Japan's, indeed the world's, saddest sites.


Bright and early, we backtracked to Shin Osaka to hop on a shinkansen for the 25min ride to Himeji.


Our first time checking out the unreserved cars, we got in line but did not realise that we had gotten in line for the Smoking carriage! Arghh!!


The ride was only 25-minutes but it felt like hours and probably took 3 years off my life. We literally sat in a blue haze, coughing, sputtering and choking as the air turned greyish-blue with passengers lighting up all around!

Lesson learned the hard way - look for RIGHT train car before we start queuing! Usually there would be at least one car for smoking and the rest are non-smoking. Just our stupid luck we got on the wrong one.

From Himeji JR, it was easy to hop on practically any bus to go up the 1-km long avenue to Himeji castle. There was actually a designated tourist bus for this purpose but we got on a city bus and it was not a problem.

Himeji is worth seeing because it is the only intact castle left in Japan that still stands despite the years of war, WW2 bombing, industrialisation and so on. Its not called the white crane castle for nothing, with its white walls and stone fan walls curving gracefully upwards, it is a very elegant structure. Crossing the first moat, you would come to a wide expanse of land (see picture on the left).

This used to be the site of the samurai enclave, now long gone. Imagine if you will, the town of Himeji encircled by concentric canals and moats. The outermost ring of houses and buildings taken by the farmers, then merchants and traders and crossing the main moat, the samurai and finally, right at the heart, Himeji itself. Designed to repel invaders by a series of corridors and passages and moats, Himeji never saw any warfare.

The day looked a bit gloomy at first but soon brightened up. There were no English guides available that day but it was alright - the brochure and the signages were excellent. No problem finding our way around. Picture on the left is the water gate. The size of the gate was deliberately kept a tad smaller than the norm to make it difficult for large armies to squeeze through, slowing their advance to the main donjon.

We liked the West Bailey building which included the famous long corrider and cosmetic tower where Princess Sen lived for many happy years. We also saw, to our amazement, winter sakura! Himeji is well-known for its cherry blossoms in springtime when thousands of trees burst into pale pink and white bloom. So I guess for us, having missed that gorgeous spectacle, the next best thing was to chance upon a small grove of winter sakura. See below - aren't they pretty?

After passing through many buildings, passageways and gates, we finally come to the main keep itself. The view from the lawn in front of the castle was fantastic. Climbing up and up into the higher floors of the main castle was challenging because it got steeper and steeper. Right at the end you're just hauling yourself up almost vertically. At the very top is a shrine and marvellous views of the surrounding city and suburbs.

Highlights of the rest of Himeji include the harakiri-maru, a small building with a well in the courtyard. This was meant, rather gruesomely, for ritual suicides. If the lord had ordered someone to commit seppuku or ritual suicide, he would be sent to this courtyard for his fate. The well was there to wash the corpse and the severed head. However, since Himeji never saw any battle action, the harakiri maru also never saw any suicides taking place. The kids were also fascinated by Okiku's well. In one corner of the grounds, there is a well which was supposedly haunted by the ghost of a maid who died after being thrown into the well after being severely tortured as punishment for a trumped up charge of breaking one of the daimyo's dishes.

From Himeji, it was another easy shinkansen ride to Hiroshima. It was late in the afternoon by the time we got to Hiroshima. We left our bags in the hotel and took a tram to Hiroshima's key sight - the Peace Park.

The twisted metal and skeletal dome of the Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall stood across the road from the tram stop. It was left standing as a reminder - for peace. It was hard to believe that more than 50 years ago, this area was devastated by a single bomb. The scene before us looked so idyllic in the evening - people strolling by the river banks, the autumn hues in full glory, couples sitting by the riverbank. Hard to believe it was all gone, flattened by the force of the bomb so many years ago.

One of the most moving sights was the Children's Peace Monument, and the display of many millions of colourful paper cranes folded by school children all over Japan. The story of Sadako Sasaki is well-known and I won't repeat it here. I had heard that every year, hundreds of new colourful cranes are sent to the park. I wonder if the children are told the full picture of the war. They should. I hope they are making the cranes not as a perfunctory exercise for a long-dead girl, but in understanding that war is a terrible thing and the worst casualties are the innocent children.

In Hiroshima, many of the dead and injured were children who had left school to work in the factories to contribute to the war effort. Most of those who died that day suffered severe burns as they stared into the sky, fascinated by the light of the bomb. Sadako was only two then. But the shadows of war are long and she died anyway, years later, barely making it out of childhood.

Okay, this is not a political blog and I am not a historian or political commentator. I come from a place which also suffered at the hands of the Japanese many years ago. I still recall stories from my grandmother about the atrocities that were committed in Singapore and Malaya then, and of course, who can forget the horror of what happened in Nanking. But being here in Hiroshima, wandering through the sad exhibits of the excellent Peace Memorial Museum, helps me see a different perspective and understand a little more. It's always easy to villify a race or a people for the sins of the fathers, but harder to understand and accept that the people on the ground were not all like that, that they had families as well, and these families also suffered from the ravages of war, that life cannot be simply squared off about who owes the greater debt.

War is war. People die. It is horrific. It is never fair no matter whose side you're on. What is scarier for me is to know that today, bombs more than 100 times more powerful than the atomic bomb that devastated Hiroshima exists. And we are all vulnerable at the mercy of those who can press the red button. And these days, they need not be war-mongering politicians but terrorists.

We all think that our generation is past the horrors of the previous generations, that we are more sanguine and better able to forget. Or maybe not even care anymore. But interestingly enough, everytime (and I mean everytime) I spoke to someone to share what I saw in Hiroshima, there would always be this dismissive tone, as if to say: "well they started it, they deserved it." Not in so many words but it is what I sense in the tone of their voices, the raising of eyebrows and a shrug or two. But the truth is, when you see the horrors of Hiroshima, the blackened ruins of Oradour Sur Glane in France, the thin slick of oil floating in the waters of Pearl Harbour, as I have, then you know that nothing squares up in life and nobody really "deserves it."

The walk through the park was a nice one. The place was serene and the autumn leaves were beautiful. While everywhere there were memorials, monuments, even a large burial mound that contained the ashes of 70,000 who died that first day, the mood was not depressing or mournful. Rather, it was hopeful. These things were placed there for us to remember and reflect.

The highlight of the park for me was the excellent museum with very good explanatory notes for every exhibit. Many of the exhibits were heartrending - the bloodied and torn clothes of a child, the mangled remains of tricycle, a shadow burned into the steps of a bank, the small pathetic possessions of the dead – smashed glasses, melted coins, toys, exercise books and school bags that were singed, burned and so on. For those who did not die instantaneously in the blast, some children actually managed to walk home, bodies blistered and skin peeling off, only to die in agony hours later. And then of course, there were those who died months, years later, like Sadako.

It was horrific, gruesome and probably over-excessive in parts but also very, very sad. For me as a mother to read about the children who died, it was very painful. Even the older kids were moved. Gillian and Cait wrote their condolences and comments in a visitor book. Isaac was mostly silent as he moved around to read the different accounts. Trin of course was oblivious and Owain was more goggly-eyed about “Little Boy” (the name of the bomb) than the fallout and the tragedy that ensued.

But amidst the sombre faces, we did have a really good laugh when we saw that the first test site of the atomic bomb was a place called Trinity! And the highly radioactive greenish-blue bits of glassy stones left after the explosion is called Trinitite! Now that is so fitting! God sure has a sense of humour in letting me name my firecracker of a kid Trinity.

Hiroshima is a small town than Osaka and Tokyo and its central shopping area showed it. The place seemed to be quieter and more shops closed early. KH and I closed the night doing laundry! Which was a big mistake. We had to do multiple loads with the dryer and I had to work it with the clothes press since it turned out that the hotel’s dryer was a real lemon! It dried VERY little and very slowly. But when you have a full load, that could really take a while. We finally collapsed at 2am with damp socks, underwear, tees and jeans strewn around us and draped over furniture.

Day 11 Koyasan and Osaka

It was dark when I woke up, stumbling over sleeping bodies on the futon to shiver while getting dressed. While staying in a temple, it was only polite and respectful to try to participate in some form of temple life, particularly in their prayer time or ceremonies. In Koyasan, some temples conduct fire ceremonies in the morning but here in Shojoshinin, it was just simply morning prayers.

But even that meant getting up at 5.45am to make it for morning prayers in the big hall. I was the earliest to arrive, after a few wrong turns in the darkened and quiet corridors.

I met the tall monk who checked us in from the day before and he smilingly showed me the way. I took my place on a bench at the back of the hall. Kerosene heaters were ablaze and creating a quiet buzzing in the early morning silence. One by one, other bleary-eyed travellers came in and sat at the back with me. We said little to each other beyond a smile and 'good morning'. Probably it was too early or the hushed atmosphere which just required silence.

I thought I would be bored, but surprisingly, I was not. It was interesting to hear the monks chanting, the occasional clash of cymbals or the deep resonating 'dong' of the bell. There was a soothing rhythm to the chants, like a pleasant, meandering humming river. In the semi-darkness with only the light of candles, sitting with strangers and listening to monks' chanting in the early hours of the morning, it was an experience well worth waking up early for!

It was almost 7am by the time the ceremony was over and time for breakfast. The kids were up by the time I went back to the hanare. Everyone was excited - there was frost on the leaves! It was the first time we had ever seen frost. The night before had been still but deeply cold but yet it was a nice surprise for all of us to actually see the silver-rimmed leaves and branches in the morning!

Breakfast was again strictly vegetarian fare. But it was good! I enjoyed the stewed spinach (in the middle of the tray) and happily accepted everybody else's offer of it since most of the kids did not like their veg. Isaac surprised me this trip by really being very enthusiastic about his food - in particular the kaiseki meal at Kokuya and the shojin ryori at Shojoshinin.

Breakfast over, we regretfully checked out of the hanare. I think all of us wished we had that little house for longer. But it was more practical to check out since we were going to Okunoin and we would not be able to make it back in time for the official check-out time.

Okunoin was vast, sprawling, spreading over hectares filled with towering ancient cedars, mossy stones, red-bibbed Jizos and the tantalisingly lure of legends. There was the tiny well which was said to be able to foretell your long life or predict death. If you could see your reflection in the waters below, you would be assured of a decent lifespan. If you could not, expect to say sayonara in two to three years!


Then there is this one on the right - a tiny stone post commemorating a nun who died several hundred years ago. It was said that if you listened hard enough, you could hear the sounds of hell echoing from below. Yes my kids just HAD to try this even though they were nervously giggling away! For the record, they heard nothing.



Okunoin was fascinating. There were small tombs belonging to individuals, names eroded by time and covered in moss, there were large tombs bought by corporate big names like Panasonic or UCC Coffee for their employees... everyone just wants a share of the land nearest Kobo Daishi in the afterlife! There was even a largish tomb shaped like a space rocket and another that had a jet airplane. These were found in the newer section of the cemetery when we walked back to catch the bus.


After almost 45minutes, we got closer to the heart of Okunoin - the mausoleum of Kobo Daishi. The path opened out into a clearing with a big hall. This is where you can make your offerings, get your temple stamp and calligraphy, purchase omamori and so on. This is also the place where temple staff prepare meals for Kobo Daishi. They believe he is still alive and hence will still faithfully prepare meals for him. This is also where eight significant statues are, among them six Jizos. Pilgrims are encouraged to drench the statues with water to provide succour and relief for the Jizos when they descend to the netherworld to do their job - protect and give relief to the souls of the tiny babies who have died, been aborted or miscarried, or children who have died in childhood. It is said that when these babies die, their souls go to a netherworld where they do hard labour. It is a cold, friendless stony place which is often dry and hot. Jizo would descend to help the babies and protet them against the nasty demons who are ever ready to torment them. Drenching the Jizo can be compared to fire-fighters who pour water over themselves before running in to fight a deadly blaze.

Just next to the row of statues is the bridge running over the Tamagawa stream, called Gobyo-no hashi. Embedded in the stream bed are a line of wooden stakes called sotoba, memorials to the drowned and miscarried babies. Once acrosss the bridge, photography is not allowed. But in the background, you can see the steps leading up to the Hall of Lanterns, or Torodo. Kobo Daishi's tomb is behind this hall. It is said we have to cross the bridge with a pure mind and a pure heart. I'm not sure if i filled this criteria but heck, we crossed anyway!



Just beyond the bridge are more tombs, in one corner, the tombs of emperors. Among them is a small building, about the size of a phone booth, with lattice wooden walls. Within is the Miroku-ishi rock. This is a rock, I think about 3 kg heavy, like a black oval oversized egg. The legend is that you've got to move the rock from its resting place to a ledge above. If you can do that, you have a pure heart and you're probably a good person since the stone is supposed to feel light to the good and heavy to those who are evil. The catch is, you can only use one hand to do lift it since there is only a small window, enough for one arm to go through.



Okay, pity pictures were not allowed because we all tried our best to lift it amidst much pained expressions, red faces, loud grunts and popping joints from arm sockets. Some of us came close but none succeeded. Except for KH. It seemed almost effortless to him. So now you know who has the purest heart among all of us!



With the exception of Trin, who had a mini tantrum, there seemed to be a solemn air pervading the Torodo and understandably so. Within the hall are thousands of bronze lanterns kept alight continuously. These are donated by devotees. Out of these, in the back of the hall, are two that have been kept alight for more than 1000 years. One was donated by an emperor and the other by an old woman who sold everything she had to buy the lantern.



Just behind the Torodo, shrouded in circling mists of incense and flowers, is Kobo Daishi's mausoleum. You could offer a lit candle here, or a lit joss. But we chose to just stand in silence as a mark of respect, contemplating the legend of the man and the whole trail of tombs that have led us here, to the heart of Okunoin. Another family was there. They had a man in his 50s with them and from the sound of it, he might have been suffering from Tourette's syndrome. Every once in a while, the silence would be broken by a sudden shout or agitated yell in Japanese. It was startling and rather disconcerting. The kids glanced curiously at him and asked why he was yelling like this. I said he could not help it, he wasn't trying to be rude but it was a condition he suffered from.



It took us more than 45min just to walk one way to the Torodo and about another 40min to walk back. En route, I got my henro from the Gokusho, the Hall of Offerings. We passed the memorial tomb of the famous 47 ronin and their master Asano. We took the path that led through the newer wing of the cemetery where tombs were clearly built sometime in the middle of the last century. Along the way, we passed tombs marked with icons of rockets and aeroplanes!



It was almost 2pm by the time we got the bus back to Shojoshinin, collected our bags, walked to the heart of town, got the next bus down to the bus station for our ride all the way back down to Gokurabashi and to Osaka. Lunch was in a little cafe perched on a hillside, next to the funicular station. It had great valley views and tasty meals. The kids loved the niku udon and the beef curry.



In Osaka, we had no problem finding our hotel since it was just almost outside the Nankai station. We just had to find the right exit, climb the stairs and right at the top, at street level, is the entrance to Hotel Ichiei! Convenient! Especially when you're tired from a lot of travelling.

I liked Ichiei for its interesting rooms and spacious layout - generous by business hotel standards. The kids had a full tatami-mat Japanese room with futon bedding while KH, Trin and I had a semi-western/Japanese style room. Both were tastefully done up and I liked the fact that they had internet connections but I was not very comfortable with the lack of security. Anyone could come up from street level right into the room floors without passing the front desk. But the price was certainly good value for the rooms we got and it was in the heart of Minami, easy access to nightlife, food and shopping.



It was raining but because the Namba area had such a warren of underground walkways, stations and shopping malls, we could easily walk from our hotel to the main shopping drag without getting wet. Once above ground, there were covered arcades with a bewildering array of food choices. We all pigged out on 100yen conveyor belt sushi for dinner. Cheap, not the best grade of fish and cuts, but satisfying. We had grand plans initially, to walk around the Dotombori area, but I think we were all a bit tired from the journey. With the rain pouring down, it just seemed easier to head back and crash for an early night. The next day was going to be day packed with 5-star sights and lots of travelling!

Day 10 Koyasan

We left K's House early to get breakfast at this little ramen joint near Kyoto station. This was very near the bridge where I thought I had left my book the day before. It was not far to walk from K's House. The little shop was bustling with locals coming in and out for the yummy ramen. It was so small that there was no place to queue and anyone coming in just stood awkwardly against the door and waited for someone to finish. Obviously so, we had to leave our bulky backpacks at the entrance, taking up even more space in the already packed-to-the-gills shop.

Everything was in Japanese. See the prices on the wall. So we had no idea what we were ordering. We just said with big smiles "Ramen!" and held up our fingers to indicate how many bowls. But just as we were blur, the guy serving us was just as blur! So we were really communicating like chicken and duck! To his credit, each time the frustration got to him, he just took a deep breath, excused himself with a "Chotto!" and went off serving someone else. So we just had to be really patient and wait. Eventually, we got all our orders - much later than the other customers because of the communication difficulty. But the soup was thick and flavourful and the ramen nicely al dente - a great breakfast all round.





From Kyoto station, we took a shinkansen to Shin Osaka. It was easy-peasy to do with our JR Pass. Just hop on the train but be careful not to take the Nozomi which the JR Pass does not cover. Reservations not needed, we just made sure we were in line early enough in the designated queue for the non-reserved cars. From Kyoto to Osaka, it was only about 15min by shinkansen. Picture on the left shows us on the shinkansen platform at Kyoto station.

Once at Shin-Osaka, it was also very easy to just head for the basement directly below the JR station to catch the subway south to Namba where we had to take the train to Koya-san. Namba station is the heart and soul of Osaka's Minami district where the restaurants, nightlife etc are. The place is vibrant day and night both above, and below ground. A network warren of malls connect the Namba subway station with the Nankai station. Nankai station is a privately owned line and the Koya line takes us all the way to Koya-san, one of Japan's most sacred places.

We decided not to cart all our backpacks to Koya-san since we were only spending a night there and returning to Osaka the next day. So we had arranged enough of our stuff to go into one daypack and the rest of the big packs were stored in the left luggage section of Nankai station. It would have been better to get one of the big lockers but they were all booked out. Note that there are limited large lockers in Nankai Namba station, but if you had no choice - like us - you could easily just put them with the left luggage counter. Its pretty costly though - 600yen per bag per day. So with two backpacks, it cost us 2400yen just to store luggage!



Getting to Koya-san is really half the fun of the whole experience. The train, more like a commuter train, first cuts through the concrete urban jungle of Osaka. Then it leaves the wires and telephone poles and grey cement behind for green fields, tiny crop holdings, small townships. As the train gradually empties out, it chugs higher into the hills, clinging to hillsides of bamboo and cedar, stopping at isolated stations perched precariously on ledges overlooking rushing streams and forest. Who really lives here? Surely there must be people living nearby or a station would not have been built here. But apart from the lone wooden single-storey station building, there were no other houses immediately in the vicinity that we could see. The views spanned from valleys, hillsides bronzed in green gold from the afternoon sun, darkened into tunnels and opened out into blue, shadowed stations.

Koyasan is all about mist, legend, reverence and faith. The temples, the village that grew around it and the large rambling grounds of Okunoin, Japan's largest cemetery all grew out of faith and devotion to Kukai the monk, the founder of Shingon Buddhism, otherwise known as Kobo Daishi the saint who is even now believed to be not dead, but in deep eternal meditation in his incense-shrouded mausoleum.

As a Catholic, I have visited several Catholic shrines in Europe. This time, though not a Buddhist, I approach this visit to Koyasan with the same reverie and contemplation that comes with visiting a very holy place. But as with all pilgrimages, getting to a holy place is never easy or straightforward - in both the physical and spiritual sense. In Koyasan's case, getting to Koyasan for us entailed taking three trains, one funicular ropeway and one bus!

We arrived at Gokurabashi, the terminal station, where a red lacquered bridge spanned a rushing river and a red-bibbed Jizo sat tranquilly at one end. From Gokurabashi, we took the funicular up the steep hillside to the bus terminal.




From the bus terminal, no one is permitted to walk the last stretch to Koyasan village because it was a winding road meant only for vehicles. Our tickets from Namba Nankai covered the whole trip - train, funicular and bus-ride. But this was not included in the JR pass.

Koyasan village has one main street flanked by shops and temples. I had chosen to stay at Shojoshinin right at the end of Koyasan village because it was right next to the entrance to Okunoin which would be handy for late night strolls. We arrived under blue skies and golden late afternoon sun. Despite the long journey, we were all excited to finally be here. And as if in response to our great mood, we saw a shooting star cross the late afternoon sky, its tail trailing bright white against the blue. First time in my life I ever saw one and it happened here in Koyasan. Does it have any significance? We found our way to Shojoshinin with no problem. The bus-stop was right across the road. This is the side gate of Shojoshinin.


All seemed quiet but we bumped into a tall monk who spoke some English. He welcomed us warmly and checked us in, briefing us on the dos and don'ts before showing us to our room, or more correctly, our house! Yes, we got a private residence, called a hanare, all to ourselves!


Set apart from the main temple buildings, the hanare is a standalone house surrounded by gardens. From the picture above, the hanare stands out of sight in the greenery on the right of the gate as you enter.



Kids enjoying the kotatsu!


Like all Japanese houses, we removed our shoes before stepping up the steps into the house. There was a living area which came complete with a kotatsu! A kotatsu is a heated table with a blanket. People sit at the table with their feet beneath the blanket, warmed by the heat there. Very useful for cold nights.




There were three sleeping areas, easily demarcated into rooms with gilded sliding shoji screen doors. Futons were already laid out in readiness. The toilets (one western with a heated seat and the other a traditional Japanese squat type) was outside the living/sleeping area, along one side of the house. There was a traditional deep tub made of cedar for Japanese style bathing. A glass enclosed veranda ran all around the house's perimeter. Steps led from the veranda down to the little garden in front of the house.






All we could say was: Wow!

We had some time before dinner - which was served early at 5.30pm. Initially we wanted to walk Okunoin that evening but because dinner was so early, we abandoned that plan. Instead, we explored the first 300m of the cemetery and then made a u-turn to return to the temple.

What's so special about Okunoin, you might ask? And why do the creepy thing by walking through a cemetery? Well, Okunoin is fascinating. When Kobo Daishi passed away more than 1200 years ago, his body was interred in a mausoleum in Okunoin and since then, hundreds of thousands of Buddhist faithfuls have sought to have their remains buried near him. From emperors to shoguns, witches and monks, poets and even today's corporate warriors, anybody who was ever somebody in Japan, everyone wants to get in on the action when Kobo Daishi (as they believe) rises again because he's the only guy who can interpret what the Miroku Buddha says, so there is much jockeying to get into pole position among the dead.

Big corporations like Panasonic and UCC Coffee reserve lots here for their faithful employees' ashes. If you can't be bodily interred here, even a lock of hair, a fingernail clipping would do.



And as for walking through the cemetery at night, we just wanted to experience the atmosphere at night. It is said that Okunoin by night is especially atmospheric.


Walking through it at dusk with the kids, it was not scary at all. We 'purified' ourselves by washing our hands with water from the purification fount just before the bridge at the entrance. There were others also walking the path. The graves were old and mossy but the paths were kept in good condition. We didn't go far because we didn't have time. The stone lanterns, flanking the path, were just lit and the light falling as we turned back to go for dinner.



Dinner was served in a large communal hall. There were other guests there as well but we were separated from each other by screens. The monks served us dinner with a shy smile and then left.


Dinner was vegetarian - shojin ryori - no meat, no onions, no garlic. We ate sitting on cushions bent over red lacquered trays.


KH the neanderthal suffered for the lack of meat! But I thought dinner was great and very flavourful. I could not get enough of the softly fluffy rice with stewed beans or vegetables. The tempura veggies were also light, crisp and delicious with the dipping sauce and some daikon. The tofu, Koya tofu, was different from the usual tofu, being stickier and a bit more pasty. It took some getting used to, but it was good. The younger kids had the cream of veggie soup in addition to their servings.






After dinner, the children indulged in their favourite Japanese activity - bathing! After soaking in the hot bath, they huddled under the kotatsu and watched tv while KH and I wore our yukatas and tanzen and headed off for a night walk through Okunoin. We had a tiny torch but did not need to use it. The path was lit by occasional streetlamps and the orange light from the stone lanterns. We could barely see the graves on either side of the path.





I did not get any eerie feelings. The only time I felt a bit nervous was a swath of path that was not lit by any streetlamp. We used the torch and that was the only time I felt like hurrying.

We didn't go far because it was a 45-minute walk all the way into the inner sanctuary of Okunoin. So we turned back.




The night was cold and very still. There was no wind, no movement in the air, just a deep chill. I felt a nice sense of peace sitting out on the veranda after the walk. There was a cemetery, more than a thousand years old, right next door, darkness was all around, but the lights from the hanare were warm and comforting and the stars in the night sky sparkled brightly. I had never seen so many stars. It occurred to me that dressed in my yukata, hair pulled up in a knot, sitting on the veranda of a Japanese house, that I could not be more "in the moment". Perhaps hundreds of years ago, there could well be another woman dressed like me, sitting the same way and staring out at the same timeless stars. I liked the sense of parallelism.

Japan trip picture gallery

Okay, I am interrupting the trip reports on Japan to say that if you would like to see more pictures of our time in Japan, you can do so at my public gallery in Picasa.

http://picasaweb.google.com/chongbrood

The pictures of our trip in 2007 are also posted there, so be careful you don't get mixed up when you browse the pictures. Note that not all the pictures are uploaded as yet - yes I know I am very slow, blame it on the festive period, new school terms and being mom to five kids! So please check in from time to time to see new albums.

I am doing it like this because it is just too time-consuming to post many pictures with every blog entry. The system is really crawling and for some weird reason, spacing is always affected, making my entries look a bit untidy - which gets on my anal retentive nerves. Also, we just have too many pictures to put them all on the blog. And some are just too nice to leave out.

I will still post some pictures but it might not be as many. Hopefully with this move, I will be able to post the rest of the trip reports more efficiently and a lot faster! KH - slave driver - always grumbles that I am taking too long. It chafes at me too - especially since my backlog has grown with the recent Malaysia trip and I'd like to add hotel and trip reports on that too.

Day 9 Kyoto

Let me say upfront that this is one of the worst days of the trip for me. At least, it ended like that.
The day started out bright and sunny as we made our way via subway and bus to Daitokuji. This sprawling temple complex is in the northwestern corner of Kyoto, far from the main tourist drags of Higashiyama. We expected it to be quieter and so it was.

The first of the temples we visited was Korin-in, built between 1521 and 1533. It was quiet enough that we could enjoy the pared down karesansui, the dry landscape garden. We sat there for a while to reflect and listen to each other's interpretation on what the design was all about. Someone said it looked like islands in the sea. I don't know, but it was peaceful just sitting there and thinking for a bit. A nice comma in the midst of all the travel.

We chose Korin-in because I wanted the children to visit at least one Zen rock garden. After all, sand and stone are not exactly what comes to mind when the word garden is mentioned. Yet the starkness of the karesansui is precisely what lends it open to interpretation and in my opinion, any garden that engages the senses and pleases the eye would have done what it was designed to do. In the sand and the stones and their careful placement, one can find meaning if one pauses to think yet it can also be enjoyed for its clean, spare and austere lines.

The obvious choice for most visitors would be to visit the iconic but very crowded Ryoanji - also in the northwestern corner of Kyoto. But that would mean battling crowds again and from all the write-ups I've seen, this means the noise factor, the crowds etc will all detract from giving us the space and serenity needed to contemplate the garden. Hence we decided on Korin-in. Less well-known, quieter but also intriguing.

Korin-in also had a lovely mossy garden running along its sides. The reds, not at their peak, were not showy, but the pale green and orange-red blends to a very soothing combination.

From the gravel and rock Zen garden of Korin-in, we walked past various other temples and sub-temples. Daitokuji was large but most ofthe other temples, hidden behind ochre walls and bamboo, were closed to the public.

It didn't really matter to us because we were heading, along with a growing steady stream of visitors, to the small but very pretty Koto-in.

Koto-in is built by a famous samurai known to be an expert in the tea ceremony. Sansai, who built this temple, is known to be one of the seven best pupils of the tea ceremony master Senno Rikyu. Well, I don't know much about the tea ceremony, but the gardens are really pretty. We were not the only ones. The place was pretty crowded but it was not the sort of people crush you would otherwise get at Higashiyama. In certain parts of the garden, the trees and foliage are at full autumn bloom and the reds get so intense that they seem almost luminescent and unreal. You almost feel as if someone did a Photoshop on these colours.

We left Koto-in while Trin had a meltdown. While trying to calm her as we carried her down one of the lanes leaving the Daitokuji complex, a cheerful voice said: "Little baby, why are you crying?" You could hear the big smile in the voice as we turned to find a monk, quite colourfully and regally garbed, complete with headgear, beaming at Trin as he patted her on the head and went on his way.

It was a fleeting encounter but it left a nice warm feeling with us. Outside Daitokuji, we paused for a quick lunch. As usual, we raided the combini nearby. But this time, we ate at the bus-stop, attracting some curious stares from passengers in buses that stopped there. It was very cold!

Negotiating the city buses was not difficult. The bus guide was useful. We had no difficulty finding our way to our next stop - Kinkakuji - the golden pavilion. The crowd at the Kinkakuji bus-stop left us in doubt which was the right stop to alight at!

The approach to the temple was beautiful with maples and gingkoes in full spectacular bloom. It was crowded as befitted a star attraction like Kinkakuji, but because the grounds are big, we never felt hemmed in.

Kinkakuji literally glowed. Even as the skies were grey and a fine drizzle misted the air, the building seemed to have a luminous sheen to it. This is not original of course, but a reproduction, since the original was burned to the ground by a monk about 50 years ago. Still, the scene of Kinkakuji reflected in the still waters of the pond is a classic sight, eponymous with Japan.

From Kinkakuji, we debated where to go. It had started to rain, not drizzle. We decided to join the throngs at the bus-stop and head for Kyoto station for an early dinner, giving Ryoanji a miss, since it was already about 4pm and getting dark. As usual, the bus was PACKED. Even though it was supposed to be an 'express' bus, it still took us the better part of an hour to get to Kyoto station. We were standing all the way, with the exception of Trin who demanded to sit. She sat in the midst of a bunch of Vietnamese tourists who were generally friendly and curious about Trin and about where we came from. The group was bunch of guys and girls who looked like they were in their early 20s with the girls perching on the guys' laps and encroaching into the next passenger's personal space - mine and Trin's. Okay, I was grumpy at having to stand, being jostled in what seemed like an unending journey. But they were friendly and they tried to be nice.

They offered her a mint and silently I was going: No-oooo!! I knew what would happen - Trin would happily accept, hold it in her mouth until the sweetness left and coolness started, whereupon she would shake her head and gesture to spit out. We were in a moving bus. It was so packed that I could barely get one hand into my bag. So NOT a good idea to give the baby mints! Resignedly, I could only watch as all that unfolded.

We reached Kyoto station with the windows fogged up from the breath and body heat of many packed into a tight, small space, like cattle. The bus driver was still unfailingly polite: Arigato gozaimasushita, he went, for every passenger. Owain asked why he had to keep saying that to everyone. I wondered if it was all on auto-pilot.

I was grumpy for another reason - I had lost my Lonely Planet and that was a library book. I racked my brains to recall where I had left it and the most logical place was a ledge on a bridge about 300m from Kyoto station where we had passed through earlier that morning. So I deposited KH and the kids at a ramen joint in the basement of Kyoto station and made my way, in the growing dark and in the rain, back to the bridge.

I didn't find it.

The bridge handrail was too thin for anything to rest on, so I could not have left it there. Back I went to Kyoto station, asking at the bus counter where they helpfully called the Kitaoji bus terminal to check - nada. Resigned to its loss, I went back to the ramen joint where everyone had eaten. A bit tired of ramen, I had something else - Japanese pasta in cream sauce with mentaiko, seaweed and a raw yolk - yummy! Even more yummy was the fact that I savoured my alone-ness for that brief period, as if I was alone in Japan and enjoying a nice meal at a counter in a pasta joint. Pity it didn't last long.

When I finished, we decided to head back to K's House. We decided to take a bus which would bring us closest to K's House. That would save us a walk in the rain and it would only take less than 10min by bus. Easy right? Wrong. I got the bus number right. But the direction was wrong. Instead of heading towards Shichijo-dori on the east, it turned west. Mind you, it was night by then and the rain was steadily falling. We tried counting the bus-stops and getting landmarks but in the dark and rain, everything looked different. We got off the bus and tried to figure out where we were and where the nearest bus-stop was. Logically, it was simple right? Just cross the road and take the next bus back to Kyoto station. Except that it wasn't.

First, the bus-stop was not "just across the road". It was down 150m, across a busy intersection and we didn't know which direction it was - north or south. There was only ONE bus heading back to Kyoto station and that would take another 40min to arrive.

While we waited, huddled under a shopfront's tiny awning - the bus-stop had no shelter - another bus trundled by. We saw the sign - Kyoto Station - and flagged it down. It was not crowded but only after getting on did we realise we could not use our Kyoto transport pass. By then, we didn't really care - we were just tired after a whole day of walking, tired of being lost and tired of the incessant rain and the cold.

Again logical thing to do was to stay on board until the bus reached Kyoto station right? Wrong! KH got antsy at the long line of vehicles turning into Kyoto station and fretted that it would be "faster to get down and walk back to K's House". Looking at the map, it did not look far.

What to do? Maps can be so frustratingly deceiving! And my dear husband can be so exasperatingly stubborn that its just not funny anymore! First, the rain was really coming down. So I said, let's stop and put on our raincoats. No, went he - no need, its not a lot of rain, too much hassle etc etc. But looking at the rain, I had had enough and I put my foot down. Raincoats out! I buttoned everyone up, hands shaking and teeth chattering. Lucky for us I did.

Did we reach K's House? Yes. Eventually. After trudging more than a kilometre in the rain, the cold etc, trying to recognise landmarks. I had half a mind to just hail a cab but Mr Stiff-Upper-Lip did not see the need to. So we trudged. Or straggled. I seethed. By the time we got back to K's House, what would have just taken us just 10min from Kyoto station, took more than an hour. The raincoats were dripping (so much for "Its not so much rain!"), our shoes were wet and we were all tired from our impromptu walk.

The hot water showers were blissful! Meanwhile, Mr Anti-Social KH had succeeded in burning out a hair dryer as he attempted to dry his shoes. A pungent burn smell combined with wet shoe smell permeated the corridors. When I came out to use the hairdryer, it didn't work. And the nice American lady I met the night before said: "I could smell the burning wire from my room. Someone must have burned the hairdryer." I knew who it was of course...

Thankfully, it was movie night so KH and the kids stayed in the TV room while I spaced out in my bunk. I needed the space. I was still annoyed. On top of all his bad decisions that night, what made me stew was his smug assertion that it was the "Italian factor" that was responsible for our lemon experience.

What was the "Italian factor"? Let me explain. Many years ago, we visited Italy and fell in love. We loved it so much we went back again the second time. But second time was not so lucky - the weather was bad, and somehow, the places we went to had lost its charm. So the trick, he always said, is NEVER go back to a country which you liked when you travelled there previously. Things will always go wrong and your experience would be lousy.

This time, he had issued the usual doom-and-gloom warnings about returning to Japan. The "Italian factor" he reminded me darkly. And this night's experience seemed to match all his dire warnings. The "I told you so" really stung. So I was in my bunk brooding and licking my wounds.

Kyoto, I feel, has no chemistry with us. The last time we were here, the same thing happened - bad weather, drama at Tofukuji, same bad bus ride experience and so on. But I disagreed with KH about the "Italian factor". I still enjoyed the other parts of Japan and I was still madly in love. True, the first flush of love is not there, but Japan is still fresh enough for me to provide some unexpected delightful surprises.

Its just... Kyoto. Or me?

Everyone inevitably gushes about Kyoto so I really feel like some kind of oddball, or cultural neanderthal to not fall in love with it as everyone else does. I tried, I really did. Two experiences with Kyoto and both have left me cold. I just find it hard to make a positive, emotional connection with the place. By and large, I find the people not as warm as Tokyo-ites (with the exception of a handful), the weather always sucky in general (grey, gloomy, cold and wet!) and the bus service really really needs an overhaul! I feel bad complaining about SBS and SMRT when I'm in Kyoto! We really have it much better here at home.

Ah well, just chalk it down to bad luck and no chemistry I guess.

As a footnote, I realised that I had left the Lonely Planet in K's House after all - thank God! Someone found it and returned it to the reception counter. But being happy about the book just made me madder that I had to trudge all the way back to the bridge and back to look for it! Grr...