Kyoto has a very different feel than
Tokyo. The city is much less intimidating. At first this might be
attributed to the extra facility to to the tourist. The
accomodations made for non-Japanese speakers exceed even those in
Tokyo. But beyond this there is a more subtle and human feel to the
city. The pace is slower. Even the commuters in the subway tunnels
take a more ambulatory pace as compared to the go-getters in the big
city. It's a more relaxed feel, and a more comfortable time for the
visitor.
The fashion is also much more diverse.
Where Tokyo was monochromatic and formal, the dress here is casual
with a fuller palette. Kyoto is a popular tourist destination for
Japanese, so perhaps a critical mass of non-residents dilutes the
pressure for suit-and-tie formality, but whatever the cause here you
see jeans and t-shirts and other every-day wear. Kyoto is sort of LA
to Tokyo's New York. Some of the clothes are gaudy by our standards,
and terrifically impractical. But what really grabs our attention as
westerners is the current fashion for the young male hipster. The
cool look is rather effiminate. We don't know if this is a
deliberate androgeny, or just our imposition of American cultural
standards on the local hip look. However, there are several times on
the subway when it's only on second glance that a young rider's
gender could be determined. The rest of the day is filled with
nudges as we play the “classify the teenager” game.
While Tokyo was immediately familiar to
anyone who has been to New York, Kyoto is familiar like Paris or
Vienna. Foreign, but ultimately a city whose history and beauty draw
a large and diverse population of visitors. One hears the constant
babble of languages from around the world and the faces of the city
are more varied than Tokyo.
We spent the last two days walking
through the city, the back alleys, the main shrines, the mobbed
tourist streets, and a completely empty hiking trail through the
woods. The history is all around you, and it provides many chances
for a cup of tea and reverie. But this is also a garden city. The
city is nestled in a valley between rolling mountains that are
covered in forests. Starting this year the city has limited the
heights of buildings and this provides a great backdrop to the main
attractions – the ancient temples, shrines and castles of the
historical imperial capital. The landscape is lush, but the entire
city is planted as well. Every temple or shine, and many houses have
gardens, with trees that reach over the walls. Streets are often
tree lined, and the majority of houses have potted flowers and plants
on their stoop or front window or along the sidewalk. Overall, it
has a very green feel, and really felt in my element.
On our second day in Kyoto we got up
early. This was partly planned, but facilitated by the barking
English of a German speaker. He had evidently left his jacket on his
room's balcony the day before, and was increasingly frustrated that
the desk staff didn't understand what he meant by “outside” so he
just kept saying it louder. Quickly we were off for breakfast,
feeling badly for the abused staff. Then on to our first really
touristy thing of the trip, a guided walking tour. Crossing the
street to the bus station to meet our group, the crosswalk sign plays
a little song. Rather than the beeping that we're starting to
install to help the blind know it is safe to cross, there is a little
electonic tune. It's really quite brilliant when you think about it.
Rather than add to the din with a voice counting down in a language
that is incomprehensible to half of your tourists, you play a little
ditty which equally indicates the time remaining, but in a universal
and more harmonious way. Gotta love Japan. After our rude awakening
this helped restore our “wa”, our harmony.
The walk was great. In five hours we
covered little more than a kilometer. The guide was a 70-somethng
year old Japanese man who calls himself “Johnnie Hillwalker” (but
don't worry, there are no hills on this walk! proclaims the
brochure). This is the hidden Kyoto, and our outstanding guide gives
us history, insights into Shinto and Japanese Bhuddism, a sampling of
local sushi and pastries. Kyoto still maintains a significant
cottage industry. Bhuddist prayer beads are shpped throughout Japan,
but by tradition made only here in Kyoto. Similarly decorative or
ceremonial Japanese fans. Both of these involve multiple steps to
manufacture, and each step is done seperately in the home of a family
that specializes in just that step. For example, the step of glueing
the bamboo to the fans is a different family than those who fold the
multiple pieces of paper just so, leaving the slots for the bamboo.
Nothing is done in a factory. Kyoto is suffering, however, as young
people take jobs in the newer economy rather than taking up the
family business. So many young people have left the pottery, fan,
prayer bead, spirit-house, and Shinto bell businesses that Kyoto is
closing schools. Some Geisha districts are also suffering, as
interest in the traditional means of sponsoring these arts (wealthy
patrons) is fading. Today tourism drives those districts that are
thriving (with heavy subsidies from the city). Increasingly Kyoto is
turning to tourism, but it's leading industry is still nail-making
(like construction nails).
Johnnie's knowledgeable, but also
realistic and a little irreverent. Inside a Shrine, Johnnie explains
the ritual of Shinto prayer. After washing of the hands and mouth,
the penitent approach the front of the shrine. They ring the bell
and clap the hands twice. Shinto gods are ethereal, and may be
anywhere around, not necessarily in the Spirit House nor necessarily
paying any attention to the flock. So the clanging of the bell and
clapping of the hands is meant to draw the divine attention for the
prayer that follows. He prays at each temple we visit, but also
explains that the reason this one with the fox is so well decorated
is that the god with the fox symbol helps improve your income. The
god with the cow symbol, who improves your mind, has a more humble
abode. “99% of Japanese are Shinto, and 99% of Japanese are
Bhuddist”, Johnnie tells us. 'Amida Bhudda promises paradise after
death, no matter what you do in life' so we pray to him from time to
time, but the fox-dude “most popular God in Japan.”
As we walk along the narrow little
roads of the districts of fan makers, and potters we are constantly
dodging roaring motorcycles, or puttering micro-trucks as they zoom
by at terrifying proximity. Ordinarily, I like to walk behind Susan.
She's great at spotting sights, but has a nasty habit of drifting
into traffic. At one point in Kanazawa I wanted to take a picture in
front of where we had dinner. Susan almost put roadkill soup on the
menu when she stepped in front of a truck to pose. Fortunately she's
getting better about the whole cars-drive-on-the-left thing, just in
time for China... where they drive on the right.
The tour ended at 3:00, and having
nothing since breakfast except a piece of sushi and a pastry lunch
was most definitely a requirement. The noodle shop across the street
was packed, with folks spilling out the door and traffic roaring by
it was too much for the hypo-glycemics. We trotted up a road that
looked promising, but with each step uphill Susan's feet dragged more
and more. By the time we found an open shop I was practically
dragging the poor thing. Another two blocks and I probably would've
needed to just throw her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
But we found some curry noodles, and with that and a cup of tea the
crisis was remedied.
The rest of the day was spent in other,
very touristy pursuits, as we temple hopped along Kyoto's most
popular walk. It stretched through a historical district and hugged
the base of the green hills. The temples are set back in the
parkland, and so are provided with beautiful backdrops. They also
command views over the while city. But the real story was the people
watching.
The area was jam packed with Japanese
tourists. Groups of school boys would trudge past, their disinterest
palpable. They would break into a trot and zip by us whenever a
chaperone wasn't looking. The babble of the exquisitely planned
stream was rarely audible over the cacophony of pilgrims and
sightseers jockeying for a position at the best photo spots. After
we meandered through the first temple and garden, we discovered the
object of the student's haste. Kyoto's OTHER cottage industry is
sweets. The main approach to this temple (which we walked in
reverse) is lined wall to wall with purveyors of candy, cream puffs,
ice cream and the like. The street was a mass of people, mostly kids
in their black school uniforms. As we wove our way through the
chaos, we felt it our duty to sample the local culture (yum!).
By the end of our walk we were tired,
and I was nearly hobbled by my ankle, now newly irritated and swolen.
Susan returned the favor of the afternoon taking the initiative for
all decisions and planning until my belly was full again.
The next morning we woke at a reasonble
hour, but were again helped by our fellow hotel guests. Two
Americans were attempting to call their hotel in Tokyo to confirm a
reservation, but apparently didn't have the proper number or know how
to call city to city or whatever. The poor staff were super
courteous, but just didn't understand the broken english of the old
couple from Connecticut. Why people speak worse English when they
are trying to communicate to someone for whom it's a second language
will always be a mystery to me. Susan and I were out of bed,
dressed, and had emailed and written the blog for an hour before
these two got their phone call completed. Abut half of this time
consisted of the woman telling the hotel desk staff that they should
just know all of this stuff, and her husband “this is pointless”
and “I'm so frustrated I'm not capable of being helpful.”
Susan and I remarked about how tough
the job is for the staff. We have found them nothing but nice and
helpful. Proactive, even, with iced tea when we come out of the hot
bath, and offers of umbrellas on the rainy mornings. We're not sure
if they are like this to everybody, or only us because they feel
badly that we are sleeping in the closet.
Oh yeah, about that. So, it's high
season in Kyoto, and we had some trouble finding hotels that weren't
full. Finally, Susan found this place with one room available, “but
it is very small” they told her on the phone. No problem, in Tokyo
I could touch both walls with flat hands, how small could it be?
Actually, not so small. I need to
stretch my fingers to touch the walls! Also, we have two twin-size
futons instead of one double-bed. But technically, it isn't a
“Japanese style” room. There are no tatami mats on the floor –
just hardwood. And it's just off the lobby. And it doesn't really
have a door, or the sliding Shoji style doors, or working heat.
Basically it is just a bg closet, that sort of fit two futons and
table for a TV, so what the hell, they put a works-most-of-the-time
lock on the wood sliding doors (light ones, like you might have on,
say a closet.) Oila! One “Japanese Style” room ($30 per person,
per night, cash only please).
We booked five nights.
So after leaving the brash American
couple to their fate, we decided to brave the local buses and save my
ankle some wear and tear. Should be no problem; we're old pros. We
had to take a local but to get to Lamp No Yado. OK, so the little
brochure from the airport says “local buses, very complicated, take
train”. But we did OK the last time. Specific instructions
helped, as did the precision of the timetable. We got good at
comparing the Kanji symbols. Susan stopped in at the main bus
office, got the map with both Kanji and a rough phonetic spelling in
the western alphabet. The fares in Kyoto are all flat-rate, so at
least we didn't need to read the big matrix. We get on the bus, te
only westerners, and our taking a little pride when the announcement
switches from Japanese to flawless Queen's English. She's kind
enough to both announce our stop and tell us when there are nifty
sites nearby. Oh, and would you like a cookie? OK, just kidding
about that part. But Kyoto has certainly gone out of it's way to
accommodate the western tourist.
We amble along the canal-side
“philosopher's walk”, famous for how the pretty path at the edge
of the park and the city spurs contemplation. Then, into and around
the gardens of a couple of temples. It's a beautiful day, warm and
sunny, a nice contrast after two days of rain. Susan bemoans that
she ddn't bring her flip flops. At a fork in the road the guidepost
sends us right, but the guidebook map offers a left or a right. We
chose the road less travelled. The path leads into the woods, and at
a small gate we decide that the function is not to keep people out,
but wildlife in. ???
Quickly the path becomes a hiking
trail. We're under the trees now, the footing muddy and the way
steep (see good thing you wore your real shoes!). A mostly legible
rusty map verifies the guidebook – take rights at every opportunity
and we will end up at the next temple. The way was a lot like the
woods in Virginia, little more than a soddy rut where many feet have
gone before, with exposed roots and a soft bd under your feet from
decades of fallen leaves. The path was beautiful, but had a hidden
treasure as well; the trees also shelter several small graveyards.
While weathered and old, they were clearly still visited. In several
places we say fresh flowers, bottles of Sake, or nubs of incense
sticks recently burnt. The path climbed high, my ears popped 3 times
on the way, and eventually we were at the top of the ridge. It was
very windy, and the trees were swaying dramatically. The underbrush
was thin, limited by the light, but thrushing musically with the air.
Eventually, (suffficiently eventual that we were staring to get
nervous) the path turned back down the hill and followed a small
stream. The stream fell over a cliff, and suddenly we were looking
down on a small shrine, wooden steps hammered into the muddy slope.
The route now obvious, we came down behind the next temple on the
walk, just as promised, and considered ourselves very lucky. We saw
nobody else along the way, but here in the temple, again, was the
boisterous crowd of high-tourist season.
Oh yeah, a minor incident with a local. It was attributed to cultural differences and we all went out for beers and sake, so no harm:
Dinner, a stroll through the
not-so-impressive Imperial Garden Park, and bed. Tomorrow we are off
to Himeji to see the oldest extant castle in Japan.
