Kyoto is my friend

No, I didn't take the base two-day special tour of Kyoto. I went alone. After Christmas, before New Years. Four days and five nights. Since a boy I had wanted to go to Kyoto. I was born in Japan, Tokyo. When I was a senior in high school my family went for Christmas to Tokyo, but didn't make it to Kyoto, after a bizarre mixup in the Tokyo train station. My parents had been to Kyoto about the time I was born. (I was being born in Tokyo meanwhile they were in Kyoto living it up!) Kyoto was maybe the city in the world I most wanted to go to. I didn't go to find God or a woman. But I did feel at home. By the time I'd been there one evening I felt as if it were my old neighborhood, and I'd lived there all my life. I had almost feared Kyoto. Out in Japan on my own. And people write about it with awe. It has such a fearsome reputation of being inaccessible - you can live there all your life and not be brought into its inner sanctums. Well I didn't go to be accepted into inner sanctums. In my planning I read up on the place and it was immediately clear I should stay and focus on the Eastern Mountains (Higashiyama) area - that is, east Kyoto, east of the river Kamagamo. I would miss several major sites, such as the Golden Pavilion and Fushimi Inari shrine, where the paths of toriis wend up into the mountains. Yet I would have a doable trip - in a concentrated area. The area is actually called Higashiyama, Eastern Mountains. You might call them hills if you live in Colorado. I did my usual thing and walked everywhere. I walked from my house to the local train station, caught the local, $10 to Hiroshima, took the shin, or bullet train, to Kyoto. Lots of tunnels, not so famous regional cities, then we passed Osaka and from there there were continuous buildings the relatively short distance to Kyoto. The whole trip took a couple of hours. Kyoto lies between mountains, in the vee of a plain. The train station is trè modern, and the main city ditto. Amusing interlude trying to find an American ATM (can't use American bank cards in Japanese ATM). In vain. Walked from the train station to my inn, 45 minutes. Walking is the best way to see the city. I had booked a room in an old inn found in the tour guides, $50 a night, right smack in the middle of Higashiyama. It was down an alley off quaint streets paved with stone steps. I managed to get lost and walked all the way up and down hills to the great shrine, Kiyomizu, asked directions, and walked on to my destination. I found the place from its Chinese characters - it was called Kiyomizu Sanso - and I knew the characters for mizu (water) and san (three). Alley! It was actually a walkway cut through the ancient shop buildings into an inner courtyard, a veritable maze of dwellings. There the innkeeper, a woman my age, met me, and took me to my room, upstairs, a tatami room, only a low table, and futons and bedding which you pulled from the closet yourself. I had windows looking out both ways, front and back, onto mazes of courtyards and buildings. I went right back out and walked all over the area, into the lanes and alleys which various writers have described as the most beautiful in the world - hidden, backstreet Kyoto. I had studied the maps beforehand, and penciled them onto a cheap little map. By the time I was done five days later, I had walked those streets over and over and over. This was truly my neighborhood. The streets wind and they are lined with quaint shops selling one type of merchandise, often made locally. I walked many famous alleys. The area is hilly, and some streets are stone steps. At the end of one street will be a major shrine or temple. Turn a corner and face a five story pagoda. It's a charmed region of the world. But as I say, it felt so comfortable, and it's definitely human scale. I had wanted to eat some of the great Kyoto food, the kaiseki, but it was said to cost several hundred dollars a meal. I never did manage to spend more than $40 on any meal, and most meals cost me about $10. I discovered that first night that my neighborhood rolled up the sidewalks by dark. The restaurants closed at 5:30, and the shops at 6. Of course it was cold, being midwinter. Most of the shops were open air, and chilly. That first night I hesitated and hesitated on account of cost and finally went in to a famous restaurant called Aunbo - A being the first sound a baby makes, and Un being the sound after you die. I was the only customer. I sat at a long country while the renowned chef hovered and fussed over me - and me alone. I ordered what the guide book suggested I order, having no idea what it was. I still don't know what it was. The chef asked me, do you have any allergies. Then proceeded to serve me dish after dish, course after course. And why wasn't I worried about price? Because I discovered that Kyoto takes Visa! But in the end my bill was about $40. After that I had gotten the kaiseki out of my system. I don't think I had really had a full kaiseki meal, nor did I need one.

And so to bed. But not before taking my turn in the huge bath in the basement. We all used the same hot water. Of course you soap and rinse beforehand. And soaked. Then climbed the stairs up two flights to my room. The stairs were so steep and so narrow that I walked up and down them facing the stairs as if on a ship. There were only four rooms in the entire inn, run by the one woman all by herself. We got into conversation over the next few days. That night I did not make the acquaintance of my mouse friend.

The next day I had a very definite itinerary. Breakfast in my room, very Japanese, $5 (¥500). My plan for the first two days was to start in southern Higashiyama and walk north, taking in some of the major temples and shrines. There are too many to take in all of them. There are 1600 shrines and temples in Kytoto. Best pick and choose. Last two days, we'd see. So that first morning I walked south to Sanjusangen-do. On the way stopped inside a garage-bamboo workshop and bought a gourd made into a vase from the artisan. Sanjusangen-do is a very old Buddhist temple, basically a very long rectangle of a hall, not heated at all, and in it standing in a phalanx are ranks of Buddhist deities and demons, with a main one in the middle. Alone these deities's prayers are enough to save mankind. And womankind. I had read of a famous fountain supposed to provide longevity. There it was! With long-stemmed bamboo ladles to scoop up some water. So I had some. Then I saw among the many Japanese signs one in English: the water is not potable. Then north to Kiyomizu-dera, the shrine in the hills, with the no stage whose front drops several hundred feet into a valley. From this vantage point Kyoto is merely a distance vista of buildings like a dream or an illusion, and all around is greenery, and yet Kiyomizu is in the city! And in the back, several smaller shrines, including Jishu-jinja, where there are two stones maybe fifty feet apart, and you are supposed to test your love for someone by walking with your eyes shut from one to the other. If you don't arrive at the farther stone you are supposed to find somebody else. But what the tour books didn't say was that the "other" person would walk with the beloved and guide them to the proper spot. And I thought, well, that's how love should be, the lover guiding you in the right direction. Let us hope that it is not down a primrose path. And then below, another fountain, this was probably the one I had read about, with queues of Japanese to drink it. I stood in line and just as my turn came to use a long ladle, an older Japanese man ran up from the wrong way and got in front of me and had some - Japanese are all very polite, except when they aren't - usually some old curmudgeon, male generally, but females can be impolite, too. Like all other peoples, I suppose, but here the contrast is more glaring. And so again north, past my neighborhood. And let me say something of it. Among the winding streets descending from Kiyomizu are two streets, one called Sannen-zaka, the other Ninen-zaka, Three year steps and Two year steps, and if you stumble on these steps, that's how many years bad luck you'll have. I can report I walked these steps many times and never stumbled. Halfway down from Sannen-zaka, Ninen-zaka intersects at a right turn and descends. Just before the intersection was where my inn was located.

And so north, to neighborhood temples, Kodai-ji, where I sat in evening sun and enjoyed the beautiful sand garden, with two cones of sand amidst waves of gray sand, the low sun playing across the ripples. And I wondered what Freud would make of this garden. I went to other temples, and made the first of many traverses of Maruyama-koen, the park in my neighborhood where the famous weeping cherry is thronged during cherry blossom season. Returning, I shopped. And just so fast my day was used up.

The first evening I had a geisha sighting. I saw her in one of the alleys, and she stopped, and posed, simpering, or was it a smirk? for my benefit. I bowed, and she did not. She knew who was the royalty. They wander these alleys on their way to assignations from their native Gion, a few streets to the northwest, also east of the river in Higashiyama. Then there were several geishas, also some women dressed as geishas carried about in glamorous gleaming black rickshas by young men. You could tell which were not geishas - no greasepaint, no carriage.

Americans - Kyoto is an international city, and west of the river I saw many, many Americans, not to mention Europeans of various languages, some of which I did not recognize, meaning they came from eastern Europe. East of the river the Europeans and some Americans concentrated in Gion. I saw relatively few in my neighborhood or even on the various treks I undertook in Higashiyama. Which low incidence pleased me.

That night I first met my mouse friend. He / she lives in the walls of my room in the inn. We swiftly arrived at a quid pro quo. I would not seek him or report him, and he would not come into the room. It seemed to be the food that aggravated him. He smelled breakfast the next morning (so I fear) and mewed his hunger at me. Sorry, we agreed you would not come into the room. But…

Day two it rained all day and was chilly. I decided to strike fast and far first-thing to the north to the Silver Pavilion. Up through Maruyama Park, to the east, where halfway up I picked up the Philosopher's Path, a path along a creek in neighborhoods, ending at the very entrance to Ginkaku-ji, the Temple of the Silver Pavilion, which did not impress. First, it's not silver, though I knew that. It was just a small park in mountains, pretty gardens, lovely thin waterfall coming down the steep slope, teahouses, the pavilion itself, read: small house. Nice enough, good excuse to get out early of a miserable cold rainy morning. Back I came through town by a different route, getting lost - theory of getting lost: it can be very productive and should be used regularly but not abused - ending up amidst the dreary cold wet institutional buildings of Kyoto University. Theory of walking about in rainy days: you have the place to yourself, and indeed I saw holiday crowds regularly only in certain sections of my walkabouts; furthermore, I had rain gear. Shortcomings of rain gear - total protection of lightweight Gortex rain gear failed at wrists and from the waist down where jeans proved not as impervious to rain and soaked boots led to blisters - which would cramp my walking style the last two days. Leading to purchase of gortex rain pants. Part of my sojourn that day was across this mountain - Yoshida shrine. I left the Silver Pavilion and walked west along a boulevard, then took the turnoff to the shrine. Up it went across a mountain. You see, eastern Kyoto is a wild and woolly place, part city, part hills. There was nothing up that mountain but path and rain. I walked and walked. I came to intersections with four different ways to go, all the signs in Japanese. I walked on. Using instinct, I came finally to the southern exit, and there indeed were the vermillion toriis of shrines. Nary a person of any religion did I see up to that point. Exiting in what I knew immediately was Kyoto University, because of the dreary, institutional buildings. Walked and walked, and finally: Heian Jingu - gaudy Meiji Restoration shrine dedicated to proving that Kyoto was still a wonderful place even if no longer the capital, darn that Edo. Brilliant vermillion Chinesy buildings. I visited the Kyoto crafts center, a multi-story building with bus access, to bring all the unsuspecting tourists to. I wandered floor by floor. I was buying Christmas gifts for my family, which, having partly grown up in the Far East, would know a hawk from a handsaw, so I decided to buy only local, Kyoto crafts. Turned out I couldn't find a single Kyoto craft in the Kyoto craft center. This was made there, and that here, in Japan, surely, everywhere but Kyoto. Ha ha, good joke. I ended up buying a pretty lacquer jewelry box with cherry petals on the top. At least it wasn't made in China. And so south, through several other temples, which all start looking the same after a while: beware of temple fatigue. I did start skirting Gion, walking through its Yasada shrine, and I even walked a ways down crowded-with-tourists Shijo-dori, near the river. Here there were shops frequented by geisha, which I had targeted for certain purchases. Hmmm, that sentence can be read in various ways. And, feet blistered, yes, reader, I stopped at Starbucks on Shijo-dori and had a venti mocha, midst Japanese and Europeans. I estimated I walked 20-25 kilometers that day. Along Shijo-dori and its shops and sidestreets, in Gion, multitudes of Japanese and Europeans and occasional Americans. Here was tourist Kyoto. Just southeast was my neighborhood, and I headed home, past Yasada shrine, past the 7-11, up the windy roads, smack dab into Yasada pagoda, around to Ninen-zaka. Boy was I hungry. I had read of yuu-dofu, the zen vegetarian cuisine that arose around zen temples. A famous restaurant had opened a second shop just near my inn. I found the place - remember they all close at 5:30 yes that's afternoon. I got there about 4, too late for the "set", and ordered just plain old yuu-dofu. It's just dofu, or as Americans say, tofu (the mispronunciation comes from Wade-Giles romanization of D as T, at least in Chinese). My home town in Japan is the same sound, Yuu, though maybe different kanji. Actually, I never saw the cuisine written in anything but hiragana, where yu looks like a pretty fish. It's just blocks of soft dofu, simmered in a crock of water atop a burner on your table, with garnishes of shredded scallion, ginger, and the like, and dipped in the most wonderful soy-based sauce. I think I never ate a more hearty, nourishing meal. Of course this was the culmination of a day spent walking in the chilly rain, an experience which must heighten the heartiness of any hearty meal. But my was it delicious! And afterwards I thought I could walk on air, I felt so rejuvenated. And then I walked and walked in my neighborhood, full of charm and shopping. And went home, and soaked, and communed with my mouse friend, and so to bed.