Refuge in the Temple of Heaven

Being on the streets of Beijing can be a very stressful experience. At any given moment there are millions of people rushing around the city trying to get somewhere to do something very important, or so it seems. They push, they shove, they cut in, they ignore signals and generally demonstrate a tunnel-visioned determination to get where they want to go as quick as possible. With the air choked from exhaust fumes, the continual sound of car horns beeping in your ears and an ‘every man for himself’ attitude, it seems that the probability of either being run over or crashed into at some stage would be extremely high. Thankfully there is a place in Beijing where you can find some respite from all of this chaos. There are no cars, trucks, bikes or any other form of life threatening transport. Indeed it’s a place where you can breath a little easier and experience the more sedate side of the Chinese people.

Tiantan Park is an oasis in a sea of humanity, covering some almost 280 hectares of the southern eastern side of Beijing. It is actually larger than the grounds of the Forbidden Palace and remains equally as important due to it being the location of the sacred ‘Temple of Heaven’. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site that has major historical and cultural significance as the place where emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasties would come to worship the God of heaven and pray for good harvest. For Jules and I it would simply be a relaxing escape from the hustle and bustle of downtown Beijing.

It seems that we were not the only ones who felt this way, as Tiantan Park has over the years become a haven for the many senior citizens of the city. As we passed through the gates, it was like stepping into some kind of playground for the elderly. Being mid-week and with the privilege of a free admission pass due to their age, they had gathered in numbers to involve themselves in all manner of recreational activities. We immediately spotted a group of ballroom dancers enjoying an early morning waltz, people playing hacky sack and a gentleman standing with a large brush writing Chinese poems on the pavement with water … it all seemed like so such fun. Jules couldn’t resist joining in with a group of line dancers who were enthusiastically following the moves of an elderly, but fit looking gentleman who elegantly led the way. Of course there were plenty of card players, Chinese chess groups, knitters and musicians who aimed to also exercise their minds as well as the body. With the sun now beginning to shine above the smog haze and with greenery all around, the outlook was considerably different than in the streets beyond the walled park. Here there was a warm sense of community, with friendly interactions of strangers all seeking to improve the quality of their urban lives.

With time pressing, we left the seniors to continue to happily indulge themselves while we made our way toward the ‘Temple of Heaven’ itself. This was quite a walk as there were several significant areas to pass through before reaching the ‘Hall of Prayers for Good Harvest’, which was certainly the most impressive of the temples. We first approached the ‘Circular Mound Alter’; a three level circular platform from which the Emperor would offer sacrifices and prayers for rain and good harvest. The actual place where he would stand is a small circular mound not much larger than a manhole cover and is positioned not surprisingly in the centre of the structure. Its significance became obvious when just about every Chinese visitor wanted to have their photograph taken on that very spot. We opted not to wait our turn but to head over to the ‘Imperial Vault of Heaven’, a single storey circular temple surrounded by a smooth circular wall.  This wall is quite significant as it is also known as ‘The Echo Wall’ and our small group had a some fun sending messages from one side to the other. We also found the circular building quite impressive, but our feelings were quickly overwhelmed when we caught site of its larger scaled cousin in the main courtyard. ‘The Hall of Prayers’ is a beautiful example of early Chinese design and wooden construction. Built entirely without nails, this magnificent triple storey temple sits prominently atop of an equally impressive three leveled marble structure. Flanked by two traditional rectangular halls, it appeared as a picture of order and harmony, which was in stark contrast to much of the high-rise development that we could see just beyond its walls.

Our short visit to the ‘Temple of Heaven’ had provided us with yet another insight into the life and times of the great imperial dynasties. Jules and I had enjoyed the history and the cultural significance of this place, but much like the Emperors of the past, we had also welcomed the solitude it had offered. Tiantan Park had provided us with a temporary haven from the modern world outside and we could well understand why the senior citizens of Beijing had also found it such a pleasant refuge to frequent.

The Changing Face of Beijing

When you visit Beijing you can’t help but notice that it is a city on the move. This cannot only be seen with its increasingly fast paced traffic and numerous multi-level ring roads, but also with its immense urban reconstruction. Building cranes seemed to be everywhere, with an urban overhaul that began in preparation for the 2008 Olympics simply continuing. With a booming economy and a newly discovered capitalist mentality, there appears to be no stopping the city’s headlong charge toward modernization. With many shiny new office towers beginning to dominate the skyline of the business district, it was clear to us that a major transformation had certainly begun. This has already resulted in some brave new architectural forms that seem to be in sharp contrast to the more traditional buildings of old Beijing and the austere party assembly halls of a post-revolutionary era.

Fortunately Jules and I had the opportunity to catch a glimpse at what the old Beijing cityscape must have been like when we visited one of the ‘Hutong districts’ that remained close to the Forbidden City. While many of these traditional low-rise residential areas were bulldozed during the initial rush toward high rise development, we were told by our guide that there were now much greater efforts being made to preserve many of the remaining traditional neighborhoods. Here the courtyard dwellings were extremely small, but there still seemed to be a real sense of local community, with tiny shops and eating places spilling into to the streets. Riding around in a rickshaw through the narrow laneways was certainly in stark contrast to most of the other city areas we had seen and we could not help but wonder whether without such places the identity of the city might be totally lost amidst all of the new development.

To see the latest architectural directions of modern Beijing you needn’t go much further than the CCTV building in the heart of the city. This highly identifiable structure was designed by Rem Koolaas and Ole Scheeren and consists of two slanting towers that are joined by two horizontal sections at the top to create a bold continuous form. It is certainly an adventurous architectural design that in many ways reflects much about the aspirations of the city as it sat on the verge of the 2008 Olympic Games. However, the modernity of this building isn’t quite projected by its nickname… ‘The Giant Underpants’! The name was applied to it by the Beijing people soon after its completion and while competitions have since been held to select a more noble tag, it seems that the mantle has stuck, much to the annoyance of many local officials.

A much more gracious title has been applied to Beijing’s most famous building of the modern era … ‘The Bird’s Nest’. This building, which is now known worldwide, is of course the stadium for the 2008 Olympic games. Designed by leading Chinese artist Ai Weiwei, it remains a wonderful example of post-modernist architecture and has quickly become an icon for the new face of China. While all of the ‘hoopla’ of the games is now over, the stadium and surrounding area remains very popular with locals and tourists alike. When Jules and I visited there was plenty of activity along the main promenade. There were many stall holders selling the usual range of souvenirs and plenty of annoying kite sellers, holding a string of tiny kites trailing into the sky in one hand, while trying to sell you a packaged one with the other. They are a persistent lot and keen to make a buck, although we were reliably informed that despite appearances, if we had bought one it would more than likely fail to fly when we tried it at home. These were of course just minor distractions from the stadium itself, which looked simply stunning as its ‘basket-like’ structure gleamed in the afternoon sun. Alongside the stadium is the National Aquatic Centre, which has also been given its own colloquial name … ‘The Water Cube’. This was of course the venue for all of the swimming and diving competitions during the Olympics and is also a very interesting building, although I suspect that it really comes into its own when it is lit up at night and its bubble like cladding takes on shades of electric blue.

As we looked around at the faces of Chinese tourists, we wondered what they might be thinking about the new Beijing. For many of the elderly visitors who had traveled from remote areas of the country, this was probably their first visit to the nation’s capital and it must have seemed quite an overwhelming experience, as it was for us. The sheer scale of the city, with its many new developments are certainly a  long way from the country’s recent rural past. Certainly the modern architectural changes that have occurred here are the most tangible evidence of its current economic growth and developing status within the global community. While there is still a long way to go and you sense that the city still has many problems to solve, there appears to be no stopping Beijing in writing yet another chapter to its long and colourful history.

Alone on the Great Wall of China

Every so often when you visit places in various parts of the world, you will have one of those ‘pinch me, I must be dreaming moments’. This is that special feeling that every traveler seeks … that moment of realisation when you can’t quite believe where you are and what you are actually doing. It doesn’t happen all of the time and to be honest if you’re a seasoned traveler, it is easy to become a little blasé over many of the amazing cultural or historical sights that you often come across. So it was certainly wonderful to experience that feeling once again when Jules and I were walking the Great Wall of China on a brisk morning in March.

We had been driven 90 minutes from Beijing to the Mutianyu section of the wall which we were told would be far less crowded than those parts closer to the city. The day before there had been quite a heavy downfall of snow that had cleared the air to a degree, while also providing a much more picturesque perspective to the otherwise colourless tones of the winter landscape. While the sun wasn’t quite shining, it was bright and vision was relatively clear as we entered the county of Huairou and as we looked upward, we could see the mountain ridges that connected Juyongguan Pass to the west and Gubeikou to the east.

As we pulled into a relatively empty carpark, it appeared that our early getaway from Beijing may have paid off and even the souvenir stallholders were slightly caught on the hop with the arrival of a small but keen group of early bird visitors. To get to the Great Wall itself we could either hike upward or take the cable car to the ridge. It didn’t take too much convincing for us to opt for the later; we were after all keen to conserve our energies for the wall itself. As we began to move upward in our small gondola, we caught our first sight of The Great Wall with its saw-tooth parapets threading its way across the countryside. It was amazing to think of it stretching almost 9000 kilometres across China from east to west and with a history of over 2000 years, it is not surprising that it is regarded as one of the great wonders of the world.

While millions of tourists visit the wall each year, we were amazed to find that when we stepped from the cable car we were quite alone. Possibly it was the time of the day, the unseasonal cold snap or the congested traffic out of Beijing, but what ever the reason, we just felt privileged to have this 2.5 kilometre section of the wall all to ourselves. With snow on the ground and with the silence of the deserted scene, we were provided with a truly unique outlook of this remarkable structure as it snaked its way off into the distance. While the snow certainly added to the panorama, we began our much-anticipated walk only to discover that it came with its own inherent dangers …ice! It seems that photographs don’t quite convey the rolling nature of the narrow walkways or the steepness of some of its sections. Quite often we found ourselves literally clinging to the wall turrets in fear of sliding down the hill, as we tentatively made our way between the various guardhouses. Nonetheless it was a truly fantastic experience and while the ice limited how far we could travel, we were just happy to be there and to enjoy the experience in relative isolation.

With the best possible views of the nearby countryside, it is not surprising that the wall provided a highly successful form of protection against the marauding nomads from the north. Even if they had survived the exhaustion of climbing the mountains, it would have been almost impossible to penetrate the solid granite blocks used to construct it, not to mention a possible shower of arrows from above. Although many parts of the wall’s structure have been rebuilt over the years, it is remarkable that it has survived war, weather, time and the millions of tourists who continue to tramp over these ancient fortifications each year. While the myth of being the only man made structure visible from space may have been debunked, there is no denying that it is a remarkable testament to human endeavor.

As Jules and I made our way back to the guardhouse where we had first begun, in the distance we could now see large groups of tourists beginning to arrive. We had timed our visit well and with the squeals of an excited group of school students shattering the silence, we knew that our time alone on the wall was over. On descending downward we could see gondolas full of camera clutching tourists heading upward … it seems that there would be no repelling of these invaders today!

Exploring Relics of an Imperial Past

Having traveled around Europe over the years, Jules and I have managed to visit quite a few royal palaces and have often been astounded by the opulence and indulgence of many of these residences. However, it would be fair to say that few would match the sheer scale (720,000 square meters) of the Chinese Imperial Palace of the Ming and Qing dynasties located in the centre of Beijing. Better known to the wider world as ‘The Forbidden City’, this enormous walled enclosure was once the home to Emperors and their entourage between the 15^th and 20^th centuries. As the name suggests, this was once a ‘forbidden’ place, where you could not enter or leave without the Emperor’s permission. However, since the Cultural Revolution, the gates have been thrown open to reveal a glimpse of the ceremonial and domestic life of the countries past imperial leaders.

Walking under the giant portrait of Chairman Mao, through ‘The Gates of Heavenly Peace’, Jules and I joined the hoards of local and overseas tourists in stepping back into a world that had once remained a mystery to all but a few. With the sun shining and fresh snow on the ground following an over night downfall, we passed through the ‘Meridian Gate’ into the first of the outer courtyards to cross one of five beautiful bridges that span the ‘Inner Golden River’. Our guide informed us that the centre bridge was traditionally only ever used by the Emperor … so naturally we took that one!  Passing through the ‘Gate of Supreme Harmony’ we entered the second and largest of the courtyards (30,000 square metres) to see the unusual sight of groups playing in the snow. Such frivolous behavior would never have been tolerated in this most sacred and ceremonial arena during the reign of the great dynasties, but it was good to see it happening now. Avoiding the temptation to join in, we took the stairs leading upward to the ‘Hall of Supreme Harmony’ where officials were met and affairs of state conducted. From here the Emperor would have looked out at his subjects standing in this vast courtyard; it would have certainly have been as magnificent a sight then as it still remains today, despite the ever present crowds of tourists.

As we passed through several other ‘celestial halls’, the crowds eventually began to thin as we entered what was some of the most interesting areas of the palace, the private domestic quarters. Here we learnt about the life of the Emperor, his wives and countless concubines. Indeed, looking around the smaller buildings and courtyards it revealed much about the reality of everyday life within the walled city, as depicted in the brilliant Bernardo Bertolucci movie ‘The Last Emperor’, which was filmed on location here during the 1980’s.  We also learnt much about the Empress Dowager Cixi, (who is infamously referred to as the ‘Dragon Lady’) and her abuse of powers and villainous ways over 47 years, eventually leading to the ultimate downfall of the Qing Dynasty in 1911. Communist propaganda perhaps, but we oddly found her reputation for once having eaten a 150 course meal at a banquet somehow quite impressive!

Having spent a pleasant few hours leisurely wandering around the Forbidden Palace, we eventually exited through the ‘Gate of Military Prowess’. This was a particularly fitting title, as it was exactly what was needed as we ran the gambit of street sellers thrusting souvenirs toward us as we walked along the path surrounding the palace moat. Within just a few paces we could have bought everything from miniature matchstick models to traditional Chinese headpieces, however we thought that a military style retreat might well be the best possible option.

Our next destination would be the Imperial Summer Palace, which turned out to be conveniently close to the Imperial Palace. This meant a very easy commute for both us and for past Emperors, who would have spent a considerable amount of time during the warmer months enjoying the cool breezes from Kunming Lake. Not surprisingly, this is an entirely man-made lake covering 2.2 square kilometres and was used not only for recreation, but also the cultivation of the much-cherished black pearl. The palace is certainly smaller than the Imperial Palace, but no less impressive, with the numerous temples, gardens, pavilions and bridges further highlighting the sophistication of their design skills. Here again stories of the infamous ‘Dragon Lady’ began to emerge, with claims that she embezzled funds to build a magnificent two story marble pavilion in the form of a river boat designed to sit in the shallow waters of the lake and to never leave its shores. Today, visitors flock to have their photograph taken near the famous ‘Marble Boat’. The structure remains testament to the self-indulgent lifestyle of the Dowager Empress and most of the Emperors who had preceded her.

Such Imperial relics are no doubt a constant reminder to the good citizens of China of why the revolution eventually occurred and that it was ultimately necessary. No doubt ‘The Party’ would be quite happy with that particular message. Yet such places also serve to highlight the cultural sophistication of those early times and provide evidence of how the Chinese monarchical system actually rivaled those of Europe. Either which way, we could not help but be impressed by efforts of the government to preserve these great Imperial Palaces and share them with the many visitors to Beijing.

Smog, Snow and Tiananmen Square

As the plane approached Beijing International Airport, Jules and I looked out of the window to view a colourless landscape, dormant from winter and greyed from years of city smog. For weeks beforehand we had been monitoring air quality readings, with Jules even purchasing a packet of Japanese style face-masks just in case! Stepping out of the airport we felt that our apprehension had been somewhat justified as a thick smoggy haze limited our vision to only several hundred metres. I had to smile when the lady who had picked us up from the airport referred to the air pollution as 'fog' rather than the 290+ 'smog' that is commonly believed to be 'extremely hazardous to your health' ... perhaps this was a way of disarming the fears of tourists to China.

During the 45 minute ride to the centre of the city, we began to appreciate the scale of this city of 20 million people, as well as the magnitude of its dramatic transition through socialist reforms to become the economic powerhouse that it is today. Construction was everywhere, with high-rise buildings and multi-lane freeways quickly changing the urban landscape. While the three wheeled pushbikes that deliver people and products throughout Beijing are still evident, you sense that their days are numbered and that they are destined to become relics of the past, overrun by the increasing pace of the city. The car was clearly now the most potent symbol of economic prosperity and damned the environmental consequences! With around 5,000 new cars hitting the streets every day, we could only begin to imagine what Beijing might look like in thirty years time.

That night we anticipated yet another smoggy day ahead; similar to the one that had welcomed us when we arrived. So we were particularly surprised when we opened our hotel curtains to view a most unexpected sight. Despite it being early spring, Beijing had been suddenly hit with an unseasonal blast of winter with around 20 centimetres of snow being dumped on the city overnight. Amazingly the sky was now blue, the air was clear and branches of the trees were laden with snow, giving the city the appearance of some kind of winter wonderland. Quite a transformation from 12 hours earlier! Outside it was a hive of activity with shovel carrying workers clearing paths and roads in preparation for the regular stream of daily commuters.

Our first stop for the day would be to Beijing’s most famous piece of vacant land, Tiananmen Square. This vast 40 hectare public square faces the gates of ‘The Forbidden City’, witnessing many of China’s most historical events and remaining the most significant focal point for the city. Not only overseas tourists visit here, but also millions of Chinese citizens from the outlying regions who at some stage in their lives will make their own pilgrimage. Each tour group is easily identified by their distinctively coloured peaked hats as they are led around the square by their flag carrying guides, whose job it is to remind them of their historical and cultural past. Groups of 50 or more stand in admiration of the ‘Great Hall of the People’ and the ‘Monument to the Peoples Heroes’, visit the National Museum of China and if they are prepared to queue for several hours, they can fleetingly glimpse the body of Chairman Mao in his impressive mausoleum. We were informed by our guide that Mao Zedong still holds a ‘God-like’ status for many older Chinese and certainly his portrait continues to loom large over the square itself, as it has done since the 1950’s.

In more recent years, Tiananmen Square has been the sight of numerous political protests, with both uniformed and undercover police vigilantly patrolling the area. Memories of the pro-democracy protests of 1989 and the ‘Falun Gong self-immolation incident’ still remain strong, with a significant military presence, road barriers and the scanning of bags for those entering the area. Yet once within the square there was clearly a tangible excitement amongst the crowd who were simply happy to be there. By now the snow was beginning to melt, creating large reflective pools of water that further enhanced the impact of the site. The sun, the snow and the blue sky had created a unique set of circumstances that was surely a postcard photographers delight. However, our feelings remained somewhat mixed; impressed by the scale and formality of this historical site, but mindful of the tragedies it had witnessed.

A visit to Tiananmen Square was certainly a fitting way to begin our visit to Beijing, with the fine weather playing its part in providing the best possible outlook to the city. Like most of the tourists visiting from near and far, we posed for the usual tourists shots and took the time to remember its more recent historical events, much of which we had watched on our TV sets in the comfort of our lounge rooms far far away. With the huge portrait of Chairman Mao mounted above ‘The Gates of Heavenly Peace’, it was difficult to forget the events of the Communist Revolution and how it had changed the world! While the quotations from Mao’s ‘Little Red Book’ appear to be increasingly less relevant in todays consumer orientated society, the significance of his role in changing the face of China continues to be celebrated in this, one of the worlds most famous public squares.

Teeing Off in Japan

The Japanese fascination for golf has long been recognized worldwide. I well remember the push in Australia during the 80’s and 90’s to build top class golf courses with the aim of attracting well-heeled golfing tourists from Japan, who at the time were riding high on the wave of a ‘bubble’ economy. While the bubble has now well and truly burst, the country’s passion for golf certainly has not and has continued to develop into a healthy 17 billion dollar a year industry.

Once considered to be a pastime of older businessmen, in more recent years its growth has been largely due to surging interest from the young and in particular women. Inspired by the international success of professionals Ai Miyazato and Ryo Ishikawa, golf is now considered to be somewhat ‘cool’, which has over time forced the golf industry to re-think its economic strategy with the aim of making it more accessible to the youth market. This week I had the opportunity to experience Japans golfing resurgence first hand when I was invited to accompany a group of students to a local golf club to experience, what would be for most, their first taste of the game.

Of course, such a visit to the traditionally exclusive domain of the golf club would require a day of preparation. This would encompass the essentials of golf etiquette as well as basics of the golf swing. Fortunately, developing the perfect stroke is something that can be practiced at one of the many local driving ranges to be found throughout the suburbs. Such places are easily identified by their tall steel pylons that suspend heavy-duty nets aimed at preventing golf balls from pummeling local residents. They are actually pretty ugly structures, but like many other visually jarring features of Japan, they are happily accepted as part of the big city environment. During the day and at night under floodlights, golf balls are continuously fired from these multi-leveled platforms in an attempt to develop the perfect swing.

I can quite understand the appeal of such places, as each ‘station’ is provided with a nice comfortable chair and a fresh piece of evergreen ‘astro-turf’ from which a new golf ball automatically pops up for you to hit into oblivion. With an endless supply of balls and being able to avoid continuously bending down, it is all very agreeable. In fact, with most people deep in silent concentration and just the continuous ‘pinging’ sound of golf balls hitting titanium drivers, it can be downright meditative! Each station is provided with a numbering system to check how many balls you have hit, so after hitting around 250 balls each we all felt suitably prepared to tackle the real thing.

With just a little soreness in our shoulders from the previous day, we set out of Osaka for the two-hour drive to the Lake Forest Resort north east of Nara. Upon our arrival and with the formal welcome over, our clubs were whisked away on a motorised conveyer belt to be loaded onto golf carts ready for our round. As we waited for our tee-off time, there was an opportunity to admire the course layout and to be honest, I was initially surprised with what I saw! While the putting greens and fairways were immaculate, the rough appeared be tinderbox dry (much like you would see during an Australian summer) despite being the middle of winter. However as I learnt, this is quite common throughout the country, as here they prefer to use a strain of grass that goes dormant in winter and remains lush and green in summer. Despite its apparent dryness, it was still a picturesque sight, set against a rugged mountain range, featuring water features and the type of selectively positioned boulders that you might see in a traditional Japanese garden. The course appeared to be very large and this was confirmed when I picked up my scorecard. Instead of the usual 18 holes, there were actually 27, consisting of three 9-hole courses. This was a very sensible idea, as regular players could easily mix and match whatever combination they preferred to make up their 18 holes.

Although the sun was shining, icy winds had begun to drift across from the nearby mountains by the time we were called over to begin. With all players being required to drive golf carts around the course, the scene around the tee itself was reminiscent of a Formula-One pit stop, with a uniformed team of attendants loading and unloading clubs with the speed of a race day fuel and tyre change. As we headed along the neatly paved roadway to the first tee, it soon became obvious why carts were an absolute necessity. With the steep slopes, the course appeared physically demanding for both experienced and novice players. Indeed, despite the increasing numbers of younger people who appear to be taking up the game, it is clear that the vast majority of mid week players were still retirees and older businessmen for which driving around a course like this was clearly the only option.

As anticipated, the fairways and greens were beautifully maintained, yet there still remained plenty of bunkers, water hazards and deep mountain gullies to swallow up any wayward shots … there were plenty of those! By the end of the round, the cold conditions and demanding layout had certainly provided us all with a tough challenge and we were more than happy to eventually drive our carts back to the pits. Here our clubs were again quickly whisked away to be cleaned and secured in a locker in preparation for our departure. It was all very efficient, but no more than I have come to expect while living in this country. While I have played golf over many years, my first experience in this country was certainly quite unique. Hopefully the students that we introduced to the game had also thought the same, as I’m sure they will be more than welcomed into the sub-culture that is 'Japanese golf'!

Drifting into Zen Meditation in Kyoto

After the first hectic weeks of the new year it was great to just spend a day wandering around the nearby city of Kyoto. Here Jules had discovered what she considered to be a sure fire way in which we could both (particularly me) spend some time in a more relaxed state. No … it wasn’t visiting one of the many local bars, although that would be nice too, but rather one of the local temples where we would be introduced to the traditional practice of Zen Meditation!

To be honest, I had always considered myself to be somewhat of a lost cause when it comes to any form of meditation. There were always far too many arbitrary thoughts rushing through my head, while it has to be said that it takes all of my patience to sit still quietly and do nothing for any length of time. However, I was more than prepared to give it a try once again, if only for the experience of visiting one of the many beautiful Buddhist temples in Kyoto.

Myoshinji is a large temple complex in northwest Kyoto and consists of around 50 traditional buildings that date back to the early 1300’s. At its peak the area included around 200 structures and while it might have slightly diminished in scale over the years, it still remains a major centre for Zen Buddhism in Japan. So if we were at all serious about learning the art of meditation, this would be literally the font of all knowledge on such matters. Shunkō-in temple is in fact the largest of the Rinzai Zen Buddhism schools and this magnificent sixteenth century temple would be the ideal setting to experience what Zen meditation had to offer.

Upon entering the temple, we were warmly welcomed by Rev.Taka, one of the senior priests who sat us down on pillows in a long and thankfully warm tatami room. It was after all the middle of winter, a factor that might have limited our class to a small group of seven. While we all sat in the cross-legged position (or lotus position for the more flexible), he began to enlighten us about the basic philosophies and elements of Zen meditation. He spoke about the essential need to live for the moment and to perceive that moment exactly as it is, rather than through the filter of our ideas and opinions … easier said than done I thought, but I guess that this after all is the ideal situation. He continued to calmly reassure us that if we were able to experience everything from moment to moment, then our outlook would become clear and enlightened. By adopting meditation and allowing us the time to simply sit in total silence, devoid of sensory distractions, it would act as ‘a daily vitamin pill toward spiritual peace’. Of course he provided much more detail than that and as we sat in the tranquil setting of the temple with bright sunlight streaming in through the foliage of a beautifully manicured Japanese garden, it all sounded very clear and logical.

We would begin our session by meditating for approximately fifteen minutes. I say ‘approximately’, as the time is traditionally determined by the burning time of a stick of Japanese incense. Jules and I had often wondered why the incense we had bought here seemed to burn down so quickly and apparently each stick is the ideal amount of time for meditation. Although in referring to this, Rev.Taka joked that these days you can actually download an ‘App’ for your iphone that performs the same task … say it isn’t so! On a more philosophical note, he went on to dispell the popular myth that meditation involved totally clearing your mind of all thought … this was quite a relief for me! I’m sure that this difficult and often impossible concept had turned many people away from the practice of meditation over the years. He went on to suggest that thoughts would indeed drift in and out of our minds and that this was quite natural and to be expected.

Following the ‘dong’ of a bell and with the ‘clack’ of two sticks of wood being slapped together, we closed our eyes and began our meditation. The room was now silent apart from the flickering of the gas heater and the occasional call of a bird outside. The sheer size of the temple complex prevented even the slightest traffic noise from drifting in. There we were, sitting silently in a room, just as others had done over the centuries, simply experiencing the moment. As anticipated, thoughts began to drift in and out and we began to notice our feet slowly turning numb and an increasing strain on our backs. However, the time passed quite quickly and with the sound of the ‘dong’ and ‘clack’ again, we were summoned to open our eyes and have a stretch. We all seemed a little dozy, as if we had returned from a far away journey and in a way we probably had. After a little more discussion, it was time to meditate once again … it was all very relaxing.

After it was all over, Rev. Taka proudly showed us around his temple, which is surrounded by what was called the ‘Garden of Boulders’, complete with a neatly raked sea of pebbles. This was accessed through a series of sliding doors that were also close to the more decorative gold panels inside which were painted by master artist Eigaku Kanō. As we sat down to drink warm green tea in a sunlit room that faced a lovely internal courtyard, we reflected upon the serenity of Zen Buddhism. The seemingly humble life of a Buddhist priest appeared to have some merit, as did the power of meditation. While I still don’t know whether we are total converts yet, there is certainly something to be said for taking a little time out to just sit, drift and live in the moment.

The Timeless Appeal of the Kimono

As the end of the Japanese school year draws to a close, naturally the discussion of my senior students has been about what they might wear to their graduation. It seems that most of the girls will opt for contemporary formal fashions, while a certain percentage will wear the traditional Kimono. You might consider this quite surprising, as this centuries-old Japanese garment might, by western standards, be regarded as somewhat 'old fashioned' and could be disregarded by the younger generation…not so!

In fact the main reason many of the other students would not be wearing a Kimono to such an occasion was that they had chosen to wait until they had turned the significant age of twenty. Quizzing them a little more, I discovered that this much anticipated birthday would mark their ‘coming of age’ and arrival into adulthood. Such an important family occasion would be marked by the presentation of a new Kimono to be worn for the first time on ‘Coming of Age Day’ (January 14), a National holiday and a day of ceremony and festivities in honor of young people who turn 20 between April 2 the previous year and April 1 of the current year. They went on to tell me that while most had previously experienced wearing a Kimono at some stage, stepping out on this important occasion would require an especially elaborate (and expensive) hand-made Kimono befitting their newly acquired status in Japanese society (they were now able to vote and drink alcohol) and therefore the wearing of this garment would certainly be worth the wait.

The ‘Coming of Age’ Kimono’s for young women (known as a Furisode) are particularly beautiful, being brightly coloured and made of the finest quality silk. The sleeves are very long (almost reaching the floor) and the ankle length dress is elaborately decorated with floral patterns that represent the blossoming of youth. Each year there are new patterns or accessories introduced, adding a certain fashion element to the multitude of Kimono styles available. This year however, there was an element of controversy in Tokyo regarding a new emerging trend of wearing the garment open necked and even off the shoulder. This is known as the ‘Oiran’ style and is based upon the form of Kimono worn by high-class courtesans of the Edo Period (even the more radical Kimono fashions apparently have a history). The style, although particularly popular with this years crop of young women, was frowned upon by many of the older generation who regarded the look as far too daring a departure from tradition and simply inappropriate.

Controversy aside, the Kimono appears to remain as popular as ever and apparently many young women will accumulate several forms over the years, which will be worn for a range of occasions. For less formal wear, a more conservative lightweight style (yukata) might be adopted, often mirroring the colours and patterns of the seasons in which they are worn. While for the more significant of life’s events, elaborate styles are adopted. For example, upon a proposal of marriage many parents will buy their daughters a Kimono called the ‘Houmongi’. This dress effectively replaces the more youthful ‘Furisode’ and while still being very elegant, is generally more subdued in its colours and with shorter sleeves. This is a Kimono of the mature woman and one that will continue to be worn on special occasions over the years ahead.

Like many aspects of Japanese society, the Kimono remains steeped in traditions and ceremony and as Jules and I were reliably informed from the experiences of our Mt. Fuji tour guide, it is not uncommon for many young women to attend Kimono classes (sometimes lasting up to two years) to learn how to dress themselves and wear the Kimono appropriately. My students tell me that this vital knowledge is normally passed on from mother (or grandmother) to daughter, but it has been known for women who are less knowledgeable about such matters, to hire an expert to assist them in putting on their Kimono and helping to tie the ‘Obi’ (the distinctive waist band that can be up to 30cm in width on formal styles). With the various layers and ties, the whole exercise can take more than an hour! The girls in my class reliably inform me that the garment itself is quite tight and heavy, hence the need for tiny delicate steps.

It is somewhat reassuring that in the fast paced world of modern Japan, many of the features of traditional dressing are still appreciated by the younger generation. There still remains a genuine interest and pride in the wearing of the Kimono, with its various nuances and as a distinctly cultural fashion statement. While it is clearly no longer a garment for daily use (the practicalities of twenty-first century living prevents that), it still continues to be a popular form of clothing for many occasions. Judging by the attitudes of the young and the respect they appear to have for its traditions, not to mention the importance they place on fashion generally, it is safe to say that the future of the Kimono appears to be secure. It certainly remains a timeless garment that still has an important place in Japanese society. Indeed for us, the sight of a stylish Kimono being worn around town still immediately captures our attention and after all, isn’t that exactly what fashion is all about!

Note: The artistic photo above was supplied by my friend and teaching colleague Derek. To view more of his wonderful photographs of Japan look here

Living in the Land of Cute!

A little while ago I was asked to draw some illustrations for a children's book that might be later adapted for a series for publications aimed at the Japanese market. During preliminary discussions, the matter of ‘style’ was discussed and in particular the need for the images to have that one essential element that will ensure popular success in Japan … ‘the cute factor’! This is apparently that intangible ingredient that is sprinkled over much of the commercial world, providing a particular visual aesthetic that instantly appeals to the Japanese public. They even have their own term for it … ‘Kawaii’, which refers to anything that is loveable, adorable or cute and can be widely associated with not only products or graphics, but with all manner of popular culture.

The driving force behind this influential phenomenon appears to have been young Japanese women, who began to change their sense of fashion having been influenced by the physical appearance of popular female manga comic book and anime characters. In the later years of the twentieth century, there was a deliberate effort to show more skin, exaggerate the length and colour of their hair and wear the tallest platform shoes they could find. Having a rounded child-like face became a highly desirable physical feature, while bold eye shadow further enhanced the ‘doe-eyed’ look. Over the years, ‘cute-couture’ was developed to complement the overall image and in doing so further establish a distinctly youthful trend that continues to defy the test of time. These days, such fashion statements remain as popular as ever and continue to broaden their appeal through mainstream fashion stores. This has resulted in a degree of frustration for Jules who can’t quite see herself wearing this sort of attire, even if it is somewhat toned down for the wider market. However, for the hard-core devotees of ‘Kawaii fashion’ there remains many specialist stores in downtown Osaka for young Japanese girls prepared to devote a sizable slice of their income to dress like human anima characters. In fact, one of the most popular singing stars in Japan, Hatsune Miku is not human at all, but actually an animated 3D hologram whose concerts are regularly sold out and her continued success further perpetuates the youth orientated fashion trend. Likewise, another pop sensation AKB48 has similarly provided a role model for millions of young Japanese girls. The group consists of around 90 female members (currently the largest pop group in the world) and has made a fine art of ‘sexing-up’ the cute aesthetic. Not surprising that they have also attracted a large male following who seem to adore the innocence and helplessness of these nubile young things.

Over the years the whole ‘cute’ phenomenon has morphed into a wide range of lucrative commercial enterprises and has become influential enough to become accepted as a recognizable aspect of the modern Japanese identity. Kawaii imagery can now be seen on all manner of graphics and merchandise; with the success of ‘Pokemon’ and ‘Hello Kitty’ spawning a myriad of little characters eager to entice you to part with your money in the cutest possibly way. Walking around town, we are constantly bumping into costumed characters or oversized blow-up figures designed to attract our attention and inevitably lower our consumer defences. The most popular of these characters have developed their own sub-culture making their merchandise particularly collectable, with their recognizable imagery even spilling over into their own television shows. They can be seen on t-shirts, bags, shoes, mugs, pencil cases, key rings, bento boxes and the dangly ornaments that hang from mobile phones. What is amazing however is that in Japan, these characters don’t just relate to children, but seem to be appreciated and enjoyed by all age groups, making them particularly potent commercial symbols.

While there doesn’t seem to be any signs of 'cute-worship' abating in the short term, it does at times seem to be at saturation point. Yet it remains an increasingly popular aspect of Japanese culture, reinforced by the power of the internet and global commercial expansion. I watched a news report recently that discussed the growth of ‘Kawaii tourism’ and the desire of visitors to experience the cute factor first hand. In a world that is so often tainted by hatred, violence and the seedier side of life, there are certainly worst phenomenon’s that can emerge from a modern day society. While at times there may be some serious undertones, on the surface it all remains bright and innocent. However, I sense that the ‘land of cute’ may be somewhat of an illusion that merely provides a pleasant form of escapism from the rigidity and more serious aspects of Japanese urban life. Yet it’s wide acceptance and tolerance of the more eccentric aspect of the craze suggests much about the sense of fun that so often lies just below its more austere cultural facade.

A Quick Taste of Yokohama and Beyond

It’s always a bit of a buzz hopping on the Shinkansen (bullet train) from Osaka to Tokyo. It’s just the perfect distance and time (around two and a quarter hours) to sit and relax, read a book, write a blog or to simply watch the passing countryside. Of course passing Mt. Fuji along the way is always a treat and despite the winter season, it again looked perfect this time around. We were heading to the Japanese capital for a conference and after it was all over, Jules had planned to surprise me with a quick over night trip to neighboring Yokohama. Of course I was totally unaware of all this and after traveling on the subway for around forty minutes that evening, I was quite astounded when she announced that we had actually arrived at this alternate destination. There was I thinking that we were still in the suburbs of Tokyo, which is probably a pretty good indication of the sprawling nature of the city and my sketchy knowledge of the train systems.

Jules had chosen a nice spot in the historic waterfront area of Kannai, overlooking Yamashita Park and Tokyo Bay beyond. As one of the busiest ports in Japan, it appeared to be a hub of activity and so it was not at all surprising that the tallest inland lighthouse in the world (Yokohama Marine Tower) could be found right next-door. That evening the air was crisp and the sky was clear as we enjoyed a leisurely walk along the waterfront heading toward ‘bills’ restaurant for a meal with an Australian connection. Celebrity chef Bill Granger has launched several restaurants in Japan over the last few years and as Jules is somewhat of a fan of his cooking, she had made it her mission to try each one. I had begun to suspect that was part of the initial motivation for the visit to Yokohama, when the next day we found ourselves in yet another of Bills restaurants for lunch in the nearby seaside town of Shichirigahama. Not that I was complaining, particularly as this wouldn’t be the first time that food had provided the motivation for our various travel destinations. (see Jules blog).

The next morning, we stepped out into another gloriously sunny day and were provided with a perfect view of the harbor and the Yokohama city skyline. This is an attractive, modern looking city that appears much more contained than its population of 3.7 million (the second largest in Japan) might suggest. It’s growth has been rapid due to flourishing trade with China over the years and has in turn resulted in the emergence of quite a large Chinese community. This also particularly sparked the interest of Jules culinary side and she was keen to make a short to visit Yokohama Chinatown as it is regarded as one of the largest in the world, with over 250 shops spreading over several city blocks.

With time pressing, we eventually hopped back on the train bound for the popular tourist destination of Kamakura, a place known for it’s great Zen Temples of Japan and numerous Shinto shrines. However, what Jules and I had particularly come to see was the iconic Amida Buddha at Kōtoku-in. This large and impressive statue has become recognized throughout the world as one of the defining images of ancient Japanese religious culture. While it originally sat in a wooden temple over 1,200 years ago, it now provides a much more majestic sight in the open air, against the backdrop of a tree covered hillside. The original temple was apparently destroyed many centuries ago, but the garden setting appeared to us to be far more appropriate. The gold leaf had disappeared long ago from the surface of the great Buddha and the 44 foot bronze statue had become nicely weathered over time forming a beautiful green patina. As we circled around this amazing work of art, we were both impressed by its proportions and the craftsmanship of its symmetrical form. For the small cost of 20 yen (around AU20 cents) Jules even chose to investigate the interior structure. Despite the esteem of the sculpture, there were relatively few people at the site, which made it quite a tranquil experience and one we agreed was well worth the 30-minute walk from the town.

Later that day we found ourselves back in the busy streets of Kamakura. Being Saturday afternoon and a perfect sunny day, the tourists were out in force visiting its various cultural sights. However with just a little time before our departing train, we decided to take a stroll down nearby Komachi Dori. This is a narrow and bustling shopping street that sells all manner of traditional Japanese food and products, which is always interesting to us westerners. After an unexpected visit to the local Modern Art Museum, we headed back in the direction of the railway station down a tree-lined street with hundreds of hanging lanterns. This added to the quaintness of the old town and we could imagine how nice it would look in the evenings.

We were soon back on board our train and heading back to Yokohama to connect with the Shinkansen for the run back to Osaka. It had been a whirlwind visit, but one we had both thoroughly enjoyed. As we nibbled on the delights of delicately prepared sushi from our bento box, there was nothing else to do but simply sit back and relax as the 250km per hour super train whizzed us home.

A Sweet Slice of Adelaide

While visiting Adelaide for Christmas, we again resumed the hunt for the world’s best Vanilla Slice. Regular readers would be well aware that this has been an ongoing fixation that spans many years and has seen Jules and I searching out bakeries from all over the world in order to find the definitive version of this classic custard cake. (check out my earlier blog)

Australia in particular continues to hold this creamy delicacy in very high regard and across this vast land, competitions are regularly held in order find the country’s best. In my hometown of Adelaide, there are many bakeries that proudly boast of their awards, while others simply rely upon word of mouth to claim that their version of the humble Vanilla Slice is simply the best.

With some bakeries closed over the Christmas/New Year period, it was difficult to sample all of the highly rated slices, but we made an effort to search out a number of the better local slices for a comparative taste test. Using our usual criteria of appearance, custard quality, icing and overall taste, we set about selecting five of the best versions of this iconic dessert.

1. Dulwich Bakery, Dulwich – This remains a perennial favorite. Plain and simple with both topnotch custard and icing which simply can’t be beaten. This slice remains as one of our top six in the world!

2. Orange Spot Bakery, Glenelg – While the custard is not quite as creamy as the Dulwich variety, this slice rates very highly and would just about nudge its way into the all time top six based upon its all round perfection.

3. Brumby’s Bakery, Richmond – A genuinely traditional slice that has its own distinctive custard flavor. The overall presentation and its consistency across all of our major criteria place it on the highly recommended list.

4. Price’s Bakery, Hillcrest – This is another good example of the traditional ‘snot block’ with particularly good icing. If the custard was just a little creamier it may move up the rankings.

5. St Georges Bakery, Kensington – A slice with a delicious custard that stands high and proud. The only disappointing aspect of this slice was the frosted icing which lacked the flavor of the traditional sticky variety.

While South Australia has many attractions and remains world renowned for its wine and seafood, if you ever visit you might also like to try some of our favorite local bakeries to sample the great Aussie Vanilla Slice. In the meanwhile we will continue to search far and wide in the hope of one day stumbling upon the definitive version, so if you have any particular recommendations don’t hesitate to comment.

Christmas at ‘The Bay’

Christmas in Australia is very different than in most parts of the world and while it carries with it much of the same snowy imagery, the hot weather ensures that it is generally celebrated outdoors. Each year the Christmas Day news service broadcasts the usual stock standard story about tourists from the northern hemisphere spending their festive day at the beach. This is usually accompanied by footage of bikini clad ‘Brits’ wearing Santa hats and holding a glass of champagne in one hand and turkey drumstick in the other. The truth is that I can never actually remember having Christmas lunch at the beach (far too much sand for us), but like many other Aussies, we would eventually be drawn to the ocean in the days following Christmas to enjoy the relaxed seaside atmosphere or more likely to seek the cool ocean breeze as respite from the heat of the day.

The most popular of the coastal spots in South Australia is Glenelg, which is simply referred to by locals as the ‘The Bay’. The name harks back its original title of ‘Holdfast Bay’, which was given by the pioneer settlers in 1836 and although it was re-named shortly afterwards, the tag has stuck and the area itself has continued to develop into the premier beachside suburb of Adelaide. As Christmas coincides with the proclamation of the colony, Glenelg has become the place where thousands converge each year to enjoy the celebrations and in particular to witness an event called ‘The Bay Sheffield’. This two-day gathering remains the state’s most prestigious running meet, which has been held annually in the basin shaped park of Colley Reserve since 1887. While Jules and I have lived in Adelaide for most of our lives, I am embarrassed to say that we have never actually attended, however this year during our visit back home, we thought that it was about time we rectified that situation.

Still slightly bloated from consecutive days of eating ham and turkey sandwiches, we were keen to enjoy a casual stroll along Jetty Road, the main shopping strip of Glenelg. This is where the expansion of the popular suburb began many years ago, with some lovely Victorian and Art Deco buildings still remaining and of course the familiar sight of the tram rolling back and forth from the centre of downtown Adelaide. As we walked, we reminisced about memories of the area; the old cinemas that lined the street, the many restaurants that have come and gone and the old trams fondly referred to as ‘red rattlers’. These days the area has expanded in all directions, but particularly along the coast and toward the picturesque marina that now boasts some of the most expensive houses in the state. Seaside pines and palm trees provided much sought after shade as the sun shined brightly and the temperature continued to rise. It was time to get a tub of frozen yogurt (the trendy alternative to ice cream) and head down to Colley Reserve.

Being the final day of the event, the carnival was now in full swing with most of the events being run and won, however it would be past 6.00pm by the time the male athletes would take to the track for the main 120 metre race that the carnival was named after …‘The Bay Sheffield’. By this stage the mounds that surrounded the track were full, held back by only a small, dainty white picket fence. It has always been a free event, so as the major race drew closer, people arrive from all directions. The lovely thing about this race is that you can still get relatively close to the runners, much like a good old-fashioned country carnival. While there is some prize money involved these days, the event harks back to the old days of amateurism, allowing virtually anyone to enter as it provides a handicap system in order to make each race competitive. Yet in the end the cream always rises to the top and the finalists are inevitably the best runners from throughout Australia.

After much fanfare, it is not too long before the runners have each donned their coloured vest and are poised on the starters blocks ready for the gun. Ahead of them are roped laneways, similar to those seen in the film ‘Chariots of Fire’ that depicts the events of 1924 Olympics. This is not by any stretch the Olympics, but for local prestige it is just as important. As I looked around the ground, I realized that there are not too many places in the world were this type of carnival would ever happen, let alone just a few days after Christmas … it was truly unique! I’m was however quickly startled from my daydream by the bang of the starters gun and look to see the athletes rocketing off down the track. In a blink it is all over, with the runner wearing red lying on the ground totally exhausted, but with his arms clearly raised in victory. Former Olympic runner Josh Ross was the only runner to begin the race from ‘scratch’ (the full 120 metres) and while other runners had several metres head start, he had managed to lunge over the line to create local history, as the only non-handicapped runner to win the race in 126 years.

It may have been our first Bay Sheffield, but we had chosen a good one with glorious weather, a festive crowd and an historic victory. I guess these are the sorts of events that we have tended to take for granted over the years, while tourists continue to travel half way around the world for such experiences. However, this year we appreciated it just that little bit more, having left the wintery conditions of Japan just a few days before Christmas. So as the sun continued to blaze on this glorious December day at 'The Bay', there was nothing left to do than to head home for a quiet beer and yet another turkey sandwich!

On the Slow Train to Nikko

If you ever look at tourist brochures or coffee table books about Japan, chances are that you have seen images of Nikko. Second to Mt.Fuji, it must be one of the most photographed areas of Japan, as it provides the setting for one of the country’s most significant shrines and some of its most scenic mountain ranges, forming the Nikko National Park. Not surprisingly it has developed into a very popular attraction for both local and overseas visitors, who flock there throughout the year and in particular during the all important seasonal changes. Such was the case at the peak of Autumn; with the leaves in full colour, we decided to take the 140km journey north of Tokyo to visit this popular attraction. Although we knew it would be packed with tourists, we were determined to see it.

For such a trip, most foreigners tend to book a coach tour, but we decided that we would travel the way that most Japanese tend to get there … by rail. Since we have been in Japan, Jules has become so proficient in her mastery of what must be the world’s complicated rail system that these days I just sit back and relax in the knowledge that she will always get us there. So early on a bright and sunny Sunday morning, I blindly followed her to Asukusa station to board what we knew would be a long slow trip to Nikko … around two and a half hours. Not that we particularly minded as we much prefer traveling by rail than road, plus there was the added bonus of being able to see the tallest tower in the world, the ‘Tokyo Skytree’, which looms close by. We had been reliably told that this marvel of engineering stands twice as tall as the Eiffel Tower and while providing a great view of the city, also acts as a giant aerial for broadcasters, whose signals have been increasingly blocked by the plethora of high-rise buildings.

As we headed out of Tokyo and its suburbs, we looked back to see Mt. Fuji majestically rising from the distant horizon. This was the cloudless, sky blue day we had hoped for when we had visited the day before and we were grateful to have such good weather to see Nikko in all its glory. By mid-way through the trip we were also thankful we actually had a seat, as the train was becoming increasingly crowded, which was exacerbated even further when several carriages were removed from our convoy making the last leg of the journey quite a squeeze. Yet with the usual Japanese efficiency we eventually rolled into Nikko right on time and by that stage were more than happy to stretch our legs over the two kilometre walk that would take us to its most famous shrine.

Toshogu Shrine (dedicated to the Tokugawa shogunate) is possibly the most lavishly decorated mausoleum in all of Japan. It is set at the foot of the mountains amongst a forest of giant Cedar and Cyprus trees with each structure adorned with wonderfully opulent carvings that date back to the 15th century. However it’s most famous carving surrounds the eaves of one it’s smaller and less grand 17th century buildings and depicts ‘The Three Wise Monkeys’ whose moral ‘see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’ has become universally recognised. This whimsical carving also has personal significance to Jules who recounts that as a child, the saying was regularly bandied around the dinner table as the ultimate ode to live by. Years later the saying still rings in her ears! Of course she had to join the many other tourists to have her photograph taken below the famous carving for old times sake, although she sensibly resisted recreating one of the famous gestures as many just had to do … groups of three were particularly popular!

We continued to wander around the grounds to study the detail of the architecture, admire colourful leaves and to generally soak up the atmosphere of this UNESCO World Heritage site. However, tourism and the commercial aspects of Nikko has to a certain extent taken its toll over the years. The highly photographed sacred Shinkyo Bridge was not quite what we expected. Images of the elegant red lacquered arched bridge that spans the Daiya River can be seen on a myriad of postcards, but what they conveniently fail to show is the traffic filled road complete with traffic lights that infringes right along side … an unfortunate sign of the times! Likewise, the ticket booth where you can pay 300 yen to walk to the end of the 28 metre long dead-end bridge is, not surprisingly, also out of shot.

While there were many more temples and natural attractions to be seen further a field, we had seen what we had come to see within the precinct of the town and by three o’clock were quite happy to board the slow train for the trip back to Tokyo. Following Jules’ impeccable knowledge of train timetables we managed to get on board at just the right time to secure seats once again. It seemed that many of the same crowd we had previously arrived with were also heading back, so it wasn’t too long before the carriage was again full to capacity. As we slowly pulled away from the platform, the excitement of the passengers who had frantically made the last minute sprint in order to squeeze on board began to subside and everyone settled in for the long ride ahead. It would be well after dark when we arrived back to the bright lights of bustling Tokyo and at that point, Nikko seemed like a million miles away … not exactly, but it was quite a journey!

Pilgrimage to Mt. Fuji

There is something about standing in the shadows of a great mountain that reminds you just how small we humans are in nature’s grand scheme. This is certainly the case when you visit Mt. Fuji, Japans most revered natural attraction and certainly one of world’s most beautiful mountain images. Rising majestically from the relatively flat surrounding landscape, it forms an almost perfect symmetrical shape that looks much the same as the way a child might simplistically draw a mountain on a distant horizon. Its even, conical appearance can be explained by the fact that Mt. Fuji is actually a volcano (last erupting in the early 1700’s) resulting in its flattened peak that indicates the crater below. Being Japans highest mountain (12,388 ft.), it remains largely snowcapped for most of the year and set against a clear blue sky, it provides the iconic image that tourists from far and wide come to see.

Such was the case when Jules and I boarded one of three buses leaving Tokyo in the early hours of the morning bound for the area referred to as ‘The Three Holy Mountains’ (Mount Fuji, Mount Tate and Mount Haku). It was believed that the top of Mt Fuji is where Buddha once resided and the climb to the summit (known as ‘Zenjo’) still remains a long-standing tradition of followers during the summer months. The closest that Jules and I had come to the sacred mountain previously was seeing it as a distant blur from the porthole windows of the high speed Shinkansen bullet train. This time we were making our own pilgrimage from Osaka to view it at close range. Like most of the other tourists on the bus, we had been magnetically drawn to it, much like the Richard Dreyfuss character in the movie ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’ … not knowing quite the reason why or what we might experience when we got there … it was just something that had to be done!

Our day-trip around the mountain involved several hours of travel broken up with various stops where we could view the iconic peak from different vantage points. There could only be one factor that would spoil the whole experience and that was the unpredictable nature of the weather! It had rained all of the previous day and the skies were again very gloomy (not totally surprising for late November in Japan). Fine weather would be critical to our viewing pleasure, although all pre-booked tours continue to run despite impending weather. On a particularly bad day, visitors have been known to miss seeing Mt. Fuji altogether, even though it may only be a few hundred metres in front of them.

Our guide for the trip was a softly spoken young lady called Yoko, who seemed quite proud of sharing the same name as the other more famous Yoko who was married to John Lennon. As we left Tokyo, Yoko began providing us with a wealth of useful information about Japanese culture in between making regular phone calls to check the all important weather forecast and its effect on what level of the mountain we might be able to reach. She explained that level 10 was the summit, which could only be reached by foot at certain times of the year (certainly not this time of the year), while level 5 was the highest level able to be reached by road. Although Yoko was initially hopeful that we might actually make it mid-way up the mountain, she soon informed us that the previous days rain had turned the roads into sheets of ice and the highest point we could possibly reach would be level one … pretty much the base of the mountain! While a small collective sigh of disappointment was heard throughout the bus, it was tempered by the sight of distant sunlight beginning to break through the clouds for the first time in days revealing a lovely blue sky, ensuring a that we would be able to see Mt. Fuji clearly.

As we headed down the highway, we were relieved to see the great mountain emerging through the wispy clouds, looking much as depicted in many traditional Japanese artworks. It is claimed that on a clear day Mt. Fuji can be seen from up to 100 kilometers away; today we were just happy to see it at all! As we headed toward the tourist centre to take our first photos, we were slightly distracted by the inexplicable sight of an amusement park (complete with giant rollercoaster) that appeared totally out of place for the location. This was yet another example of the type of contradictions that Jules and I often see in Japan, which we have now managed to train ourselves to ignore by selectively framing its more beautiful sights. Such was the case as we glanced toward Mt Fuji only a few kilometers away.The sun had almost totally broken through, reflecting light off the snow on its gentle slopes. With a lone cloud lingering over the peak of the summit, the mountain took on an ancient and almost mystical quality.

Not wasting the opportune break in the weather, we quickly boarded the bus for the short ride to the base of the mountain only to find, as Yoko had predicted, the road barriers were indeed in place and we could travel no further. Surrounded by other tourists also stopped in their tracks, we could do nothing else but collectively stare upward; the small crowd dwarfed by its overwhelming scale. The sun was still shining, but alas not for too much longer and we could see clouds quickly beginning to engulf the giant mountain once again.

As we headed away, we had the interesting experience of passing over a series of man made corrugations carved into the road that, when combined with the friction of rubber tyres, remarkably caused a musical tune to vibrate throughout the cabin of the bus ... quite strange! Yoko explained that the tune was a popular children’s song that celebrated Mt. Fuji as ‘the number one mountain in Japan’. There was certainly no doubting that and despite the fickle nature of the weather, we had both been glad to have made the pilgrimage to witness its grandeur first hand. We were reminded that with all good pilgrimages, it’s always as much about the journey as the arrival!

The Curious Statues of Arashiyama

With the autumn leaf season upon us again (October/November), Jules and I decided to head to the nearby town of Arashiyama to enjoy the colour and festivities that usually surround major seasonal changes in Japan. In fact it’s a very popular little town all year round in any case, as the scenic mountains and fast flowing river attracts regular visitors keen to enjoy the combination of scenic beauty, temples, quaint shops and eating establishments. While traditional flat bottomed boats regularly transport tourists from the up stream town of Kameoka  to Arashiyama itself, a fleet of energetic rickshaw drivers run couples to the various attractions in and around the town. Being just a short train ride from Osaka and even closer for the residents of Kyoto, it remains one of the most visited areas in the Kansai region. There was certainly plenty of evidence of that on the day we were there, with thousands descending on the little town for a pleasant family day.

 In the centre of Arashiyama is the world heritage listed Tenryuji Temple that dates back to 1300 AD and is regarded as one of the great examples of Zen architecture in the Kyoto area. It is also surrounded by a magnificent bamboo grove where you can follow a winding path and be dwarfed by beautiful towering lengths of bamboo plants that stretch high into the sky as to almost block it out. This walk alone attracts thousands of visitors to the temple grounds, yet for us it was only a slight diversion from the real reason we were visiting Arashiyama.

On one of her many internet searches into the Kansai region, Jules had read about a lesser known temple with a particularly unique feature that had sparked her curiosity. The Otagi Nenbutsu-ji temple is very small and sits at the northern outskirts of town, at the edge of the nearby mountain range. It is a little further to walk to than most of Arashiyama’s temples, which makes it far less visited and often quieter than the towns larger and better known Buddhist attractions. However, what makes this temple unique is the garden that surrounds it, which is filled with over 1200 stone statues of disciples of Buddha. This might sound all very solemn and serious, but these are possibly the most whimsical statues that you are ever likely to see in a Buddhist temple anywhere. While the original temple dates back to the thirteenth century, the carved figures where added relatively recently, in the 1980’s. Not that you would be aware of that from their immediate appearance. They look much older, weathered from seasonal rains as well as the moss and lichen giving them an increased sense of age and in some cases, an almost unrecognizable quality. Closer inspection however, began to reveal some of the more interesting and endearing features of these figures, which were lovingly carved by local amateurs. There are some wonderful facial expressions that reveal the distinctly individual nature of each piece. Each has its own unique pose; some in peaceful contemplation, some in small joyous groups and some even involved with contemporary pursuits like photography, tennis, boxing and playing guitar. We even spotted one listening to a walkman! We found that the charming nature of these carvings were far less ‘stony-faced’ than western styled religious iconography and they seemed to say much about the warmth and optimistic nature of Buddhist faith.

As you can imagine, we ended up spending quite some time wandering around the various levels of the gardens trying to determine the story behind each little character. Like the other visitors there on the day, Jules’ just couldn’t resist photographing as may of them as possible as they stood nestled in their natural setting as colourful autumn leaves fell all around.

The Mystique of the Geisha

One of the iconic images that can be seen on tourist brochures about Japan is that of the Geisha. These young girls dressed in elaborate kimono, with heavy traditional make-up and sculptured black hair adorned with hanging decorations, appear to represent everything that is traditional in this country. While the image is very familiar, their role in modern Japanese society still remains somewhat of a mystery and to a certain degree an intriguing curiosity to visitors.

While the Geisha community is quite small in Osaka, a quick train ride to Kyoto has often led us to several districts in which they can be seen at various times. Certainly Kyoto is quite unique in this regard and is the place where many of the apprentice Geisha (referred to as ‘Maiko’) learn the art of becoming a traditional hostess. This may involve learning Japanese arts such as dance and music as well as important communication and hospitality skills for their generally male guests. In fact the word Geisha actually means ‘person of the arts’, which suggests something very different to the misguided western notion of their role and the salubrious comforts they may provide. Indeed it is the exclusivity of their establishments and the long-standing trust between their clients that has over time enhanced the mystery that surrounds this small and unique cultural society.

When Jules and I have been walking through the historical Gion district of Kyoto, we have often seen pairs of Geisha (more likely Maiko) walking the laneways between buildings. Well, ‘teetering’ might be a better term, as they are often wearing very tall, steeply angled wooden shoes (called okobo), which combined with the heavily layered kimono, ensure that only tiny steps are possible. They are always immaculately dressed in their brightly coloured kimono’s with ghostly white make-up that covers the entire face except for a perfectly chiseled W shaped area at the back of the neck (regarded as one of the most sensual areas of Japanese beauty). In stepping out into the streets, they inevitably attract a crowd and quickly the cameras are out for those lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. They are of course well aware of the attention they attract and are generally very obliging in stopping to pose for the occasional photo before shuffling off to their destination.

The random nature of their appearance ensures that at most times they are able to go about their business relatively easily, however this is not always the case as Jules found out during a recent visit to Kyoto. It had been announced locally that a small number of Geisha would make an appearance to commemorate the local poet and playwright Isamu Yoshii, so Jules thought that she would investigate. What she found was the sort of paparazzi mayhem that might otherwise be reserved for the arrival of celebrities and movie stars. Such was the appeal of the Geishas that amateur and professional photographers alike could be seen clambering for position, some even bringing step-ladders to see over the anticipated crowds. The ceremony quickly dissolved into camera flashing chaos and the Geishas hastily retreated back to their establishment. With attention like this, it is not surprising that young girls are still attracted to the life of a Geisha. For the Japanese, they are still regarded as national treasures who provide a tangible link to the simple and elegant traditions of their past. For visitors like ourselves, they remain an exotic enigma that symbolizes much of the charm, beauty and mystery of this ancient culture.