I passed by this in my library a thousand times, not thinking much of it. I showed it to my mother and it was one of the few she was exuberant about. What do you think?
Svetlana declared at some point in our planning that we must do a day trip out of Tokyo to the town of Nikko. By this point in our research I was already overwhelmed with the logistics of getting to and from the island of Shikoku and what we should even do while there. I didn't question it, nor did I bother asking why; She was excited by idea and it was one less thing for me to plan. Yay division of labor! This meant I knew nothing about the town, other than the vague knowledge that a famous samurai was buried there.
We got up early. Nikko is 2 hours away by train and has three huge temples to explore. We also needed to activate our JR Passes at the train station before we could use them. This proved to be our only significant interaction with Japan's famous bureaucracy, though it was enough of an experience to understand why it is a tentpole of Japanese comedy. Long story short: we missed our first train attempting to activate our JR Passes. This meant our well planned and seamless rail-transfer halfway through our journey was totally shot, adding an hour wait at some random station. But no matter! We wouldn’t let this dampen our spirits. (I should note this is also one of the very few times we didn’t have serendipitous-levels of luck with travel and transportation.)
After grabbing breakfast at the ubiquitous 7-11 (man do I miss those) we camped out on our boarding platform and were soon on our way.
The train was packed and we spent the first hour standing in the entry between the bathrooms and exits. I unabashedly recorded video of the passing country-side, ignoring the odd glances of the salaryman I stepped around to film. The time flew by like the scenery. After our brief stopover at our connecting station, including our first experience with vending machine ice cream (read: tasty!), we hoped our second train and found ourselves in Nikko by early afternoon.
We grabbed a quick lunch at a tourist trap. My katsu-don (bread and egg battered pork cutlet, deep fried over rice) was solid, but everyone else had less luck. Svetlana tried soba (cold buckwheat noodles with a dipping broth) for the first time and found it...lacking. Rachel had the same, and provided a less forgiving review. But enough of the delays, we were in Nikko! There are shrines to explore!
It was already mid-afternoon by this point, we abandoned our plan to see all three temples and instead focused on the most impressive Tosho-gu shrine, that of the famous samurai. We hopped on the stuffed and stuffy bus and rode it the few miles up the steep roads toward the temple.
The trees blew me away. Pine giants, they towered like sentinels over the gravel path, casting down needles that blanketed the ground. I distinctly remember staring slack jawed as we walked toward the temple. As we neared the end of the path, a pagoda came into view behind the trees. It was massive, standing as tall (or taller?) than the pines around it. Just between us, I may have started freaking out. I started snapping photos, hoping to get some juxtaposition between these incredible trees and this gorgeous vermillion tower.
It was at this point my camera died. *Sigh*
Lesson learned: charge the camera every night.
Evan and I had a philosophical discussion on the merits of observing with your own eyes, rather than attempting to experiencing everything behind the lens of a camera. He has a point; I hate those ass-hats that insist on filming an entire concert on their phone, instead of actually experiencing the concert. (put your fucking iphone DOWN) On the other hand, this is kinda my jam, and now my toast was totally butter down on the floor.
Ultimately I stole Svetlana’s phone (I wasn’t bothering to carry mine) and made do with the technology at my disposal.
Moss covered every stone surface as if it was some sort of fuzzy layer of grandeur.. One lantern practically screamed “Tell me you’re not impressed,I’m old as fuck. ” Every building was painted in ornate designs of flowers and animals: gold leaf and gilded accents over a the vermillion base. There were giant bells for tolling, a monstrous chandelier, stables for blessed horses, and huge ornate statues of gods that looked ready to burst from their station at the temple gates to terrorize the country side. This shrine was cranked up to eleven.
After spending over an hour marveling at the incredible work and splendor that went into this shrine, I had to know more about the guy buried here.
“Evan, this is amazing and ridiculous, just how famous was this friggen samurai that he got warranted this?”
Evan laughed.
“Dude, this isn’t just a famous samurai, this is the famous samurai. This is the shrine for Tokugowa; Tokugowa I-united-all-of-japan-under-one-ruler Ieyasu. He is The Man.”
F***. Now I really wish I had charged my camera.
So yeah, I spent all afternoon wandering around the shrine built to celebrate and immortalize the most important leader of all Japan. No big deal.
There was so much to see. At one point we removed our shoes and queued up at the end of a long line that wrapped around one of the main buildings. After some time we were crammed into a small shrine where a priest spoke at great length about the history and design of the temple's room. Of course, this was entirely in Japanese and completely lost to Svetlana and I. Fortunately Rachel and Evan whispered when they could to fill us in. The ceiling was painted with a thousand dragons, each one unique in design. Then we were blessed. There are many blessings to be hand in Japan.
We got to visit Tokogowa’s grave, at the top of an impressive stone staircase winding between the giant trees. It was fun watching fashionable young ladies in ill-suited footwear and dresses attempt to scale the steep, mossy stairs. Power too them though, I would have fallen and died.
We also saw the only cherry blossoms still in left blooming in Southern Japan, and scored the obligatory snap.
After a solid day’s wandering we found ourselves partially up a quiet trail, The clouds forming overhead as the sun made it’s way beyond the mountains. We paused briefly to pray to a sleepy Jizo, then made our way back down to the road and souvenir shops. It was around this point that the rain came down. We marched downhill, ducking under awnings, trees and shop doorways. We purchased some fun trinkets and walked the few miles down the mountain to the train, sprinting between overhangs, clutching beers and discussing dinner plans. We watched the sunset in the rain, and caught a train back to the City.
Shrines are fucking EVERYWHERE in this country. I'm not exaggerating when I say that; Kyoto has something like 1000 in the city alone. It is bonkers. People created shrines for all sorts of things: shrines to important deities or spirits, to Hindu gods, to Buddha or Bodhisattvas, to badass shoguns or dead emperors, even ancestral family members. Everybody's got a shrine (and many have a more than one!) In fact, a big part of the Shinto religion (the only indigenous religion of the Japanese People) was worshiping the gods and wonders of nature. Evan made a joke about this at a temple, saying that back in the day if they thought it was impressive, it was probably a god. Then they would tie a huge woven rope around the object and adorn it with paper seals. In my head it went something like this:
Shinto Priest Hitori, walking through the woods: Dude, that is one big-ass rock, it's gotta be like, 6 or 7 feet across.
Shinto Priest Yume: Indeed, that thing looks like it weighs a ton. I doubt we could even move it!
Hitori: Yeah man, I bet it's like, sacred or something.
Yume: Really? You think so?
Hitori: Hell yes! Just look at how BIG it is. Here, I don't even think I could climb it.
*Hitori scrambles partially up the rock, but falls down
Hitori: Yeah, definitely sacred. We gotta go get a rope to throw around this thing. And get some of those cool dangly papers too.
Yume: Alright, but I'm not carrying the rope back out there, I had to lug the last rope to that tree with the funny branch that was also probably a god.
Hitori: Ok fine. Man, wait until the other priests get a look at this big rock. Remind me to get a donation bucket so people can pay tribute to the rock.
As far as I can tell, you visit a shrine for one of two reasons: to pray to the god/spirit/deity to help you with something, or to take a selfie while doing the peace sign. Usually both. I expect most of you are familiar with the selfie taking process, instead I'll tell you about proper prayer technique.
Step 01: Approach shrine. This frequently involves climbing a small set of steps and ends with you standing on the shrine's “porch.” You almost never go into the shrine itself.
Step 02: Admire the shrine. Meticulously arranged flowers, incense, statues and tiny lacquer furniture. Someone awesome must be dead here.
Step 03 AKA “The shakedown:” Deities don't work for free, and neither do the temple priests. Throw a coin into the collection box. The box will have a slatted top made out of wood or metal, and two overlapping slopped boards beneath. This allows the coins to slide down without you seeing just how much money this temple is raking in to help you pass your exams. Be sure to appreciate the extremely satisfying sound of the coin bouncing over the slats and clunking into the bottom of the box.
Step 04: If it's a buddhist shrine, bow deeply twice. If it's a shinto shrine, see below.
Step 05: Clap your hands twice, wait about a beat between claps.
Step 06: Think hard about your prayer or wish. Channel that shit.
Step 07: Bow once more and walk away. If you are a lapsed Catholic, you may find yourself instinctively making the sign of the cross as you walk away. Hope nobody notices.
Step 08: On the way out of the temple grounds, notice the pair of BMWs or Mercedes parked outside the temple living quarters. Realize that it's all a very lucrative racket for the little old Japanese men in robes and eye them suspicious admiration. They've got it figured out.
Shinto shrines are a little different. You can recognize a shinto shrine by the large rope that hangs near the donation box. The rope is connected to a metal gong or bell. Ring the bell after donating, but do not clap hands. You may also bow, but I never figured out how many times or in what order.
Our second day finds us in Nikko, home of some very interesting monkeys, a dead guy with an impressive resume and shrine, my first Japanese microbrew, and a storm
One of the things I appreciate most about Japan is the cultural love of the ritual. Everything it seems has some sort of procedure or process, crafted carefully over hundreds of years (or in some cases, very recently) that is meant to invoke something, pay homage to something, purify something, or to keep your dirty mouths away from everyone else's food. Some make you stop and reflect, while others are a way to show a person you are their friend. Hell, I still get a kick out of the rituals even if some are complete bullshit. Did you know that the Sumo salt-throwing purification process was added in the early 1900's in an effort to make the event “More Japanese?” Apparently the Sumo world was worried about Baseball's incredible newfound popularity at the time. But I still think it's awesome. Here is one of my favorites.
WATER PURIFICATION
The situation: You are a gross, disgusting human that wants to pay your respects to the local shrine.
Origin: Shinto, most likely
Dude, you totally want to go pray to that Goddess of earthly beauty to help your boobs get bigger, but you are just covered in grime after rubbing up against a bunch of people on the subway. You gotta get purified first!
Step 01: Locate the Temizuya, a water basin with running water and a number of ladles made out of bamboo/wood/metal. These basins may be simple stone with a bamboo spout, or a total badass bronze fox firing a jet of water out of its mouth.
Step 02: With your right hand, dip the ladle into the water and pour some of the water over your left hand. Do NOT do this over the basin itself, otherwise you'll get your nasty all in the pure water and a little old lady will yell at Svetlana. >_>
Step 03: Move the ladle to your left hand, and pour some water onto your right hand. Boom, pure hands!
Step 04: Bring the ladle back to your right hand. Briefly consider how much easier this would be if you weren't also holding a soda and juggling a camera over a basin of water.
Step 05: Make a cup with your left hand and pour some more water into that hand. Use your new hand-cup (TM) to rinse your mouth. Don't drink this unless you are really thirsty and nobody is looking. Now that filthy mouth you use to talk to your mother is pure and ready for some breast-enhancement prayers.
Step 06: Take what remaining water is in the ladle and turn the ladle vertically so the water drips down the handle of the ladle. You've touched a sacred lady with your nasty hands, and now that needs purification too.
Step 07: Put the lady cup down back on the basin. Repeat these steps at every friggen shrine you come across.
This is currently my favorite ritual. It is simple to do and easy to learn, you get to play with water for a minute (who doesn't love that?) Afterward your hands are clean(er) which is nice considering the STUNNING lack of soap in most public bathrooms. And you've possibly cooled off after walking across a huge expanse of blazing-hot white pebbles under a noonday sun.
Woke up around 5 AM, realized this was a terrible thing, and fell back asleep. Woke up again around 7:30 and figured I'd be pressing my luck to get any more sleep, considering I passed out around 10:30 the night before. One day in, jet lag is my bitch.
(flash forward: I've woken up at 5 and then again around 7:30 almost every day I've been here, upside is that we've been getting a lot done)
Everyone is slow to move but excited to get going. Rachel and Evan had a whole day planned out for us. Svet and I, still recovering from nearly 24 straight hours of nonsense, are happy to have someone else make the plans. We stroll down their picturesque little neighborhood (seriously, it is EVERYTHING I imagined a sleepy city block to be, pictures can't capture it) hop on a bus full of little old ladies, and head toward the Senso-Ji shrine.
But first things first, we need some breakfast! And what better place to grab a bite to eat than a...7-11???
Seriously?
Yes, Seriously. Any sane American regards the prepared food section of a 7-11 as a dangerous game of chance. At best, the food is crappy, stale, flavorless and nasty; at worst, you are looking at a day spent in the proximity of your bathroom door. E-Coli roulette.
But in Japan, it is delicious! Do you want Meat buns? Curry chicken? Chilled Soba? Katsu? A full friggen bento box with sushi? Go nuts! They even have an entire wall of onigiri (seaweed wrapped rice balls) stuffed with a dozen different fillings. And all of these items generally cost less than a king-sized candy bar. And if you are the kind of person that's into those canned/bottled coffee drinks, Japan would be your heaven.
We scarf our respective bites and kick off to a Shoutengai. This one was a bit more rustic than the one we saw the night before, more Faneuil Hall than Times Square. This opened up to the Senso-ji Shrine which was gearing up for Golden Week. It was packed with tourists and school groups. Festival/Street food vendors were everywhere, and it smelled amazing. The shrine itself was impressive and imposing. Every shrine kinda has their thing that they are known for (biggest Buddha, lots of archways, never burned down, on a big hill, etc.) and Senso-ji is the “Oldest in Tokyo.” Rachel and Evan taught us the proper technique for water purification, and Svetlana was chastised by some old-lady for doing it wrong. Whoops.
Inside the temple we payed 100 yen to receive our fortunes. Basically you shake a metal box until a chopstick falls out. On the chopstick is a number, which corresponds to a drawer, containing a parchment with your fortune. I received good luck (a Giguere first?!) and Svetlana had bad luck. In theory, you can tie your bad fortune to the shrine and leave it behind, but I insisted we keep it 'cause it was funny to read.
After the temple we took a train to Ueno park. The park has a shrine in the middle of a pond, and during the spring the pond is covered with flowering lotuses. Unfortunately the lotus had already come and gone, but the walk through the park was still very lovely. We ate from some food stalls, Svetlana and I split a grilled squid (yes, seafood from a street cart is a totally not-insane thing to do in Japan. Imagine that outside Park St. Station.) and it was delightful. We decided to forgo the nearby museums and instead take a stroll through one of Rachel's favorite sites in the city: the Ueno Graveyard.
Japanese burial sites seem to have entire families enshrined in one small area or pavilion (if you're rich), and like Spanish or Russian culture, it is important for living relatives to keep a gravesite tidy. People will sweep a site and leave flowers, snacks, fruit and bottles of sake for the dead to munch on in the afterlife. It was a welcome change of pace from all the craziness of the shrines and park, and the setting sun made for some nice photographs.
We returned to the apartment, freshened up, then struck out again that even for a dinner reservation at Rachel and Evan's favorite Yakitori restaurant. Yakitori is grilled skewers, and good heavens is it delicious. I haven't taken many food porn photos, mostly because tear into stuff before it crosses my mind, but I'll be making a gallery specific to the items I have managed to photograph.
After a lovely dinner, we went back to the apartment. Despite my bravado and desire to explore at night, I made the mistake of sitting down at the apartment and immediately fell asleep. Alcohol and a long day makes futons very dangerous. It was probably 9:00 PM.
Currently I am sitting on the roof of a hostel in Osaka, legitimately drunk, watching the blinking red airplane warning lights atop the skyscrapers around me.