When people think of historic Japan, they usually think of Kyoto--and for good reason. Kyoto was one of the primary pre-Tokyo capital of Japan (the kanji for Kyoto (京都) means "capital city". The kanji for Tokyo (東京) means "eastern capital") and it was capital during a time of religious power in Japan. As a matter of fact, Tokyo didn't even become the capital until 1869. Surprising? It certainly was for me.
The whole area around Kyoto is jam-packed with temples and shrines that may have been rebuilt since their original conception but still hold onto the beauty and mystery that makes them real. During WWII, Kyoto was the only major city in Japan that didn't get destroyed in the fire bombings, allegedly because the US Secretary of War had taken his honeymoon in Kyoto and couldn't bear the thought of so much history being burned to the ground. Thank God for that, because Kyoto really is something special that deserves to be around for many many generations to come.
For your reading pleasure, here is a brief introduction to the three major temples and shrines I visited during my recent trip to Kyoto.
The whole area around Kyoto is jam-packed with temples and shrines that may have been rebuilt since their original conception but still hold onto the beauty and mystery that makes them real. During WWII, Kyoto was the only major city in Japan that didn't get destroyed in the fire bombings, allegedly because the US Secretary of War had taken his honeymoon in Kyoto and couldn't bear the thought of so much history being burned to the ground. Thank God for that, because Kyoto really is something special that deserves to be around for many many generations to come.
For your reading pleasure, here is a brief introduction to the three major temples and shrines I visited during my recent trip to Kyoto.
Fantastic Fox-san
There are a million and one holy places in Kyoto, so it's no wonder I didn't manage to see all of them when I visited a couple of years ago. The big ones are Kiyomizudera, a Buddhist temple famous for it's allegedly magical water that will bless you with long and happy life, and Kinkakuji, a beautiful golden temple designed to serve as an earthly representation of the heaven-eqsue buddhist Pure Land. Fushimi Inari Taisha is for whatever reason less well-known, but still absolutely fantastic. It's a holy mountain shrine dating back to 711 B.C. covered in beautiful red shinto gates.
Most shinto shrines have a single torii (the Japanese name for this particular red gate style) that indicates the entrance to a holy place. Sometimes they're different colors, and sometimes they're made from stone or concrete rather than wood, but there is always a certain majesty to them. I've discussed before the Japanese aesthetic of building something vibrant and striking in the middle of peaceful scenery without actually interrupting the natural beauty of the landscape. It's amazing. I don't think there's a single person who visits Fushimi Inari Taisha and leaves thinking "that would have been great if only someone hadn't put all these stupid gates here."
Fushimi Inari's claim to fame is that instead of only having one gate, there are several thousand. Yes, thousand. I can only imagine the people who built it were the kind of one-uppers who believed in the idea that if one is good, five-thousand is exponentially better. As you walk up the mountain (a little over an hour from the base to the main shrine at the top), you are constantly surrounded by torii. The ones near the bottom of the mountain are clearly much newer, but as you near the top, you begin to notice that some of the gates are obviously quite old. Fushimi Inari pays the bills by selling advertising rights on each gate, so the torii backs are covered with (tastefully-done, I must add) advertisements. Somehow the thick black lettering just seems to add to the aesthetics.
The guardians of Fushimi Inari are the stone fox deities scattered around the mountain, standing guard over the various shrines and memorials. Because of their stern-looking scowl, they sometimes come across as frightening, while other times looking down-right adorable. What I thought was a scroll is apparently a granary key that the foxes carry in their mouths--Inari, the patron diety of the shrine, is the deity of rice, in addition to being the guardian of business--hence the reason for all the advertising. It never hurts to have a god in your corner!
Fushimi Inari's claim to fame is that instead of only having one gate, there are several thousand. Yes, thousand. I can only imagine the people who built it were the kind of one-uppers who believed in the idea that if one is good, five-thousand is exponentially better. As you walk up the mountain (a little over an hour from the base to the main shrine at the top), you are constantly surrounded by torii. The ones near the bottom of the mountain are clearly much newer, but as you near the top, you begin to notice that some of the gates are obviously quite old. Fushimi Inari pays the bills by selling advertising rights on each gate, so the torii backs are covered with (tastefully-done, I must add) advertisements. Somehow the thick black lettering just seems to add to the aesthetics.
The guardians of Fushimi Inari are the stone fox deities scattered around the mountain, standing guard over the various shrines and memorials. Because of their stern-looking scowl, they sometimes come across as frightening, while other times looking down-right adorable. What I thought was a scroll is apparently a granary key that the foxes carry in their mouths--Inari, the patron diety of the shrine, is the deity of rice, in addition to being the guardian of business--hence the reason for all the advertising. It never hurts to have a god in your corner!
Like everywhere in Kyoto, Fushimi Inari Taisha was bustling with activity, but unlike USJ, it got better as time passed. You can see from the pictures that we had plenty of opportunities to quietly reflect on how beautiful everything was. The path was crowded near the bottom, but since it takes more than an hour to get to the top of the mountain, nature weeds out a lot of the less-dedicated travelers. By the time we got to the top, we were practically by ourselves, which was great because I stopped like an obnoxious tourist to take a lot of pictures.
As I was snapping away, I kept wondering why I hadn't bothered to stop off here last time I was in Kyoto, but I think it's probably a good thing I didn't. Even in winter I was sweating and overheated by the time I got near the top, and I can't imagine braving Fushimi Inari in the summer heat. As we were walking, we were passed by a postal worker who'd been given the task of delivering mail to the top of the mountain. Not a job I envy, that's for sure! Though I guess he saves some money by not needing a gym membership.
As I was snapping away, I kept wondering why I hadn't bothered to stop off here last time I was in Kyoto, but I think it's probably a good thing I didn't. Even in winter I was sweating and overheated by the time I got near the top, and I can't imagine braving Fushimi Inari in the summer heat. As we were walking, we were passed by a postal worker who'd been given the task of delivering mail to the top of the mountain. Not a job I envy, that's for sure! Though I guess he saves some money by not needing a gym membership.
Kiyomizudera
I didn't stop at Kinkakuji this time, but I did go back to Kiyomizudera, probably the most famous Buddhist temple in Japan. Apparently the temple was founded in 798, but the current buildings weren't around until 1633. I remember one of my college professors telling us that you could leap off the side of Kiyomizudera (a 43-foot drop) and the boddhisatva Kannon would save you if you were pious enough. I didn't push my luck.
Kiyomizudera is a huge complex, consisting of several main buildings as well as a lovely red pagoda on the edges of the property. One of the main buildings was shut down for construction--it seems like winter is the season when a lot of the tourist sites are shut down for construction--but it was still lovely. We weren't planning on going there again, but I'm glad we did.
The all-compelling quest of peace
On our way back from Kiyomizudera, we stumbled across a gigantic stone statue of the Bodhisattva Kannon poking up from a rather plain-Jane temple building. This isn't the first time something like this has happened to me during my tenure in Japan. I'll be driving or walking or biking around the countryside when suddenly...BAM! Giant Buddha. Japanese deities like to keep you on your toes. Having nothing more pressing to do with our time, we decided to check it out. I'm really glad we did, because it turned out that the Ryozen Kannon Temple is a rather touching memorial for the fallen soldiers in WWII.
In Memorium
The World's Unknown Soldier
killed in
World War II
----
All honor to him, friend or foe,
Who fought and died for his country!
May the tragedy of his supreme
Sacrifice bring to us, the living,
Enlightenment and inspiration;
Fill us with ever-mounting zeal
For the all-compelling quest of peace,
World peace, and universal brotherhood.
----
Erected by the Ryozen Kannon Kai, Kyoto
June 8, 1958
The World's Unknown Soldier
killed in
World War II
----
All honor to him, friend or foe,
Who fought and died for his country!
May the tragedy of his supreme
Sacrifice bring to us, the living,
Enlightenment and inspiration;
Fill us with ever-mounting zeal
For the all-compelling quest of peace,
World peace, and universal brotherhood.
----
Erected by the Ryozen Kannon Kai, Kyoto
June 8, 1958
I suppose if there is a purpose for war, this is it. We war in the hopes that by warring we can satisfy that "all-compelling quest for peace"--a contradiction if I've ever heard one. Peace seems so far away these days, particularly now that the death of the two Japanese hostages at the hands of ISIS militants is fresh in everyone's mind here in Japan. Almost fifty years after this monument was erected, ideals of world peace and universal brotherhood are only slipping further and further out of our grasp. For a brief moment while we were at the temple, I felt wrapped in the powerful sadness of that thought. I imagine the people who dedicated this temple, and what they pictured the post-WWII world might look like in fifty years. I can't imagine this is it.
Still, it was nice to come across such a touching memorial. Only a fifteen minute walk from Kiyomizudera and we were the only people there. If not for blind luck, we wouldn't have even known to visit.
This is one of the things I love most about Japan. Even in the most unassuming places, there is always something surprising. There are tiny temples and shrines around every corner, small things that remind you of Japan's rich history and culture. As a college student, I was enamored of everything traditional Japan had to offer, and I was in a sense immensely disappointed to travel here and find that Japan has become a modern country and lost much of what made it beautiful before. This isn't specific to Japan, either--in a sense, embracing the modern means leaving the dated behind. If you look at Japan through the lens of Osaka or Tokyo, it's hard to see it as anything but a boring concrete jungle.
If you want to catch a glimpse of easily-accessible, English-friendly traditional Japan, Kyoto is the place to go.
Still, it was nice to come across such a touching memorial. Only a fifteen minute walk from Kiyomizudera and we were the only people there. If not for blind luck, we wouldn't have even known to visit.
This is one of the things I love most about Japan. Even in the most unassuming places, there is always something surprising. There are tiny temples and shrines around every corner, small things that remind you of Japan's rich history and culture. As a college student, I was enamored of everything traditional Japan had to offer, and I was in a sense immensely disappointed to travel here and find that Japan has become a modern country and lost much of what made it beautiful before. This isn't specific to Japan, either--in a sense, embracing the modern means leaving the dated behind. If you look at Japan through the lens of Osaka or Tokyo, it's hard to see it as anything but a boring concrete jungle.
If you want to catch a glimpse of easily-accessible, English-friendly traditional Japan, Kyoto is the place to go.