I jumped off the train at 4:30 and hopped on the subway, headed for my hotel. Despite limited signage, I find it quickly, check in, drop off my bags and head to the only temple open past 5. It's not far away and I figure it's not a great idea to try to decipher the bus system so I decide to hoof it. I headed due east to Kiyomizu-dera, which means "pure water temple", for the water fall (really more of a trickle) that runs through its grounds that is reputed to cure whatever ails those who drink from it. But I get ahead of myself.
As the sun finished setting and dusk began to give way to twilight, the street leading up the hill to one of Kyoto's major tourist sites was jammed with tourists, perusing the various shops selling traditional Japanese foods, gifts and electronics. Hundreds of tourists wandered down the street, while this one, lone Gaijin headed up. I arrived at 5:45, prepared to continue rushing to take in all this thirteen hundred year old (founded in 780) temple had to offer.
Unfortunately the shrines were completely unlit and, with roofs above were nearly pitch black when I arrived. Luck was on my side, though, Okuninushi no Mikoto, the Buddhist deity of love, smiled on me, leading me on a straight path between his two fabled stones, indicating good luck in my love life. Generally the path is walked by young women in hopes that their beau will soon propose. I'm not sure what it means for me.
I then headed to its famous platform and its wooded view of the city:
Before heading down to the waterfall and having myself a drink. I'm not sure what was wrong with me, but as the trip progressed -- whether through reflection or blessed water -- I definitely found myself in a more at peace place.
I thought I was in too much of a hurry though. Everything I just described happened in the course of ten minutes and as I left the temple, I realized it didn't close for another five minutes. Whoops.
Half an hour later, I found myself in Gion, known for its traditional layout along the banks of Kamo-gawa (a river) and being one of the last havens of the Geisha. I wandered the streets in search of Geisha, or more likely, maiko, their trainees.
It did not take too long before luck struck. Wandering down a pedestrian walkway, I glanced over my shoulder and found what I was in search of:
I continued to wander around the neighborhood, in search of dinner. It seemed like a very friendly place at first, smartly dressed fellows kept inviting me into their establishments. Before long, though, I realized it wasn't in quite the same manner as Japanese restaurants often invite in guests I also realized all of the signs were red and whatever they were selling came at a fixed price that was too expensive for dinner. I had left the Geisha district.
I quickly made my way back to more crowded streets and found myself a crowded sushi restaurant. It was incredibly cheap, but still tasty. Every item they offered was 137 yen (about a buck, fifteen). There I met Holly, a Vancouver native, who had spent the last year working odd jobs to pay the bills as she vacationed in New Zealand. Not wanting to go directly from the end of one winter (in the southern hemisphere) to the beginning of another, she had headed to Japan to take a vacation from her vacation.
After another drink at the local Irish pub, it was back to my guest house.
Bright and early the next day I headed up to the Old Imperial Palace. After a quick train ride and a stroll through the grounds, I made my way to the Imperial Household Agency. To see if perhaps that whole advanced reservations thing wasn't REALLY required. When you're winging it, as we all know, reservations just don't work.
Fortunately, in this case, reservations weren't really required. Even a passport, which was allegedly required, was negotiable. By some fantastic bit of luck, they believed that I wasn't Japanese without my showing proof.
Now the reason why I needed to prove my non-Japaneseness is a little messed up. Tours of the palace are free and offered twice a day -- in English. They are open to anyone -- except Japanese citizens. Japanese citizens are required to join a private tour -- a tour that is anything but free -- if they want to tour this important aspect of their country's history.
Inequities aside, the setup worked well for me. As a couple hundred Japanese folks lined up outside the palace, I followed the white people past the long queue through a much shorter line and into a waiting area with a video introduction.
While waiting, I met Silke, a German international tax law attorney. She insisted that her focus was actually as interesting as it sounded and after talking about it a bit, I came to realize that it was probably true. On behalf of the German government she attempts to force corporations to pay their fair share of taxes and in doing so, travels to conferences in places like Kyoto to be the bad guy among the far more numerous trade representatives, arguing for less restrictions.
Before long we were off on our tour. We learned (or at least felt the cool breeze as it passed through one ear and then the other) the history of the palace. I was struck by how frequently it burned to the ground. It was naturally at great risk, since it's entirely made of wood and all of the buildings are connected so there aren't any natural fire lines. What I found odd is that they didn't build in anything to combat this. If not something more sophisticated, they could have at least taken a little something from the Chinese, whose Imperial Palace is decorated with a number of large vats. Today they just seem like nice decorations. Hundreds of years ago, though, they were filled with water, which was always near at hand to be used to fight whatever fires might spring up.
From there, it was off to Kinkakuji. It's a particularly famous temple - the grounds are lovely, the temple is nice and it has one particularly unique characteristic. It's covered in gold and, as such, is known as the Golden Pavilion. The original version of the temple was built in 1397. It stood for over 550 years before a disgruntled monk burned it to the ground, gold and all.
It was rebuilt in 1955, but, due to financial limitations, it was not regilded until the 80s.
An interesting bit of trivia. One of the more famous temples in east Kyoto is Ginkakuji. It's a replica of Kinkakuji and is known as the Silver Pavilion. You've probably got a pretty good guess as to the difference between the two temples ... and, you're probably wrong. No, the Silver Pavilion is not covered in silver. It was built about 80 years after the Golden Pavilion and was intended to be covered with silver. Unfortunately, as time was limited. I didn't actually get the chance to visit the Silver Pavilion.
