Tag Archives: darkness

On the Other Side of the Mountain

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Today, I am exactly halfway through my trip. To celebrate, I have decided to take a break from city life and booked a night at a Japanese inn, known as a ryokan. It is situated in the middle of the mountains in a place called Nikko, in Tochigi Prefecture. My plan for the next few days is to experience a more traditional side of Japan.

From Asakusa, I pay ¥2390 for an express train taking 140 minutes. At Shimo-imaichi Station, I have to change to a dreaded local train. On the platform, I wear a short-sleeved shirt. A Japanese man says to his friend, “Look at that guy; he must be freezing!” I admit, it is a little cooler than Tokyo, but I only have to wait two minutes at the cold station platform. I eventually get on the local train. It sounds like a roller coaster as it claws its way up the mountainous tracks. The train’s only luxury is its heated seats; they make the whole train smell like the inside of a giant hairdryer. Five minutes later, I arrive at Tobu-Nikko Station.

I head out of the station and onto an old bus; the transport on this trip is getting progressively worse. The place I am staying tonight is at Yumoto Onsen; ninety minutes from Nikko Station and some 185 kilometres north of Tokyo. It’s just gone five, but the sun is no longer visible. The bus crawls through the darkness. A warning says, ‘Hold onto the handrail as the bus will sway from side to side as it makes its ascent.’

The bus eventually arrives at my stop, the last stop. I pay ¥1700. This is also the last bus. I am trapped up here now; no coming back. Outside, it is freezing cold—the coldest I have been since leaving England. Luckily, at the bus stop, I am greeted by warm smiles. A Japanese woman with a sign is waiting for me. We head to her car, and she drives me thirty seconds to the place I will spend the night

Inside the ryokan, she takes me to my room—the biggest room I have stayed in since being in Japan, spacious and warm. It has a massive double futon laid out, and a table of equal size. The woman starts by preparing me a hot cup of green tea before leaving to prepare my dinner. I get dressed into my yukata, carefully ensuring I cross it left over right; crossing it the other way is how the dead are dressed at funerals, and I am not dead. I also make sure to tie the bow behind me; a bow at the front is how prostitutes dress.

At 7 p.m., the woman comes back into my room to serve me dinner.

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My food consists of buttered trout, salmon, vegetable tempura with natural salt, radish, simmered sesame tofu, lotus root, miso gratin with cabbage, yuzu pepper salad, grilled eggplant, fried tofu, boiled tofu in a soy milk pot with mushrooms, rice, a selection of vegetables, a selection of pickles, and a couple of things I can’t identify. The entire meal is pescatarian, and all the food is of the highest standard. I don’t usually like tofu, but up here, it is made from the cleanest of mountain water and tastes phenomenal.

After a while, the woman comes back into my room to clear and clean the table before bringing me dessert. In comparison to the huge dinner, my dessert is somewhat anticlimactic.

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I help myself to a couple of the complimentary bottles of Autumn edition beer before deciding to take a dip in the hot springs. I book the outdoor onsen for forty-five minutes. Outside, there is not a single sound. The stars are out. Mountains loom in the distance. The contrast of boiling hot water mixing with the cold winter air is wonderful and relaxing. After my time is up, I head indoors to onsen number two.

The indoor onsen doesn’t offer a window, so there isn’t much of a view. It is a rather lonely experience. After I get out, I take a shower. It is etiquette in Japan to shower before and after getting into a hot spring bath, so this is actually my fourth shower this evening. I notice weighing scales in the changing room; I haven’t weighed myself since before I came to Japan. After a massive meal and a not-so-massive dessert, I am surprised to discover that I am 7kg lighter than when I arrived in this country.

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Back in my room and with kilogrammes to gain, I decide that the perfect way to cool off is with a delicious tub of homemade cream cheese and alcohol-flavoured ice cream. Sulphur from the onsen taints the experience slightly, the smell of rotten eggs lingering in the room.

I sip quietly on complimentary beers with the window wide open, wrapped up in my traditional Japanese clothing. The clean cold air is nothing more than a fresh distraction to the silence that engulfs me. Outside, the only thing I can see is hot smoke billowing from the many hot spring baths and the dark outline of mountains in the distance.

Gion with the Finned

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Today is my last day in Kyoto. Tomorrow I will go to Osaka for three days, before heading off to Nagoya. I still have one temple I want to see, a temple with a difference. I head through the arcade, the same French song is playing that I’ve heard about four other times this week. I know the song but can’t recall the name. There is a pachinko parlour with a picture of Rowan Atkinson on the advertising board. There is also a strange mascot wandering around the arcade, promoting a festival here this evening.

I start by walking through a district called Gion. Gion is the most famous place in Japan for spotting geisha, although here they use the local term ‘Geiko,’ which translates to mean a ‘person of the arts.’ Gion is filled with numerous traditional old streets lined with even older houses, alongside a mix of theatres and other traditional entertainment.

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I head up the mountainside to my last Kyoto temple, Otowa-san Kiyomizu-dera, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the seventeen Historical Monuments of Ancient Kyoto. There are some very interesting things to do here. One of them is walking from one sacred stone to the other with your eyes closed. If you succeed, you will supposedly be lucky in love. Another, which is actually prohibited now, is the chance to jump from a 13-metre-high stage. Surviving would mean your wish would be granted. This tradition dates back to the Edo period, where the survival rate was 85.4%.

The main reason I came here, though, was to experience the ‘womb’ of Daizuigu Bosatsu. This occurs not in the main temple building but in the smaller Tainai-meguri Hall. It costs me ¥100 to enter. I take off my shoes and walk down a few steps, all the while holding onto the handrail made of prayer beads. Beyond the steps, I take a right turn and enter a room of complete darkness.

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Daizuigu Bosatsu, a female Bodhisattva, possesses the mystical ability to fulfill any human wish. Alone, I navigate through a labyrinth of corridors shrouded in an abyss of blackness so consuming that it swallows all semblance of light. Oddly, it is somewhat peaceful, yet simultaneously horrifying. After an eternity of carefully navigating through the darkness, a distant glimmer pierces through the shadows—a radiant stone. It is at this stone that I make a wish.

Once outside, I continue to wander through this vast temple complex. Here, there’s a natural water spring available for ¥200, but I opt not to drink from it. After sufficient exploration, I decide it’s time to head back; the heat becomes a bit too overwhelming for me. As I descend the mountain, I catch sight of an incredible, bright red shrine: Yasaka Shrine.

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My next destination today is along the Takase River, at The Birthplace of the Japanese Motion Pictures Industry. Inabata Katsutaro showcased the first experimental film in Japan. Following his visit to Paris in 1896 to attend the Paris Exposition, he returned to Japan with a cinematograph he acquired from the French inventor Auguste Lumière. In 1897, he screened the film in the garden of the building.

Unfortunately, the building is closed today.

I feel a little hungry and decide that today I’ll try grilled eel for the first time. After wandering for a while, I finally find the place and take a seat in the restaurant. There are probably eight or nine other people eating here. The restaurant plays no music, and there is absolutely no ambiance. Nobody talks either; everyone just sits in silence with their grilled eel, as if waiting for the end of the world.

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The menu is a little pricey, so I opt for the small grilled eel on rice with pickles. It arrives with a teapot full of hot green tea. Had I known, I wouldn’t have ordered a beer. The dish, called ‘Unadon,’ is delicious. It’s not what I was expecting; the texture is somewhere between meat and fish, and the soy-based glaze is delicious. Even the rice is good; I savour every grain. In total, it costs me ¥2800, an expensive treat.

I head back to the hostel for a short while to write before heading out again for the Kyoto Tanabata Festival, which starts at 6 p.m.

The festival stretches all along the Kamo River, hosting around one hundred small stalls selling various Japanese snacks, little gifts, and the usual souvenirs. Dubbed the ‘Star Festival,’ it’s said that writing your wish on a special piece of paper here will magically make it come true. One side of the festival is adorned with paper lanterns, while the other side is lined with lanterns made of reflective coloured paper.

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At the entrance to the festival, a female performer is essentially doing karaoke, while at the other end, people dance to music on a stage. For no apparent reason, one guy is dressed as a polar bear. As nothing particularly interests me about the festival, I walk its length and then leave.

I head back to the hostel, up to the roof terrace, to read my book.

The evening sky looks like the end of the world.

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