Day Eight: Kurama

Not being so sure about the weather over the next few days, Phebe and I decided that today was the day to try and go up to Kurama, a small town nestled in a valley next to a mountain of the same name. This involved navigating a section of the Kyoto subway, which, once we figured out how its signs were different from those in Tokyo, was actually fairly easy to do. At the end of the line we switched to a small train that made its way through several small communities, each one less urban than the next. These towns were probably inhabited by frequent Kyoto visitors, akin to living in a suburban community outside a large Canadian city. They just happened to be "suburbs" located at the base of a mountain.

On the second train we bumped into a father and son originally from Manchester, England. Dad works for a pharmaceutical company, and he and his son and daughter had spent six years living outside Osaka. They were back in Japan for a visit so that his son could see some of his friends from the international school he had attended while in Japan (he had a football (soccer) game to atten that night). Having never been to Kurama, they were also heading up to take it in.

Kurama is the site of a major Buddhist temple, but as we were warned in the various literature on Japan, it was initially difficult to tell whether it was completely Buddhist or whether or not there was some of the indigenous Shintoism featured as well. The "center" of town featured many shops that all sold variations on the same trinkets, usually of the same "kami" (Japanese spirit). It quickly became obvious that despite the English maps available, Kurama was a popular destination for Japanese tourists.

We paid our small fee at the temple's main gates and then proceeded to climb the mountain. "Climb" is perhaps too strong a word, but it was a fairly steep hike up some stone stairs in some parts. We took in the various small shrines and structures along our way towards the temple's main chamber. All of these items were nestled within the woods, amidst small waterfalls and streams, making the journey extremely peaceful and refreshing. The temperature was hot and humid, and yet the constant mist made sure that things weren't too bad.

When we arrived at the first of two secondary gates, there was a small spout running into a tiny stone pool. Beside the pool were several small ladles. The pool itself was set into smooth stones. This was a purification site. We decided to take part, even though I noticed that, as the travel literature predicted, many Japanese didn't bother. Purification involves taking a ladle in hand and pouring water from the spout over both your hands. Than you take another ladle and pour some water into your clean cupped hand. You raise that hand to your mouth, take a small sip of water, then spit it out on the small rocks around the raised pool (not into the pool!). The entire process is very quick, refreshing in the heat, and actually very clean. There's no cross-contamination of water at any point (presumably that would render the ritual pointless).

After purification, we made our way up to the shrine itself. Tossing some yen into the collection case, we took turns ringing the bell, clapping, bowing, and thenj stepping back. There is traditionally some praying in there too. Phebe paid a little extra in order to obtain a Japanese fortune, which unfortunately she couldn't read. However, the fortune comes inside a small trinket, a keychain depicting a tengu, a Shinto "monster-spirit" that is now associated with protection (though apparently far from loving in its actions). We continued up the mountain, by this point starting to feel the incline increase.

As we made our way up the mountain we were greeted with many "konnichiwas" by people who were making their way back down (or, in the case of older men, usually at least a nod of acknowledgment). The other visitors mostly appeared to be other Japanese, and I recalled that I had read that Kurama was a big destination for Japanese tourists who wanted to explore their country's history. While there were those who actively engaged in the rituals (mostly older people), many seemed as enchanted and curious as we were, and there were many cameras being carried around. That said, there were still some younger 20-somethings who, decked out in jeans and stylish tops, would approach the shrine seemingly with a clear sense of what to do. As we understand, many Japanese are apparently "culturally" Buddhist or Shintoist, just as in Canada many people are culturally Christian. It means that while they may not be strictly observant, they apparently do have a sense of what is expected at some level.     

The moist humidity was almost gone by the time we made it to the main temple, leaving a slightly drier heat. The entrance was adorned with a pillar of sand in which to stick burning incense. Inside was very quiet and peaceful, but given the fact that there were several people actually trying to pray, we felt intrusive as gawking tourists so we left pretty quickly. We went further up the mountain, stopping again at another shrine. Our last stop was a site where there are the tangled and exposed roots of cedar trees, giving the impression of giant wooden veins coursing through the ground. Standing among the woods, listening to the birds and droning insects, was incredibly peaceful and especially reminded Phebe of her love of the bush. By that time I was getting pretty hungry, so we decided to head back down. In theory we could have kept going onto the next town, Kibune, but the whole trip would've taken an additional 45 minutes on top of the two hours or so we'd already done, and then heading back (even without stopping) would've taken 90 minutes. That journey will be something for next time.

On the way back down, I wanted to take the optional tram (as I'd never taken a tram, let alone one down the side of a mountain). This time it was our chance to offer a cheerful "konnichiwa!" to breathless people we met on their way up. Though the tram was basically us and older women, it's worth mentioning that we met several elderly women powering their way up and down the mountain. Some of these women only came up to Phebe's shoulder, and yet they had an energy that I don't belief I will ever have. It furthered the sense that, even as Japanese women are largely not represented in official government, female power is quite big in Japan. There are reasons why the vast majority of people who've helped us and communicated with us have been women, and they range from more freedom to travel and learn English, senses of feminine solidarity, and, in a few cases, probably not a little sense of maternal care. 

Lunch was at a (presumably Buddhist) vegetarian restaurant. My meal was soba noodles, some soy and vegetables, and dashi broth. Phebe's included actually tasty eggplant and the first truly alien food item we've tried to eat --- a bowl of something white that had the consistency of mucus. It was not a treat. For dessert I had a coke float, but afterwards I realized just how expensive American soda is in Japan ($8 for the float!). It's much cheaper to go with beer and coffee.

After lunch it was time for what for me was the main event, a soak in the local onsen (hot spring). To get there meant walking through a lot of the town of Kurama, an amazing-looking little village that even had an aquaduct and a place to wash one's clothes in the small river. At the spring we managed to order two tickets and large towels, and then went our separate ways. The springs are gender segregated, a feature that is, notably, imported from Western sensibilities. Apparently in rural Japan there are still public baths that are not segregated, but in tourist areas especially they are a thing of the past. I managed to stuff my enormous gaijin shoes into a small locker, notable for the fact that it locked with a large wooden key. Before you soak, you need to bath by sitting down on a small stool, lathering yourself up with soap, and then rinsing yourself off with a detachable shower head. The heated water itself was apparently atop a sulfur spring, but there was no detectable odor (keeping in mind that the pool itself was a modern construction, and not simply a big natural pool in the ground). After soaking myself in the late afternoon sunshine amongst the woods and mountains, I felt good enough to know that I would never be satisfied with simply a Western shower again. In my head, onsen join Finnish-style saunas as something which North America is missing out on.

After our soaks we headed back to the train to Kyoto, looking forward to making lentil tacos back at the hostel.