Tuesday, 17 December 2013
An earlier night started a shift back towards the old body clock cycle, and while I'm usually awake comfortably before 6:15, that's often the result of an earlier bedtime.
As it was, I crawled out of the cot, spent a bit of time on the Travelogue, then crawled back for another spell in the cot. That lasted until it was my turn for the morning shower.
After that, we were off to the Number Three Breakfast Viking in Japan.
We'd been in the coffee shop the previous afternoon and had the chance to get a glimpse of an impressively large serving area.
News that this was #3 in the country meant I wasn't going to be taking my time with the ablutions.
Downstairs, I was disappointed to note the lack of vodka in the area around the tomato juice.
The Viking offered the standard options but added a touch of luxury in the form of foie gras, caviar and extremely rare roast beef.
And desserts.
Yes, if you were that way inclined, you could opt for sweets at the end of your breakfast.
I'd loaded up in the interests of avoiding lunch, and by the time the topic of dessert was raised, I was at a point where I couldn't eat another thing.
I'd responded to a couple of remarks about the morning's intake with an oink.
I reckoned I was justified. I knew I'd need the fuel given the day's game plan, which involved a bus across to Ginkakuji temple. We'd been to before and weren't planning to revisit.
We were, however, planning another walk along the Philosopher's Path.
Unlike the previous attempt, when crowds made us bail out before we'd completed the canal-side stroll we were planning on doing the lot, and visiting a few temples.
One was definite, with a second as a strong possibility. If we felt like more, there were further possibilities on the way to Gion, where Madam needed to do some shopping.
You'll never run out of temples on a day in Kyoto.
With breakfast duly demolished, we headed off, looking for a bus to get us to Ginkakuji.
There were several possibilities involving a variety of routes.
When we asked the old bloke at the bus station, he didn't clutter us up with options. Number One! was the direction, in a tone that suggested there really weren't any alternatives.
There's nothing like a definite opinion.
We joined the appropriate queue, which wasn't that long when we arrived.
By the time it did, we had a good busload of people behind us, along with the people in front who would have gone close to filling the seats on the bus.
Still, we wangled a seat, and as the rest of the queue piled on it was a definite case of squeezing room only. Quite literally, the bus was chocker.
It was a limited express affair, running straight from the station to Kyoto's most famous temple.
That's a significant statement when you consider the number of famous temples in Kyoto. But when we arrived, I figured I knew why the old guy had been so sure that this was the bus.
Quite simple. Everyone was going to Kyomizu.
If we'd boarded at the end of the queue at the station and suffered the sardine treatment on the first leg, there'd be no problem grabbing a seat after the first stop.
We alighted at Ginkakuji and headed off, enjoying the contrast to the earlier visit, which was slap bang in the peak of the sakura season.
The Philosopher's Path (Tetsugaku no Michi) runs beside a canal in the northern part of Higashiyama district. It takes its name from philosopher Nishida Kitaro's habit of using the path for his daily walk on his way to work at Kyoto University.
With hundreds of cherry trees lining the canal, which was built during the Meiji Period to revitalise the local economy, and powered Japan's first hydroelectric plant, the path is one of Kyoto's most popular hanami (cherry blossom season) locations.
The two-kilometre walk has more than its share of restaurants, cafes, and boutiques, as well as many temples and shrines.
Last time there were thousands of visitors revelling in the sakura.
This time, we weren't entirely on our own. If you wanted to be jostled, you'd have to go out of your way to find someone to bump into, but for a leisurely walk and quiet contemplation, this was the way to go.
Most of the leaves were gone, but you get a better view of the canal and surrounds without the mass of pink to distract you.
Do the walk in peak season, and you'll be one of the thousands.
Here we were two out of what might have been a couple of dozen. Then we diverted to Honenin temple, where the tranquillity was only broken by a passing group of Junior High students. There was a subtle blast of punk rock emanating from someone's music player earbuds.
Things would be different in peak season, but it was quiet contemplation and enjoyment of the subtly landscaped scenery.
Back on the path, we moved on downhill, planning to end up at Nanzenji, but made a brief detour when we reached the end of the Philosopher's Path, sidetracking into a temple and graveyard. The location wasn't significant enough to feature on the city map but was nonetheless quite charming.
If you're into crowds and being jostled, then go for the obvious attractions, but Kyoto has thousands of sites. Some of the less acclaimed aren't that far short of the headliners as far as the aesthetics are concerned.
It's also down to the time of year when you visit it.
On our first visit, at one of the iconic Zen temples on a sunny sakura Sunday, we'd headed through the grounds with a couple of hundred other visitors.
It was the sort of environment where you want to take your time, but if you wanted to sit, gaze and ponder you had to wait for someone who was seated to get up,
When he or she did, it was a case of first in, best dressed.
Our primary destination, this time, was Nanzenji, one of Japan's most famous Zen temples, the head temple of a school within the Rinzai sect of Zen Buddhism.
That's the one that emphasises the use of koan (paradoxical puzzles) to help the aspiring student of Zen to overcome the boundaries of logic.
Nanzenji dates back to 1264 when Emperor Kameyama built a retirement villa there and converted it into a Zen temple in 1291.
The buildings were destroyed during the Onin War.
Most of the present structures were erected after the seventeenth century.
Given where we were coming from, and unfamiliarity with the lie of the land, we entered the complex from the side. We should have used the Sanmon entrance gate, constructed in 1628 by Todo Takatora in memory of the soldiers who died in the siege of Osaka Castle in 1615.
The temple was affiliated with the Tokugawa era Shōguns. It has been suggested the massive gate, with an excellent view across the city, served as an observation post to monitor imperial activity.
From the balcony on the gate's upper level, you can take in the same view, but you'll pay ¥50 to do it. The top floor also has statues and paintings, but the main attraction seems to be the view.
In the end, we ended up deciding to save the money, but if we're back, I'd be tempted to take a look and evaluate that observation post theory.
The gate was on our right as we came in, and we diverted from temple-viewing to investigate what must be the most recent construction within the temple grounds.
A brick aqueduct built during the Meiji Period is part of the canal system that was constructed to carry water and goods between Kyoto and Lake Biwa in neighbouring Shiga Prefecture.
In other words, a continuation of the Philosopher's Path canal.
We could have gone further, on to Nanzenin, one of Nanzenji's sub-temples located on the location of Emperor Kameyama's original villa.
With the emperor's mausoleum, a temple hall and a moss and rock garden, it might be worth ¥300 they charge for admission, but we had other fish to fry.
We headed on past the Hatto (a lecture hall not open to the public), to the Hojo, the abbot's quarters, where we were happy to hand over the ¥500 for admission to the former imperial palace building donated to the temple in 1611.
The building's chambers are separated by sliding doors (fusuma) with impressive wall panels, but the main attraction is the Zen garden.
It's in much the same style as the gravel garden at Ryoanji with its large rocks set against a plain white wall behind the raked gravel. The stones are said to resemble tigers and cubs wading through water.
Regardless of whether you see the resemblance, the sight is something that needs to be taken in at leisure and was one of the highlights of this trip to Japan.
There are a dozen sub-temples on the grounds where American poet Gary Snyder (Japhy Ryder in Kerouac's The Dharma Bums) underwent Zen training.
Apart from Nanzenin, Konchiin and Tenjuan are noted for their gardens, and, predictably, they are said to be particularly attractive in autumn. They're lit up at night, so expect crowds if you're headed that way in peak season.
We'd managed to sidestep that one rather adroitly, thanks to the Elvis Costello scheduling.
When we got to Nanzenji, we were two out of a couple of dozen scattered around the extensive site.
After we'd paid to walk through the sand gardens, there were a handful of other visitors. All of them were careful to avoid cluttering up everyone else's photographic record.
Predictably, you're asked not to photograph interior panels that wouldn't have shown up well without lighting, which is probably why the instruction is there.
Turn your attention towards the immaculate gardens of carefully raked gravel, and you can snap away to your heart's content and preserve a record of quite sublime landscaping.
That, once we made our way back to the shoe-wearing zone, was enough for the day, at least as far as the temple bit was concerned.
But Madam had landmarks to look at and gift shopping that had to be slotted in.
I had a headache, and a drink of water was a high priority. After a traipse through the back blocks to water pipes that had piqued Someone's interest, I managed to find a vending machine.
Managed to find might seem to be overdoing it since you'll find vending machines almost everywhere. Incredibly, the particular section of back blocks and main urban thoroughfare we traversed was almost entirely bereft of them.
It wasn't exactly rolling in public transport options either, or at least, none that would take us where Madam wanted to go, so we hoofed it.
Our path took us past significant temples (Shorenin and Chionin) and through the grounds of Yasaka shrine. All would have warranted further investigation if we weren't effectively templed out.
We weren't that far from Kodaji, Entokuin, Kenninji and Rokuharamitsuji if those aren't enough next time around.
All of which underlines the point.
Kyoto has enough temples and other attractions to keep the visitor very busy for a very long time, so don't expect to do the lot in one or two visits.
Take a year, ensconce yourself in the city, familiarise yourself with the topography, seasonal variations and infrastructure and head out every day, weather permitting. You'll probably still have things on the bucket list twelve months later.
We ended up on the verges of Gion, the geisha district, but Madam's focus was on gift shopping, which left Hughesy standing on the footpath watching the passing parade.
There was plenty to watch.
You might have hypothesised some occasion in the offing given the number of kimono-clad passers-by. A check with Our Resident Authority On These Matters suggests it was just business as usual in the temple precinct and surrounds.
From there, with one bit of gift shopping complete, we crossed into downtown Kyoto and diverted into an arcade. When things were finished, we took the Number 5 bus back to Kyoto Station and the hotel.
Madam's cash reserves needed replenishing, and I had plenty of Travelogue to catch up on. But once I'd managed to let myself into the room, there was more important business to be attended to.
A quick switch to Safari revealed the Perth Test had reached a satisfactory conclusion, with a five-nil drubbing of The Old Enemy a distinct possibility.
Under the circumstances, a celebratory ale seemed obligatory.
The Travelogue catch-up was postponed until the morrow, which promised to be bleak, drizzly, and unsuitable for walking anywhere where the views were the primary consideration.
We headed out for dinner just after six, not sure where we were going, but the pizza had been installed as an odds-on favourite.
The best option seemed to be Salvatore Cuomo, an operation in the upper levels of the station complex with views across the city.
That was the first option we checked, and when it offered what looked like exactly what we were after, there was no need to look any further.
An order for two pizzas produced a question from the waitress about our capacity to handle that quantity of pizza. As it turned out, we did it on our respective ears.
Hughesy would have been lining up for dessert if Cassata had appeared on the menu.
It had been there on the incarnation before last, and may well be included in the next one.
But it wasn't there this time around, and I headed back to the room via the vending machine, which yielded a post-prandial tin of Asahi Super Dry.
Nine o'clock saw the regular sawing of logs as Madam indulged in a hot bath.
It was well after the scheduled time to rise when I hit the new day the following morning.