Monday 16 December 2013

Monday 16 December 2013

There comes a time on every trip when mundane issues impinge on the travel arrangements. 

Such issues don't come much more mundane than the question of laundry, with particular reference to clean supplies of jocks, socks and other undergarments.

We had a relatively late check out at eleven the morning, an on-site coin laundry and breakfast to slot in between the start of the laundry cycle and the check on whether things were dry enough.

As it turned out, they weren't. Quite. That was the result of a slightly later than perfect start and a phone call from The Sister that ran right up towards checkout time.

We managed to negotiate a little more dryer time out of the front desk. 

That wouldn't have required any negotiation at all if the lift didn't demand a room key to operate. But it did, and the front desk obliged with continued access after we'd officially moved into ex-guest status.

Some things weren't quite dry, but the haul to Kyoto was relatively short. We were able to check-in immediately after we arrived at the hotel beside Kyoto station around one-fifteen.

There was one other task that needed to be attended to after the laundry was done, and that was the now routine matter of shipping The Red Suitcase back to The Mother.

With three days to go and a couple of layers of warm clothing in use, what we needed for Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday morning could go into what amounted to carry on luggage. The Red Suitcase was temporarily surplus to requirements.

We were in the process of packing Hughesy's gear into the blue bag when we found the gloves I thought we left behind in Bowen. 

Just in time, as it turned out because conditions on the ground in Kyoto were bitterly cold. 

Not quite freezing, but cold enough to have you glad of an effective layer of pinkie protection.

There was a courier depot just around the corner from the hotel, so we resumed our peregrinations much lighter in the luggage department.

The switches between hotel and subway station, subway and JR line and between Kyoto Station and the Century Hotel ran like clockwork. Having checked in, we found ourselves with a couple of hours we could devote to a temple visit.

Just across the river, definitely within walking distance, we had Sanjūsangendō, one of the leading attractions if temples are the kind of thing that floats your boat. 

A little further up the road, Chishakuin offers another option, and a national museum is straight across the street but was undergoing renovations.

In any case, we've adopted a policy of limiting ourselves to one (or two if they're reasonably close) sightseeing options per day.

And as far as Sanjūsangendō is concerned, one is almost definitely enough.

Go anywhere else afterwards and the other site will probably pale in comparison, head elsewhere first and then on to Sanjūsangendō and you'll probably end up consigning the earlier visit to the dark recesses of a vague memory.

Here's a prime example. 

Until I went back to look at the photographic record, I'd forgotten all about this…

Walking provides an opportunity to pick up on other things along the way.

An old guy on the footpath and a reference to a free display caused us to turn left into a ground floor shop front in downtown Kyoto. Inside, we found a group of people intent on reviving aspects of the city's cultural heritage. They were promoting a project to restore traditional procession floats.

Or floats for traditional processions, either way, you probably catch my drift.

The recreated float is impressively huge and should present an imposing sight as it makes its way through downtown Kyoto once it is finished.

Across the river and up the hill, we had a choice of entrances when we reached the destination. We looped around the perimeter fence rather than going in through what turned out to be the exit.

Predictably, where we were going is not Sanjūsangendō (Hall with thirty-three spaces between the columns) at all. 

That name describes its most notable feature, the 120-metre main hall, which is either the world's longest wooden building or Japan's longest wooden structure. 

Possibly, both. Either way, it's a truly monumental structure.

Counting the spaces between the supports was a traditional measure of a building's length. 

The temple's official name is Rengeōin, Hall of the Lotus King.

Founded in 1164, destroyed by fire in 1249 with the main hall rebuilt in 1266, the temple's reputation is based on one of the most impressive assemblies of statues in the world.

You might be tempted to use a collection instead of an assembly. But with a thousand life-size statues of the Thousand Armed Kannon in fifty columns, ten rows deep around a seated Kannon Bodhisattva (Sahasrabhujaarya avalokiteśvara) that dates back to 1254 assembly seems the way to go.

If a thousand and one Kannons aren't enough, the assembly is surrounded by twenty-eight statues of deities who guard the Buddhist universe. 

They're Kannon's disciples and embody various virtues. 

The collection is rounded out by two traditional Buddhist temple guardians: Raijin, the god of thunder, and Fujin, the god of wind.

Kannon is the Bodhisattva of compassion, and the statue radiates a peaceful and benevolent attitude.

The mathematics involved with the thousand arms takes a bit of explaining. 

The sculptures show forty-two arms along with eleven heads that will give them a better grasp of the extent of human suffering.

The arms, according to Buddhist teachings, fight off suffering on twenty-five planes of existence. Two of them are required for everyday purposes, and forty suffering-fighters across twenty-five planes comes to a thousand.

Simple, once you accept the multi-plane notion.

Of the thousand statues, one hundred and twenty-four were rescued from the fire that destroyed the original structure. 

The others, along with the centrepiece, were carved from Japanese cypress and then covered with gold leaf as part of the reconstruction.

The temple is a venue for archery contests (Tōshiya) on the west veranda and the Rite of the Willow. Worshippers are touched on the head with a willow branch to cure and prevent headaches. Both take place in January each year.

The Inquisitive Reader could have been muttering This verbiage is all very well, Hughesy, but where's the photographic evidence?

 If I hadn't taken steps to avoid the question. TIR might not be staved off with a statement about cameras and video equipment being forbidden. 

But that's the way it is. 

Anticipating the problem, I shelled out for the official booklet. 

The possible breaches of copyright will have to do, along with the assurance it's something best experienced in the physical dimension rather than as a two-dimensional image.

The weariness factor was starting to set in as we left the temple, but there was a bus stop halfway along the northern perimeter wall. 

A bus appeared within minutes to whisk us back to Kyoto station. 

When we checked in, we'd received a voucher that could be used in the hotel coffee shop. 

After the walk, coffee and cake seemed like a good idea. The coffee shop turned out to be a stylish affair. The delicacies served up were quite adequate for people who'd skipped lunch and needed something to keep them going until dinner. 

Given the weather conditions, we weren't inclined to venture very far in search of dinner. A hotel located conveniently beside Kyoto Station meant there was no need to.

Like most operations in Japan's cities, the station encompasses a dizzying array of retail options, with a range of eateries covering most of the likely options of interest. 

If you're after Peruvian-Californian fusion food, you're probably out of luck.

But if you're looking to any of the variations on Japanese, along with Chinese, Korean, American, French, English or Italian, you'll more than likely find something that offers a Japanese take on your fancy.

As it turned out, Madam had done the usual research.

She pointed us towards a niche section of the restaurant options where, along with the French, Italian, Chinese and Japanese operations, there was a Spanish eatery. 

It delivered a quite tasty tortilla (the Spanish omelette rather than the Mexican cornbread wrap).

We also enjoyed a creamy seafood stew and a seafood paella that went rather well with a bottle of Spanish White.

There was still enough room for half a litre of Kirin that I from the vending machine when we got back.

Actually, figuring on the regular consumption pattern, I bought two, but there was definitely no room for the second. 

That, I reasoned, would do to celebrate reclaiming the Ashes the following afternoon.

© Ian Hughes 2017