October 27, 2009, Tuesday: Rise Before the Sunrise to a Vine Bridge

Tokushima-ken

I woke up at 5am and left at 5:50am. The place where I stayed at for the night, near Temple 3, drove me to the train station before sunrise. I bought a 4 day ticket to use the JR train unlimitedly in this island; it costs 20000 yen ($200). After that, my wallet has never been the same.

I got on the first train out of town to Ohboke to see Kazura-bashi. A bridge made of vine, it hangs above an emerald green river. To cross the bridge, which should be for free, costs 500 yen. It kind of pissed me off that Japan makes such natural wonders and temples a tourist commodity. Tourists desperately hold on and with every shaky step the bridge sways and shudders. You literally have to watch your step or you will most definitely fall through the wooden planks that are tied together with the vine. My whole foot could fit through the wide spaces. I tried to suck it up and just walk in the middle of the bridge without holding on to the handrail, but it was enough work just trying to hold the camera and keep it steady to take pictures. The water below the bridge was a beautiful emerald green color (as was all the water around this area as I saw from riding the train).
Then I went to see Biwa-no-taki, a 50m waterfall. I have never seen a waterfall before, and though it was nothing compared to Niagara Falls for sure, I wished I could take a dip in the emerald green pond below it. If only it was a bit warmer and less touristy.

I was misinformed that there would be a bus in a timely fashion that would get me to the train station so I could catch the next train out of town to visit a cave. That only happens during tourist season, and unfortunately this wasn’t tourist season. Luckily the tiny store nearby my walk to the vine bridge had a nice old woman who would call and ask the train schedules for me and call me a taxi. I paid $30 (3000 yen) for that 15 minute ride taxi. I was so pissed. I already paid $8.80 (880 yen) to get there by bus earlier.

As I was sitting on the train, I was contemplating why I came to this island, Shikoku. Why I liked the country so much more than a big city and came to a realization. Most people who live in the country, much more so than those who live in the city, stay in the country. It doesn’t work the other way around. But even if they leave the country, their house will most likely be in their family for years, maybe even generations to come. These people, then, would always have a place to call home, a home that belongs to them, not some coop that’s rented out monthly, but a place with a backyard and a garage and fresh air. These people always have a place to call home, somewhere calm, somewhere peaceful and quiet, a place where a home belongs. Coming from a big city, my home is an apartment, which we moved from 5-6 times within the past 20 years of my existence. In actuality, where is my home? It has become impermanent, intangible, a concept that might exist in my mind but nowhere else. My house, my home, is something I have created temporarily as a place where I can live, but I don’t own this comfort, at least not for long.

Even though the country is not my home, it brings me a sense of relief, a sense of tranquility that I only wish I could call my own.

October 26, 2009, Monday: Hello 88 Temples of Shikoku!

In the three hour bus ride to Tokushima, Shikoku from Kyoto (from my journal that I wrote it as I travelled):


10/26/09-12:02pm

The bus makes a stop for a 5 minute rest. There is nothing but ocean to the right. As the typhoon completes its course, the sky is a peach color—almost as if it is sun rise. The ocean reflects this welcoming sky with a misty pink. The slopes of the surrounding mountains are intricate yet beautiful and as the remaining mist floats above the mountain peaks I feel at peace.


10/26/09-roughly 1:00pm

Walked from Temple 1-3. It took about 2 hours in all. I took a train from the big city of Tokushima to the bandou train station and Temple 1 was very close by. I bought my gear and it all felt like a rush. The experience was a blur, beauty I took for granted because I was eager to get to Temple 4 or 5. I forgot temples close at 5:00pm and they prefer if no one came after 4:30pm. Yep, that’s the country all right for you. Next time I won’t let that stop me from going from temple to temple. I don’t need the stamp/signature of the priest to prove my worth (“trophy”) of the temple, I am here for the experience.

Walking through 1-3 was all highway and thru quiet neighborhoods that were populated with old fashioned houses that at most had a second floor. There were such few people and it was so quiet that I thought I was walking through a ghost town. I have decided to enjoy my trip rather than rush from temple to temple trying to get the “trophy.” I need to soak in the atmosphere and what good would rushing do if I am unable to accomplish just that?

As I packed up my henro wear (the outfit worn during the pilgrimage) in my backpack, tomorrow I will be a plain tourist.

October 24-25, 2009: The Bridge to Heaven

My Fall Break started by going to one of Japan’s ‘three great views,’ Amanohashidate, translated as the Bridge to Heaven. My host father drove for about 2.5 hours north of Kyoto city, felt like 4 or 5 because we took so many breaks in between to get lunch/etc. We stayed at a really nice hotel by the beach (and I was the guest of honor!) and I have wanted to swim for the longest, so we all brought our bathing suits and got in the pool for about 30 minutes. It was a shallow pool, but felt nice to get some exercise. Then we had dinner together, and drank some alcohol/beer. In the morning, they woke me up early to see the sun rise out of the ocean. It was beautiful. I only wished it was warmer so I could have swum in the ocean!

The ‘bridge’ of Amanohashidate is actually a long, narrow strip of sand covered with thousands of pines trees (8000 pine trees with hundred of different species) and surrounded on both sides with water. It is 3.5 km in length and at both ends is a ropeway with a beautiful view from above (one side much more heavily populated with tourists than the other). There was a cable car, but also a chairlift. I have never been on a chairlift and was a little anxious at first, but going down is definitely scarier than coming up. Although I was quite fearless, not holding on, squirming in my seat and waving like a 5 year old to my host mother and father, who were a seat in front and a seat behind me, my host father told me I should hold on tight. When we got to the top, the view was beautiful. I never could have imagined that nature could create something like it. I kept asking questions to my host family in Japanese like, “did that happen naturally?” or “did someone plant all those trees there or did it just happen?” and was surprised to hear that it’s a natural phenomenon. And here my appreciation for natural has developed even more so.

Ever since I’ve come to Japan, I have slowly developed an appreciation for nature that I’ve never had. I was such a litterbug in America, not caring about throwing garbage on the streets because I knew it was someone’s job to do it anyway, and no one really seemed to care (minus some of my OCD tree-hugging friends). In Japan, I never throw garbage on the streets, recycle, and because there rarely is a garbage can on the streets, I bring my garbage home with me. Who knew I would grow up into such a responsible adult! At home in Kyoto, I even separate my garbage. My host family doesn’t even dump the oil used to fry foods down the drain, and instead goes out of their way to spend money at the supermarket buying this white powder that makes oil into a solid substance, thereby creating it into a disposable substance that will not harm the environment. I have never heard of this before, do people even do this in America? Does this substance even exist in America?

Anyway, I kind of took a detour, but back onto my weekend. Anyway, seeing Amanohashidate from the top is breath-taking. But, there is this weird custom. Everyone bends over and views the bridge through their legs and it’s supposed to make Amanohashidate look like it’s ‘floating.’ Well, I had to try this, and I tried a couple of times and didn’t understand the whole floating idea. So I gave up and took a picture of my host mom performing this feat. We also all rented bicycles and roamed the bridge of Amanohashidate. It was a nice bicycle ride through the enormous pine trees. At the end of Amanohashidate is a huge temple and tons of little shops. We also went to a famous temple on top of a mountain nearby and the bus ride up was so rocky and curvy that I was literally smashed from one side of the bus to the other as we went up.

Earlier that day we took a boat tour to Ine, a village in between the mountains that makes their living by fishing. Each house is connected to the sea with a garage for their boats and it has been like this for hundreds of years (maybe centuries). I was surprised that people can live and flourish in such a seemingly desolate place.

My host family and I also fished together, and it was so easy to catch so many little fish. They were about 2-3 inches in length and we caught about 65. That night we fried the fish and ate them all. It was so fresh and tasty. I never ate fish that I have caught myself and felt quite proud of myself. I wanted to do it the next day, but we didn’t have time.

October 17, 2009, Kyoto Exclusivity: Tea Ceremony then the Moss Temple

Tea Ceremony at Urasenke:

Urasenke is the most famous of the 3 famous tea ceremony schools in Kyoto. No one can just walk in, you have to be cordially invited, or have some type of connection and make an appointment.

KCJS set it up so all the students can go for free and it was a wonderful opportunity. Sitting in a room full of women, most of which were Japanese, we were given a lesson in tea ceremony. The women spoke English and described the beauty of the tea ceremony materials. For instance, the cup/bowl that the guest of honor drank out of was a piece from the medieval period, specifically the Momoyama period, 1333-1568. It was a beautiful piece, especially because of the asymmetry of its shape and color. The table/stand that held the water that would be heated to make the tea was a stand of 3 levels. The top level was a circle, the middle, a triangle, and the bottom, a square, which represented 3 out of the 5 natural elements. The whisk that was used to stir the tea powder was made of bamboo. And the tea powder was used by crushing the whole tea leaf (this is normal). High class, expensive tea is made by crushing the leaf buds, the leaves that have just sprouted.

And so, as I sat with my legs underneath me, my ankles were buckling under the pressure of my butt. I thought my ankles were going to crack. I don’t know how my male classmate was able to sit that way. I had to readjust myself every so often. But it was nice to be able to enjoy the beauty of the cups and the delicate procedure of the tea ceremony.


The Moss Temple: 西芳寺（さいほうじ）:

So there is this really exclusive temple in Kyoto that you have to make a reservation at least a week in advance to pay $30 (3000 Yen) to get in. Sounds ridiculous, right?

So I didn’t really know what I was in for, but was excited to go. The Moss Temple is a Zen temple, of the Rinzai school sect. We got there a bit late because if you reserve with 6 people you have to wait for everyone in the party to arrive before you are allowed to enter. We each did our meditation, which consisted of writing kanji characters that filled a long page. The meaning behind the kanji was equivalent to a prayer (般若心経 = はんにゃしんぎょう= hannyashingyo). After you completed this, then you were allowed to write your name, address, and, if you had enough strength left, your wish. It took each of us about an hour or so, I think. I lost track of the time. It was strange, but as I was writing, all I could think of was happiness. There were instances where I couldn’t think of anything, even if I tried. I felt at peace. But, other times, I felt stressed because it felt like I was taking a test and running out of time, and as people were trickling out of the room I wondered what instructions were given in the beginning that I might’ve missed because our party was 20 minutes late.
After the meditation was complete, we were allowed to wander around the moss garden. There was over 120 different species of moss in the temple garden. It was beautiful. I have never thought of moss as beautiful in my life (never really thought of moss at all, actually), but here I was able to admire the fuzzy, little, green bits of life from every angle as I was surrounded by a soft, lush paradise.

People tell me that the temple charges this much because the moss is so hard to keep. Too much water and it will die, too little and it will dry from the sun and turn an awful brown. I don’t think I was supposed to touch the moss, but I couldn’t help myself. The most looked so soft and well kept, I bent down and caressed the luscious plant with admiration.

October 6, 2009: Looking for Happiness in a Far Away Place

Arashiyama
Arashiyama, temple and garden nearby.

I have been reflecting on these past few months.

During the Summer when I was in Hakodate, Hokkaido, I think I threw away some of my preexisting emotions for happiness. At the time I didn’t think about the ones I threw away. But for the sake of happiness, I threw away my negative emotions, and focused solely on the positive. I told myself it would be the only way I would be able to survive in a foreign world. Maybe it was a defensive mechanism. Truth is, every one has a bit of positive and negative energy/emotion. The ones who always seem happy are just good at hiding the bad. In NYC I lived in a darker world, one which that I called reality. To me reality was a pessimistic, cold world.

I came to Japan and developed a bright, new perspective on life itself. I challenged everything, especially myself, to experience what is novel to its upmost potential. I wanted to make the most out of my travels. What seemed normal to most Japanese people, and maybe just people in general, I accepted with enthusiasm and glee. Meeting people and living in a different language was a thrilling experience all on its own. The technique/skill of speaking itself felt novel and fresh. I felt like I was reborn with a new tongue.

I farmed for 2.5 weeks, and then travelled on my own for about a week. In that time span I probably grew the most. I gained a sense of independence, a sense of respect, a sense of thankfulness/appreciation. Looking back, even though I was alone for most of that time, and planned my trip day by day, I was the happiest then. I learned to be happy alone; to depend on no one but myself; to stand my ground, but also to let people in; to be intimidating, but inviting. I don’t know how that happened.

I don’t like depending on people. I have always been like this. But I somehow become vulnerable sometimes because of my human social nature. I know how to be alone now and sometimes it’s hard to be with others. But sometimes I feel the need to have friends. I started school and didn’t feel the need to be clingy and make friends. I watched everyone else hastily scramble to find their click and thought it was pathetic, but it somehow it worked for most people: kudos to them. The loners seem very mysterious, and the overly talkative ones seem a little too overbearing. It’s hard to find an in-between kind of person. But somehow, after a month, I sometimes feel lonely and wish I could have made a connection with certain people. Other times, I don’t care. Even so I feel like I don’t quite belong. It’s hard because I get to choose from only a limited group of people. Eh, I like being the odd-ball out.

Anyway, I grew this sense of appreciation and have finally realized how my grandparents, especially grandmother, worked so hard in every way possible to raise me and my sister. I finally understand her love. A lot of people, especially my host family in Kyoto, have told me what a fine job my grandma did in raising me. That makes me feel like less of a failure in life. And I’m sure will give my grandma some pride. This is why I decided, for the sake of my grandma, to travel to different temples around Japan to collect their seals (I am not sure what one would call it but the gist of it is that a priest from the specific temple will write the temple’s name and etc in beautiful calligraphy for a small fee). Now when I first bought the book to collect these seals, I thought it would be nice because even thought I couldn’t read it, my grandma could, and she might like it, and also she will know where I have gone, and maybe it will bring back happy memories of Japan. But, my host family in Kyoto told me that the book has more significance than that. People travel around Japan to collect the different signatures from each temple and when they die they bury it together with their body, in their tomb and the signatures act as holy prayers that send their body to heaven. My host family told me I am doing a great thing for my grandma, and she will be able to go to heaven as a result. Pretty funky ideology is what I thought. I pay each temple about 400-800 yen ($4-$8, but some places more) to get in (admission) to pay another 300 yen ($3) for the priests signature. At some places you don’t have to pay an admission fee. Going to heaven: priceless?! I basically will have paid about $200 for my grandma to get into heaven. Not including the transportation to get to the temples. That’s totally worth it right?

On another note, it’s nice to know that in a different country, in a different language, people can understand me, they can understand who I am. It’s hard to explain, but strangely enough, in my host family’s embrace, I feel accepted and actually loved. They call me their daughter, and joke around and call me their princess. My host mom occasionally gives me back massages and they pay extra close attention to my eating habits, the foods I favor, and my sometimes-subtle attitude (which I guess is not so subtle after all, especially for Japanese people).

I’m in Kyoto now, going to school everyday, and something is definitely lacking. Maybe it’s because I am stripped of my daily adventure, but I can’t wait until fall break at the end of this month when I can spend some quality time alone temple-hopping. I’m kind of glad that everyone else in my program will be going to Tokyo. Because I am going to Shikoku (an island South of Kyoto)! When will I get the chance to go to Shikoku in the future? And why go to the generic places? People did invite me to join them in going to Tokyo, but why would a big city girl like me go to Tokyo, one of the biggest cities in the world? My relatives brought me to Harajuku (in Tokyo) in the summer and I didn’t find it too impressive. All they have it stores galore.

To get back on the subject of happiness: I think the negative emotions that I threw away in the summer have finally caught up with me. I can’t suppress them. I thought I was just a happier person here, but everyone has some negative emotions. No one person is truly just filled with happiness. Maybe it’s because I’m homesick. I finally feel the distance from my friends and family. I feel depressed. I have to admit, I never really felt homesick in the summer, even when I was alone. But at long last, I feel the pain of homesickness. And it makes me physically and mentally sick. I feel debilitated. I’m stressed and it’s the cause of my stomach hurting so much I can hardly walk. I went on a mandatory school trip to Okayama (a few towns away from Kyoto) and felt homesick for Kyoto, but now I feel homesick for NYC. I can’t say exactly what I am homesick for, but I feel this negative ball of energy consume my inner joy, and feel nothing but exhaustion. I have been exhausted for about 2 weeks, and can’t seem to shake it off. No, I do not have the influenza virus, I know that much, but I don’t feel like myself. I just want to cry and sleep. Has the weariness of travels finally caught up to me? Or am I just getting old?

There are dark corners even in Kyoto. No matter where I go there are dark corners.

I don’t necessarily want to go back to the US, or maybe I do, but rather I’d be happier if the US came to Kyoto, Japan. Maybe it’s just that happiness comes from Hokkaido and Kyushu. Maybe that’s where happiness lies--in the countryside. Maybe happiness is in the good air of the countryside. Ah-ha! I got it: Maybe pollution is a depressant!

Now I sound crazy, don’t I? Or maybe just Einstein?

I never thought a long distance relationship would be so difficult. But, I miss my boyfriend so much. During the Summer I was so busy having fun and exploring to notice the suppression of my feelings for him. But now they can no longer be kept inside and I feel them boiling within. What I would give to hold his hand for just a moment. Not seeing him is killing me. I don’t even have a recent picture. He was my source of comfort when the world had me down. I actually feel lonelier in Kyoto surrounded by people now then when I was out in the world travelling alone in the summer. Maybe I am just having a bad day.

I think novelty was what distracted me from the sadness, and the loneliness. I left NYC for many reasons, but one of them was because I didn’t feel happy in NYC. I wanted to find happiness in a different place, and I thought I could find it a far away place, like Japan. I learned something valuable: Happiness is not where you are: you can’t drink happiness from a shrine’s magical water spring, or find it in an onsen. Happiness is not in a new city, new country, or new way of life. Happiness comes from the inside and maybe I can be happy wherever I am if I think of it in this way. Or maybe I’m too young to be truly happy.