Nara, one of Japan’s ancient capital cities and an integral part of the history of Buddhism in Japan, is a must-do on any foreign tourists itinerary, namely for one reason–the hordes of sika deer roaming about the park that houses a number of temples and shrines. Of course, most people make it a day trip from their base in Kyoto or Osaka, but I am not most people, and I was delighted to find an array of affordable hostel options, which made staying a couple of days quite enticing. It also helped that the transportation onward to Tokyo dropped significantly in price if I waited out the weekend.
These deer are lit
The hostel offers free breakfast, but certainly ranks as one of the stingiest free breakfasts available. Each guest is entitled to a single slice of toast–helpfully packaged and labelled individually–and a bit of margarine and honey as a topping. The hostel owners appear to be on the verge of cancelling breakfast due to negative feedback, but honestly any breakfast is better than none. Nevertheless, considering how cheap bread is, I don’t understand the impetus to not just provide a little bit more.
Of course, with free breakfast on the horizon, I really screwed up the interval fasting (aka Ramadan) because I can’t not eat free food (though I seem to be doing quite well at turning down free alcohol). I spent a few hours downstairs–much like Kobe there is virtually no activity in the hostel in the morning–before heading out for the day. I wore my hat and grabbed my walking stick, but left my backpack.
I did a loop around Nara Park, targeting the lakes over the deer where it is less crowded. I visited the main Shinto shrine (Kasuga Taisha) up in the “mountains” and followed some footpaths counterclockwise to pass by a number of Buddhist (sub)temples. It surprising to see how pretty much every temple/shrine has an entrance fee and for the most part I took a hard pass on shelling out all that money. Even a park that was basically just a grass lawn on a hill was protected by a fence with entrance tickets.
It was hot and the sun was strong, so when I reached that park (technically the area outside it where school children were picnicking among the lazy deer), I found a covered bench and laid down for a quick power nap. Carrying on, I got some free tea at a Buddhist compound that was open to the public before heading around to the main Buddhist temple–Todaiji. I shelled out the money to enter and was able to appreciate the giant Buddha statues inside the massive temple hall despite some crowds.
Not to scale
Like a salmon returning to spawn, I was heading against the current as the crowds surged towards Todaiji in the mid-afternoon. I went to the Nara National Museum and balked at the 1500 yen entrance price, opting instead to take a circuitous route back to the hostel–passing by Kohfukiji Temple–but not paying to enter the inner hall.
I bought salad in the supermarket and after hydrating for a bit, bought a discount ticket for the public bathhouse up the street as soon as the reception opened at 4pm. It was so hot outside, but I still like to go into the sauna. I couldn’t last long in there, but it was great. It was crazy how the entrance opens straight into the locker room with the front desk perched at the dividing wall between men’s and women’s sections. I’m starting to get used to old Japanese women seeing me naked, but its still a bit weird.
Bathed and cooled off, I hung around for the Cheers hour, chatting with the other backpackers as the filtered in for their free beer. While they ordered second rounds, I grabbed my salad and ate it. I had been thinking of going to a restaurant afterwards and entertained notions of getting a group together, but ultimately I grew bored of the company and just popped over to the supermarket to grab something more substantial from the deli section.
It was surprising to see the flock of vultures circling the boxed meals waiting for the discounts to be meted out and picking at the scraps of the day. I, myself, spent 20 minutes weighing options, ultimately buying some rice dish marked half-off, fried chicken, and a pack of cream puffs on sale. I ate them up in the back common room and I hoped for some quiet time alone, but eventually everyone else filtered in there.
I started researching and planning the rest of my trip in Japan amidst intermittent backpacker chatter. Still hankering for food, I ran across the street to get some chocolate cookies at the 7-11. When I finished them, I went to bed.
I bought the one day regional train pass because it would cost me about 1200 yen to get from Kobe to Nara (my next destination), but as I also wanted to see Himeji (which was in the other direction and costs over 900 yen each way), the 2300 yen pass would be well worth the savings. In order to maximize the value of my one day traveling bonanza, I made sure I was on the train to Himeji in time for the 9am opening of the castle.
Himeji
Himeji castle is probably the most famous castle in Japan and for good reason. It is impressive, reaching up to heaven from its perch on a hill like a Japanese version of Neuschwanstein. Appropriately enough it is nicknamed the “White Egret Castle.” The entrance ticket is a little pricey, but it takes a good 60-90 minutes to complete one circuit of the castle and its grounds. The only downside was the regular announcement over the loud speakers that the day’s weather was going to be excessively hot. It was good I got there just as it opened because tour and school groups were flooding in on my way out.
I sprung the extra 40 yen for the combo ticket including the next door garden. I was a little suspicious because the photos were rather lackluster, but the surprisingly large garden won me over by its charms. It was constructed as a collection of 12 distinct walled gardens, each perfectly crafted to highlight some theme be it pine, bamboo, or flowers.
After touring the garden, I decided to take a stroll along the moat of the castle to do a loop around the outside. It was good, though the “viewpoints” along the route (as marked by tourist maps) were unimpressive. I cut through the shopping arcade to get out of the sun on my walk back to the train station.
As I had the unlimited train pass, I decided to make a quick stop 3/4 of the way back to Kobe to get a good look at the Akashi bridge, which is something like Japan’s version of the Golden Gate Bridge. There is a seaside park with good views, but I didn’t feel like shelling out the cash to go up the the Maiko Marine Promenade, which is a viewing platform inside the bridge. I also passed on the Sun-yat Sen Memorial House which was a little pricey considering it was probably only in Japanese, and the house (a 100 year old building) only had a tenuous connection to the father of modern China.
The tallest bridge in Japan
I hopped back on the train to return to Kobe and returned to the hostel to grab my stuff. I took a minute to change into shorts because it was way to hot. I hopped on a train to Osaka, where I transferred to a direct train to Nara. It sucked how crowded the train was, which meant I was stuck standing in the doorway with all my luggage for the 45 minute ride. On the plus side, I was standing right behind the glass-windowed driver’s compartment, which allowed me to observe up close how to drive a train.
My hostel in Nara was literally right next to the train station and I rocked up at a perfect time to check-in. It’s a pretty good (and cheap) place to stay with a bar on the bottom floor, daily happy hour with a free drink, and decently sized dorm room that still manages to fit in a lot of capsule-style bunks. I crashed in the common room, but didn’t really have the energy to do anything, other than wait around until the 6pm cheers.
I popped over to a supermarket to pick up some salad for dinner (part 1) and socialized during the happy hour, only slipping away for ten minutes to scarf down the salad. Afterwards, on advice from one of the hostel staff, I went to a restaurant for oden, which is the general term for the boiled fish cakes (though I got a wide selection of tofu and radish and whatnot). The bar was still swinging when I got back, and I socialized a bit more. None of the Western backpackers had eaten dinner yet though it was maybe 8:30 by that point. I recommended an izakaya around the corner that looked like it had a big menu but didn’t join them as I had already eaten.
I plopped down at the bar to review a bit of Japanese, but got into a conversation with a fellow from Hong Kong. He was the second person from Hong Kong I’ve met in Japan and both of them were both absolutely floored that I could speak Chinese and was working on Japanese.
It kind of sucks to not be drinking (especially with the prospect of free and discounted alcohol), but I really want to keep the dry streak going a little bit longer.
I woke up around 5ish and drank a couple glasses of water and two cups of coffee despite it already being after sunrise. I’m willing to abide by a 7am cutoff to start the daily fast, but it would be pretty ridiculous to adopt the habit of waking up at 4am to eat a big meal then immediately going back to sleep.
I hung out in the living room for several hours, working on my stuff. I was surprised by how long it took before I saw any signs of life among other people in the hostel–as in, I basically didn’t see anyone until around 11am when I decided to finally head out for the day to see some of the city.
I took the subway over to the Shinkansen station, which sits right up on the foothills. Behind the station there is a path leading to a series of waterfalls. According the the plethora of area maps posted helpfully at every corner, there were also trails heading full on into the mountains to reach temples, reservoirs, and parks. After appreciating the waterfall a minute, and checking out some lookout points to see the city and the water, I followed a short (800 meter) trail along the hills to come down into another scenic section of town–“Kitano” (technically “north barbarian”)–where there is a cluster of historic buildings that were part of a foreigner enclave that developed in the city after it was opened up to foreign trade. To actually visit inside any of the half dozen buildings would have been prohibitively expensive, but I strolled about enjoying the views from the outside and people watching. I noticed a handful of Korean and a truckload of Chinese tourists in the area.
I was slightly grateful for the determination to fast because I could pass right by all the ice cream shops without the slightest wavering hesitation. I headed downhill to check out a Shinto shrine (Ikuta) that reportedly dates back to 201 CE. I was surprised to see it so tightly packed into an urban section, but it successfully transports one to a remote mountainside.
I followed some shopping arcades west for a while, taking a detour through Chinatown, which was jam-packed with eateries offering all sorts of sit down meals and street food. I blew right by all of them without even casually perusing pricing.
I continued my stroll through the town, aiming towards an area called Harborland. It is one of the bits of land that jut out into the harbor, housing a large shopping mall, a ferris wheel, and a children’s museum. I wasn’t interested in any of that, but I was looking for a statue of Elvis Presley, which I had seen marked on a map. Lo and behold, there really was one… for some reason. For the last part of my day-tour I went looking for another feature marked on the tourist maps, a drawbridge.
On the way, I got distracted by a bit of public exercise equipment. I did a set of 15 pullups. I did the math afterwards, and it had been exactly 2 weeks since I last ran across a pullup bar (in Matsuyama) and busted out a set. So, despite losing quite a bit of weight with all the walking and sporadic eating, I haven’t lost any strength.
Before reaching the drawbridge (which wasn’t particularly interesting, despite anchoring the narrative), a group of school children were attempting to fish a baseball out of the water. I watched them for a while as one boy tentatively perched on the rocky embankment and tried to snag it with a tree branch. Just as I decided to intercede and was gathering up a bit of rope that was just lying there, they solved their problem on their own. I think the opposite of a hero isn’t a villain or an anti-hero, but a schmuck. At least, that is how I felt as a slunk off.
By this point, I had walked most of the distance back to the hostel, so I finished the journey on foot, getting back around 4pm. I plopped down on a beanbag and rested a bit, before studiously poring over the area map with restaurant recommendations. Two hours before I could eat, but food was all I could think of.
A portly Japanese man entered the cafe, and I went to fetch a staff member to help him. He ordered a soda and sat down in the living room intent on having an interaction with foreigners, i.e. me. He didn’t really speak any English, but we communicated a bit through the help of translators and L, the Japanese-American staff member, who was in and out of the room (as she had other work to do as well).
About twenty minutes to sundown, I went over to the supermarket to get a fizzy drink and a salad. It took me far less time to do the food run, so I was stuck staring at it for about ten minutes before breaking my fast. Meanwhile, I chatted a bit with one of the fellows from the previous night.
I devoured the salad, then set out to get some restaurant food as a second course. There were tons of options, but most of the recommendations in the area veered towards barbeque, yakitori, or fried skewers. I cross-referenced for something truly unique to the area and found a reference to “sobameshi.” One restaurant was highlighted on the area map for that so I went there. It was a full teppanyaki place and I ordered my sobameshi (stirfried noodles and rice, basically) and a glass of water. The alcohol menu was tempting and everyone else in the crowded establishment was drinking. Grrr.. The food was a decent sized portion, but not enough for me, so after much thinking and perusal of the menu (with the help of a dictionary), I also ordered a savory pancake thing. It was a long wait, and I ate it as quickly as I could because I was starting to feel bad for occupying space while potential customers were waiting at the door.
I swung by the grocery store on the way back and picked up a traditional Japanese sweet (skewers with mochi balls). There was a large group of people (several from the sister hostel) hanging out on the balcony so I joined them for a while. Eventually, it was getting too chilly outside and the conversation died down as various folks wandered off to do whatever. So, I went upstairs to bed.
So that was what sleep could be. I had nearly forgotten the comforts of a bed, and a leisurely morning drinking coffee and working on my computer without worrying about internet timers or loitering. Around 6:30, I headed to a nearby udon shop to catch some breakfast. I had heard there would be a bit of a line, but I was still surprised to see how crowded it was. I know I am weird for waking up around 5 am every morning, but what the hell was wrong with the rest of these people? The line moved quickly and I had a split second decision to make about the size and style of my udon as well as what tempura I wanted to add on. Being better prepared this time (with a snapshot of an English language poster explaining the process and some various types), I managed to order in Japanese. I had citrus udon with two pieces of vegetable tempura. It was mindblowingly good.
I hurried back to the hostel to connect on Skype, and hung around for a bit. As I was getting ready to head out for the day, I remembered I needed to do laundry, so I was stuck there another hour while I ran a load. I also hand washed my jacket, which it occurred to me has never been washed since it was acquired in 2008. Needless to say, it had recently acquired a rank odor, and quickly turned water black with 11 years of accumulated grime.
My plan for the day was to head to Kotohira, a small town famous for the Shinto shrine of/on top of Konpira-san and the 800 something steps up the mountain. It was on the other side of the mountain from Zentsui-ji, which I had passed some days ago. I rode the Kotoden train to its terminus, passing the hour by intently reviewing Japanese on my phone and reading up on the travel guide. Arriving just before noon, I immediately sought out a udon shop that was recommended to me. The shop was pretty much empty and I had the kind of udon with a thin slice of fried tofu. I also opted to pay more for the thinner noodles as that was an option.
The town of Kotohira felt sleepy and deserted, but as soon as I reached the starting point of Konpira-san, it suddenly transformed into a bustling scene. The path was lined with shops hawking cheap plastic souvenirs and whatnot. Hundreds of tourists chittered about eating ice cream. I was glad I hadn’t made a detour over here on the pilgrimage as the atmosphere would have annoyed me. As I steadily climbed the steps, leaning heavily on my walking stick, the queerest observation was how every shop had “rental” walking sticks.
It was quite a climb to the top. Midway I stopped at the last available restroom, which like many of the remote temple bathrooms was both unisex and had a mixture of urinals and stalls. Because a family had been using the restroom as I walked up, I waited, despite the plethora of available urinals because it would have been tantamount to public exposure.
The end of the line
The temple was just a temple, and I opted to continue on the path an equal distance further up the mountain to the furthest shrine. I clambered all the way back the steps, and popped into a free museum that used to be a sake brewery to take a gander at the equipment and traditional process of production. As I hurried back to the train station, I realized I had missed the twice hourly train, but the wait passed quickly as I munched on an ice cream bar from a vending machine and continued to actively research destinations in Japan.
Storm clouds were rolling in from the south, and as I disembarked the train, the city of Takamatsu was coated by a gray blanket in the sky. It was still fairly early and I originally wanted to swing by a park near the station, but I decided it would be better to do so when it was sunny and nice. I didn’t want to risk getting caught in a sudden shower.
I stopped in a grocery store on the way back, buying curry, shredded cabbage, udon noodles, and cheese-katsu to make for dinner. Back at the guesthouse, I devoured the snacks I had purchased and within ten minutes prepped and ate my dinner. I went upstairs to lay down for a bit on the bed, getting back up around 7:30. I was hungry again, so I went out in the cold night to a convenience store for a large bag of potato chips. I collected my laundry (in case of rain), and spent some time researching accommodation and transportation, eventually settling a course for the next week.
Udon
590
Laundry
100
Kotoden train
600
Udon
550
Ice cream
140
Kotoden train
600
Groceries
600
Chips
204
Total:
3384 JPY (216.6 RMB) (USD 31.93)
*It’s funny how the one-day transportation passes are always just slightly more expensive than what I need. A one-day unlimited Kotoden pass was 1230 yen, but taking the train round trip was “only” 1200 yen.
My plan was to skip the islands of the inland sea, skip Okayama, and skip Himeji, opting instead to take the ferry directly to Kobe–the cheapest access to the Kansai region. As the only viable ferry was scheduled for 2 pm, I had the whole morning to continue exploring Takamatsu. I set off fairly early to visit the Ritsurin Garden, which was about a 30 minute walk each way, so I could have ample time to enjoy it and get back in time for a 10 am checkout. The garden was quite lovely, and being so early it was not crowded at all. I actually enjoyed the walk to/from the garden even more because Golden Week was finally over and I saw the rhythms of daily–packs of school children in their cute uniforms, crossing guards, commuters on bicycles, etc. I felt like letting go of your breath after holding it a long time.
The “best” view in the garden
Back at the guesthouse, I completely unpacked and repacked my stuff and was downstairs ready to go about 9:45. I was tempted to bust out my computer and do some work, but the owner came into the living room with his 4 year old son (It was a family run establishment, if I haven’t already mentioned it. It was sort of a duplex with half the house for guests and the back half for the owners). I said my goodbyes and headed off. I walked over to the same udon shop from the day before and got another bowl of udon, this time with sliced meat and a soft poached egg and accompanied with two pieces of seafood tempura. It was still amazing, but as I saw other people sit down with their food, I kicked myself for forgetting that I wanted to try the kind they were having (with a couple slices of butter, a raw egg, and a cup of soy sauce to mix in). C’est la vie. I can only eat five bowls of udon for five consecutive meals.
I walked with my luggage over to the city’s castle, which was housed in a park with a paid admission (grr). There really wasn’t much to see in the park, but I did find a nice shaded pavilion in one of the gardens to hang out in for an hour to do some writing. While wandering around the grounds a bit, I got a text from M in Seoul informing me it was the first day of Ramadan.
Ancient and modern
I’ve always wanted to try doing the month-long fast, but man oh man, does it feel like bad timing. I’ve only had one day of proper eating after 9 days of scrounging vegetarian food from grocery and convenience stores. I’ve only had alcohol the first day in Japan and I was looking forward to visiting some Izakayas (Japanese pubs) or buying a bottle of reasonably priced Japanese whisky.
Still having time to kill and a need for an internet connection, I popped into a 7-Eleven and had a coffee. Afterwards I wandered over to the bus stop where I could catch the free shuttle bus to the ferry terminal. I sat there about half an hour, charging my phone in the sunlight as I played some Japanese learning games.
The shuttle bus, the ticket hall, and the ferry boarding blew by so easily, I’m surprised more people don’t travel that way. It was a really nice ship with plenty of choices for where to sit or lay down. I took a booth with a table and a view out the front window and spread out. Over the four hour ferry ride with a decent wifi connection and power outlets, I got a lot done. The ship stopped briefly at one island en route (Shodo-shima, which is famous for its olive groves and a traditional soy sauce factory).
I really, really love taking a boat to reach each of Japan’s four main islands. It keeps one grounded in the notion that Japan is an island nation–a fact I think one can forget if one travels exclusively be JR pass. Like Nagasaki, each of the coastal cities (which blended into one another) was wedged in the kilometer deep space between the sea and the mountains.
The sun was setting as we pulled into Kobe. There was a shuttle bus to the main train station, but I decided to walk the twenty minutes rather than pay 240 yen. It was actually a really pleasant walk, and it felt weird to be back in a big city–tall buildings, shopping arcades, department stores, tons of people everywhere. It took me a while to find the right train to get over to my guesthouse because there was a combination of rail station and subway station with 5 or 6 distinct lines. A shudder of dread passed over me as I imagined how confusing Tokyo will be and how utterly unhelpful Google Maps is at sorting out these granular differences.
Nevertheless, I found the right line, and popped off the train a short walk along a Pachinko/slot concentrated arcade to the hostel. The whole area has a smell of cigarettes and beer. One could even say its a bit seedy. The hostel itself is in an old and creaky building, but there is plenty of public space to spread out and it is relatively cheap. It is good to have company again. I ended up playing Uno with a combination of short-term guests, long-term guests, and volunteer residents.
By the way, apart from the one coffee, I did go all the way until sundown before having anything else to eat or drink. I might actaully need this nudge towards discipline because my life on the henroad built up some bad habits of donuts and snacking. We’ll see. There seems to be so much to eat.
I was awake at first light. I packed up quickly and hit the road. The overnight rest did not do much to mitigate the pain, tiredness, and exhaustion, but I was able to move a little bit faster.
As soon as the sun cleared the horizon, I busted out the solar charger and started the slow process of recovering my phone power. It was a good hour long walk to the first temple of they and I came across a convenience store about 2/3 of the way there. I stopped for a quick bite to eat, standing in the parking lot before pushing on the final distance.
It was just after 7am when I reached Ichinomiya-ji (83). I dropped my stuff next to a familiar backpack and looked around to find the German guy. I explained what happened to me last night hoping for some sympathy. I got none. He had made it all the way here on foot yesterday after closing and camped out at a temple next door, where quite a few people also stayed.
When I collected my stamp and the Noukyosho office, the calligrapher gave me a little osettai (rock sugar?), creating a symmetry with the first temple of the first day (where I was given a handful of chocolates). I wandered south of the temple to find the Kotoden rail station and save myself the 5km trek into town. At the Hanazono station, I hopped off and hobbled over to the guesthouse I had booked. I had emailed the owner about dropping off my stuff in the morning, and he was in the living room chatting with some guests when I showed up. He actually checked me in at 8am, and I got rid of everything (including my computer for the first time) before heading back out the door.
It was a pretty long walk to the next temple, which was on top of another mountain (Yashima–which means “roof island”). En route, I swung by a 7-Eleven to grab a 2L bottle of water and a package of peanuts. I would have preferred a supermarket or drug store, but it was still too early for any of the ones I passed. The road up Yashima was busy with hikers and joggers. I met a little old lady and walked with her the final stretch up the hill. The conversation was limited, but I learned this was her 500th time up Yashima (in 10 years). Towards the top, there was a little box with a folder inside where locals could put a check mark next to their name. A bulletin board listed the climbing records of about a hundred people participating in this community activity.
The namesake Yashima temple was quite nice, and it had a garden section I did NOT visit because it entailed an entrance fee. The sun was high in the sky and bright and the views of the city from the tabletop plateau were quite breathtaking.
It’s so far away
The next temple was on a neighboring mountain, which meant I had to climb all the way down (the onward path) walk 40 minutes across, then head back up. On the way, I passed a very famous udon restaurant (recommended by the LP). Being nearly noon, I thought I might pop in for a quick bite. I was mistaken. The place was packed. So I carried on. In order to save time and energy, I took the funicular up the second mountain (enjoying a half price ticket as a foreigner). I didn’t spend too much time on top of that mountain either, completing the rituals in a perfunctory manner and taking a minute at a lookout point.
Taking a shortcut in style
I rode the funicular back down and swung back by the restaurant, assuming the lunch rush was over by 1 pm. It was even more packed. I saw the hostess had about six sheets in her hand, I counted roughly 100 people milling about the courtyard (it was a really old, traditional building). Giving up, I headed down to the Kotoden rail station to take another shortcut. On the way down, I realized there was a queue of maybe 50 cars waiting to get into the parking lot of the restaurant. Holy fcking cow, this is insane. Most of the cars were from different cities on different islands. These people had driven all the way here (or were here anyways on holiday) just for these noodles.
It was a good thing I bought those peanuts because they were able to tide me over. I rode the train over and visited my penultimate temple. Shido Temple (86) was quite interesting in that the grounds were basically an overgrown forest. It was a jungle maze trying to find the different temple halls. The Noukyosho office gave me an osettai (a pin). Outside the temple’s main gate, I paused to look at the map and was given a bottle of tea by a woman who had been sweeping up. Wow, so many offerings in the last day.
I had about a two hour walk (given my slowish pace) to reach the final temple, but as I had saved some energy, I knew I could make it. I stopped at the last convenience store for an iced coffee and chocolate pound cake before crossing the expressway and going back into the rural countryside. As I was still walking along the highway (before cutting down on the scenic route among farms), I received my final osettai from a man who was just driving along with his dogs in his car.
Planting season
It was probably the best walk yet with beautiful scenery. I could see the distant mountain peaks behind which lay the 88th temple that I was not going to visit this time. There were a couple of rest stops on the way, but I needed to pee and I hurried along. I reached Temple 87 (Nagao-Ji) about 4pm. It was spacious and dusty. A group of (French?) cyclists were milling about acting like tourists. I completed my final ritual and said goodbye to the pilgrimage.
The terminal station of one of the Kotoden train lines was right there and the train had just arrived as I was walking up. The station agent beckoned me to jump straight on without stopping for a ticket (otherwise I would have either delayed the train or missed it).
I was back in the guesthouse before long. I took a long shower, put on clean clothes, and consulted the owner about dining options. Being Sunday, a lot of places were shut. Still wanting udon, I took his advice to walk about 20 minutes to a place that kept long hours and was popular among people as a place to sober up. It was basically empty and extremely confusing because I didn’t know there was a whole culture/process to ordering udon and was utterly unprepared.
I devoured the bowl (topped with meat and a raw egg) in maybe three or four bites and was still ravenously hungry. I swung by a convenience store on the way back for some dessert. I chilled in the living of the guesthouse for a bit, just relaxing and observing. Most of the guests, only a handful at this point (the last night of the Golden Week), were Japanese, but one Taiwanese guy came in. It was weird. He was taking a three day trip just to visit two of the art islands (side note: several of the small islands between Shikoku and Honshu are full of art museums and outdoor art works). Between the flight, the ferry, the museum tickets (including making reservations to enter the museum), and accommodation on the little island during the triennial art festival, it seems like quite a lot. I had considered visiting one of the islands on my way, but hearing about it in more detail really turned me off the idea.
Despite sleeping comfortably in a windowless room, I did not sleep in. I was fully awake by 5 am, and not wanting to linger in a room, which must have 70 or 80 people snoozing away, I headed out to the lobby area. People were camped out sleeping in every corner, but a few souls were roaming about like zombies. The restaurant service wouldn’t kick in until 7am and I didn’t want to wait around that long for a cup of coffee so I headed into the men’s locker room to change. The baths themselves were closed for the night, so I didn’t even have the option of a quick soak before hitting the road…not that I would really want to.
I had briefly contemplated doing a bit of laundry in the sink and making use of the little machine that just runs a spin cycle, but it didn’t really seem worth the effort. I headed to the front desk dreading a huge bill, but it turned out to be exactly what I had been quoted at the Muragame tourist information desk. I happily paid, collected my luggage, and headed out into the refreshing pre-dawn glow. I needed some breakfast and internet time (having opted not to hang around the onsen using their free Wi-Fi), so I wandered over to a Lawson’s only to find they had no tables. I rounded the corner to a McDonald’s surprised to find it didn’t open until 8am. I haven’t had any Western fast food yet in Japan. Sure, I’ve eaten tons of donuts and breads and various pastries, but no McDonald’s, KFC, or even a Starbucks yet.
The third time was the charm and the 7-Eleven had a seat where I could get a bit of work done as I fueled up the metaphorical tank. Planning out the route for the day, I had one temple in this town, two more along the main trunk line, then two up in the mountains. I would have to exercise some creativity in arranging the schedule so that I could end up in Takamatsu (my ultimate destination) at the end.
Thought the Lonely Planet recommended this town (Utaze) as an off the beaten track destination, I didn’t see anything special in the buildings around the temple. I followed the path along in the bring morning sunshine, passing plenty of shopfronts that advertised free services for henro (though all we shut — either due to the holiday or the early hours). I came across another Henro hut that was little more than a bus stop on the side of the road and sat down for a minute. As it was 9am and the drug store was just opening, I decided to pop in for a little snack. Drug stores in Japan tend to be rather comprehensive in their offerings. The chains you find in the shopping arcades have really good prices on the selection of snacks, and this one–a big box retailer–was more like a Walmart in terms of having a bit of everything, including fresh produce, home appliances, sports equipment, etc. I commented to myself that it would have been a good place to start when preparing for this trip and I resisted the urge to see what they had in terms of camping gear.
I carried on to the next temple, which happened to have a train station near by. I had pretty good timing when I was done to hop on a train and save me 6 km en route to the next temple, which was also really close to a train station. On the train, I booked accommodation for the end of the pilgrimage and found a free Henro House (they typically charge guesthouse prices) in Takamatsu. I registered an account and made a reservation to stay there that night. I had about 8 or 9 temples left, the end of the Golden Week was around the corner, accommodation could be booked again (!), so it seemed like I was pulling into the final stretch of the pilgrimage.
Kokubu-ji (the second temple of that name) sat on a fairly large ground. Above it in the hills (or technically a plateau) were the next two temples. Seeing them in person, the mountain didn’t seem so high, and it was a mere 7km distance to either one. Compared to the distance and height of the trek up to Temple 60, I reckoned I could get up and back in about 5 hours. It was only 11am, so I could ideally be on the train into Takamatsu around 4pm, where I was expecting to check-in to a free sleeping place between 4 and 6.
I left my suitcase out of sight, just behind the main gate of the temple, and also took as much dead weight out of my backpack as I dared. I filled up my thermos from the bathroom sink (gross), and set off. The initial stretch headed upwards through the farmland and snaked around some reserviors. Eventually the foothill turned into the waist of the mountain and the trail got steep, real steep. After fully drenching my clothes in sweat, I paused to strip down to my undershirt. Eventually the trail flattened out after a climb of about 400 meters. There was a fork in the road, left for one temple, right for the other. I took them in order. Each temple was about 2.5 km from the central spot, so I figured it should be pretty quick. It wasn’t. There was still quite a bit of up and down and I was tired from both the day and the accumulated exertion of a week of walking. The temples were nice, but I was on the clock and hurried along at every opportunity. I bumped into the German guy again on my way to the first temple. I didn’t even ask where he found to sleep the previous night.
Just before the second of the two mountain top temples (Negoro-ji), I saw the fanciest Henro hut yet. It had a screen door and a loft! That would have been really nice to stay in, other than the necessity of preparing food and water. On the way back, I Japanese man eating an ice cream in a shop (okay, so I guess one could buy some supplies up on the plateau) waved me over, whipped out his phone, and spent 5 minutes trying to get his Google translate app to work. I was pretty sure he was asking “Where are you from” as he repeated himself over and over. It was rather amusing, and I patiently waited because I think he wanted an excuse to work the technology. Eventually, he just started guessing country names, and the last bit of doubt about his intention was removed. The problem with being American in Japan is that “America” is just “America.” It requires no nuance of Japanese knowledge to say.
My feet really hurt on the way down, but I couldn’t let up. It was already well past 4pm, and my new timeline was to get back to the temple and get my stuff before 5 pm–the closing hour. As I pulled up to the temple, I found that the gates were shut. I wasn’t imagining that they would lock up. There was a groundskeeper guarding the gate, allowing the worshipers still inside to filter out. He tried to wave me away, but I kept trying to explain in broken Japanese that my bags were inside. He relented and I quickly grabbed them and headed right back outside. Checking my watch, it was only 4:55.
I caught a train into Takamatsu right away, and it was only a 15 minute ride. However, my new problem was that I had specified a 4-6 pm estimated arrival window. Once I found a 7-Eleven to buy water (I was sooo thirsty) and get some internet (because my cellular data had been acting funky), I realized it would take me an hour to reach the Henro House. I needed to call them to let them know I would be late, but (a) I only have data, no calling and (b) the listing explicitly said they don’t speak English. I went over to the tourist information desk to ask for help. A couple of ladies were in the midst of a long conversation at the English language desk, but there was a free agent at the Chinese language desk.
I calmly explained the situation and asked if he could call the number indicated in the confirmation email. He decided to read the email, tell me he had never heard of the “hotel,” attempt to search for it on Google Maps, then tell me I should take the city tramway there. I had already figured out that I could take a bus which would drop me off very close. He pulled out a tram schedule and showed me there was one leaving in 5 minutes, so I rushed off to the tram station without him ever calling ahead. At the tram station, I bought a ticket and realized that (a) that the tram would leave at the same time as the bus (also twice hourly) and (b) that it would be a 3 kilometer walk from the closest tram station. I was furious at the utterly unhelpful Chinese guy working the information desk. (I could tell from his accent that he was actually Chinese.)
I gave up on the tram and decided to take the bus, even if it meant eating the tram ticket cost. To my surprise (and the ticket checkers when I attempted to leave), they refunded my money. The bus stop was right there and the bus came along in a couple of minutes. I was back out in the countryside in thirty minutes. I hopped off the bus and dragged myself along the road in the sunset looking for the henro house. None of the buildings had street addresses posted, and I passed right by it expecting it to have some kind of henro marking on it. I only found it by the location in Google Maps and confirmed by the photos on the website.
No one was home. Was it because I was 40 minutes after my arrival window or some other reason? My phone was down to 15% and though I had a phone number to call, I had no way to do so. After standing on the street some number of minutes, hoping someone would come along and rescue me. I dropped my stuff on the back porch, and hobbled over to the nearest convenience store to scrounge up some food and think. (I hadn’t eaten since 9am). The convenience store (a Daily Yamazaki) didn’t have wifi or a public payphone that I could see. My final plan, which seems to be typical for me, was to just suffer it out. I took out my contact lenses, brushed my teeth, and went back to the house.
I suppose there was an outside chance that someone would be there at this point. If not, then there would be no harm in sleeping in the backyard. Concrete is a lot harder than a wooden bench, but I’ve been getting used to the misery.
The good news is that there was a Family Mart with indoor seating close to my sleeping place, so at first light (roughly 4:30 am) I packed up and headed over there for a taste of civilization. By this point, I had figured out how to handily circumvent their Wi-Fi limitations (FM gives you 3 20-minute sessions per day, the other two major chains give you 2 1-hour long sessions). Essentially, I cleared the cookies on my computer and used a second email address, allowing me up to an hour of computer internet time and an hour of phone internet time.
It was well after 7am by the time I hobbled over to the first temple for the day. Zentsui, the eponymous town which grew around a major temple and supposed birthplace of the guy who started this whole 88-temple pilgrimage thing over 1100 years ago, is small and densely packed with temples. So, I had a busy morning. I dumped my luggage and headed half a click up the hill to the next temple, which I later learned had been moved down into the valley when it had previously sat some 500 meters above on a steep cliff.
Swinging back into the first temple to grab my suitcase, I saw a familiar backpack, and stopped to chat a few moments with the German guy. Apparently, a Japanese man saw him walking along and invited him to stay the night at his home, prepared a special vegetarian dinner for him, and drove him there in the morning. WTF. Pro-tip for doing the pilgrimage. Don’t talk to anyone else unless you enjoy dealing with the feelings of deep unfairness in the universe.
I dragged my stuff along to the next temple, and took a somewhat longish route (properly following the walking signs) to the namesake temple. Zentsui-ji is enormous occupying two city blocks, either of which would make for an enormous temple. The grounds were overrun by tourists, and hawkers lined the alleyway between the two campuses, selling roasted octopus, fried chicken, and ice cream. It was a total circus, and I started looking around for money changers to whip. I ran into the German guy again at this temple. Of course, he would catch up to me as I walk so slow.
It was still fairly early, but I swung by a supermarket to get a cheap lunch on the way to the last temple in the town. I ate on a bench outside the supermarket and enjoyed a sugary iced latte from a bottle. After the next temple, there was a long walk to my final temple of the day. Just before I reached it, a little old man called out to me from his home to stop me and hand me a little clay figurine making the prayer gesture. I got the sense that he spends his afternoons perched at the front window watching for henro.
Looking over my resources on the walk, I knew of a pilgrim hut in the next town over (Muragame). It was another fairly longish walk away, but getting there would situate me to possibly do a little sightseeing in the morning before continuing on (there was a well preserved city castle and a museum dedicated to paper fans). However, as I pulled into town and found the hut, I was disappointed by the prospects of sleeping there. Firstly it was right on the road, more like a bus stop bench than a partially sheltered space. Secondly, there were two old men sitting on each of the benches. One was listening to a radio through headphones. The other, clearly a homeless man, drinking a small bottle of shochu (alcohol). This was the first place that felt like a city since I had left Matsuyama, and I couldn’t count on the just leaving my stuff unprotected. Perhaps I was a bit biased, but I also worried about how safe it would be to sleep there.
So, I took a walk around town, deciding to look for somewhere else, possibly indoors to sleep. I inquired at one hotel and balked at the 9000 yen price. Heading to the train station to ask at the tourist information desk, I bumped into another henro who was stuffing a bag into a coin locker. He didn’t really speak English and whatever Japanese I had learned prior to starting the pilgrimage was basically burned up by the exertion of walking so many days. Nevertheless, I conveyed that I had nowhere to sleep and he was determined to help me. We went to the tourist desk together and asked. It was Friday night and Muragame was hosting a festival involving the castle over the weekend. That explained the renao (bustling crowds) I saw when I looked down the street heading to the castle. Eventually, they recommended I go on to the next town and sleep in an onsen there. I had actually seen an advertisment for the onsen (in English) at the last temple. Apart from holidays, they offer a special rate for henro.
Welcoming the opportunity for a bath and indoor sleeping, I took the train one stop, hobbled over to a grocery store, and ate a huge meal. I was able to charge up, and spent a bit of time reviewing Japanese. Towards the end of my meal, a middle aged man handed me a bottle of tea as an osettei.
The onsen wasn’t far away, though it was dark by that point. It was very crowded. I left my walking stick in the umbrella stand, put my shoes in the shoe locker, and went up to the counter. The giant boards explaining the pricing in Japanese confused the hell out of me, and the guy who checked me in neither spoke English nor pulled out anything written in English to show me. Fortunately, I had gotten a coupon from the Muragame tourist info desk, and handed that over. I was given towels, pajamas, a toothbrush, and razor, and they took my suitcase off my hands. I wasn’t able to confirm the price at the time, so I was worried I would end up getting nickled and dimed (except with 100 and 500 yen coins!).
The baths were very nice. The highlight was a pool with Chinese medicine, and the sauna (which closed early) had a guy working inside fanning people to encourage more sweating. There were also a carbolic acid pool and an electric current pool, so I guess those aren’t as rare and unique a thing as I thought. I soaked well, but was conscious not to over soak my feet because the worst thing that could happen would be to break open all my foot blisters. After bathing the second time and shaving, I got ready for bed and explored the two floors of common space to check out the sleeping situation.
Some premium areas required an extra charge, but mostly it was a free-for-all across three or four rooms. One room had recliners, two rooms with sliding doors had mats. Generally speaking, everyone checks in, grabs all the blankets, a couple books from the manga library and reserves spaces before the bathe. I was stuck with pretty much nothing. I found an employee straightening up the sleeping spaces (in order to squeeze my people in to rows on the floor eventually) and asked about blankets. He got me a set, and I laid them down on a floor and went to sleep. I was lucky I always travel with my own pillow. It was very warm at first, but cooled off in the middle of the night. Nevertheless, it felt like a real luxury compared to my previous week.
Wow, I really ate a lot that day. I started the day out with a donut (as usual at this point), but supplemented with a banana, orange juice, and yogurt to be a little healthier. At lunch, I had some rice balls and a combo tray of kimchi (a little sweeter in Japan than Korea) plus a big chunk of steamed cake. For dinner, I went hog wild on the discounted items, picking up everything 20-30% off: curry rice, a package of three mixed vegetable croquettes, a green smoothie, a salad, and some sort of chocolate chip butter roll for dessert.
I felt pretty good in the morning despite my critically low phone charge and no immediate prospects of getting it charged. The plan was to leave most of my stuff in the hut to visit two temples on the coast then swing back by to pick it up on the way to the third temple. I headed over to the Family Mart to grab a coffee and a sports drink, and drank those crouch outside (because still no tables). The sun came out, and I quickly busted out my solar charger and loitered there, eating my breakfast and using the internet while gaining critical battery power.
Bodily and mentally charged for the day (I had missed two days of Duolingo because of the convenience store situations), I walked the half hour over to Kanon-ji (the town’s namesake temple), bumping into the German guy on the way and walking together. We had our own morning routines, he went over to the Lawson’s to check his email while I was at the Family Mart studying Japanese for 15 minutes. For being a combo of two temples, it still really only felt like a single temple. After checking them off the list, I climbed to the top of the hill to get a look at the sea and the giant sand sculpture of a coin on the beach. It may have been the morning light or the rain from the last few days, but the sculpture looked a little washed out.
I headed back east wearing my backpack on the front to maximize exposure of my solar charger to the bright sunlight. After not seeing the sun for a few days, I welcomed the UV (but still slathered on some sunscreen). I grabbed my stuff from the Henro hut and proceeded onward to the next temple. About a block before reaching it, I took a small detour into a supermarket, which had a corner “cafe” of tables, and had an early lunch in the air conditioning. Afterwards, I visited Motoyama temple, which was surprisingly crowded, and proceeded over to the namesake train station to take a shortcut. It was getting quite hot by this point, but the sunlight had fully charged my phone, so I was grateful for that.
To get a local train to my target station would have required waiting two hours, so I hopped on the limited express train to the station before it. I still saved roughly half the distance, but had a long two hours of trudging north in the heat. Along the way, I passed by a house where an elderly couple were seeing off a friend. They called to me to stop and after a brief chat, gave me a bottle of tea as an osettai. I thanked them profusely and carried on. When I reached a crossroads marking the paths for the next two temples, I decided to deposit my suitcase at a quiet Shinto shrine. The next temple was well up a hill which would be a very tiring climb without any baggage. In fact, there was a staircase of a 108 steps, for which the temple is somewhat famous.
I bumped into the German guy again and was impressed how quickly he could travel on foot when I skipped kilometers at a time by train. Of course, my detours to pick up luggage and go to train stations add quite a bit of distance and I noticed my general pace was a measly 3 km per hour. On my way down from the temple, there was a very busy michi no eki with an attached onsen and park. I contemplated stopping there for the night, but being only 3 pm, I decided to move on to the next town.
Taking the roadway as opposed to the over the mountain footpath, I had some extra distance to cover, but I had no choice. As I was dragging the suitcase along the highway, I figured out a way to use the bungee cord to attach it to my backpack to provide some assistance and redirect nearly half the work to my frame as opposed to one arm.
On the other side of the mountains, I came across another small rest area, basically just a single bench with a roof, but otherwise reclaimed by the surrounding flora. A largish Family Mart was only a block away along the highway. Not being an optimal spot to stop, I carried on, hoping to find something nice closer to the next pair of temples. I failed to turn where I should have (being distracted by the road signs for drivers), and ended up near a public park. It was a nice park, and I would have stopped there except for the very prominent locking gate. After a brief rest and a bit of inspection, I verified that it locked up at 6pm, making it untenable. I swung by the next temple, reaching it after it was closed. I had no idea where to sleep, and was sitting around waiting for someone to rescue me, but no one came. A monk went about his duties cleaning up the candles and incense from the day, a couple of henro strolled in late, did their rituals, then rushed off to the next temple.
I decided to backtrack to the Family Mart and get some food. I supposed I lucked out because the Family Mart actually had seats, so I could chill their for a couple hours eating and eating. After dark, I went back to the little bench on the intersection of two highways, shooed away the ants, used a wet wipe to brush away the dirt and godknowswhat, laid down my picnic blanket tarp, and did the best I could to not expose any skin to the open air. It was a rough night.
I seem to be adjusting to sleeping rough, as I seem to sleep better each night. Or at least, I’ve learned to put on enough clothing to stay warm through the night. Since I needed to charge my phone, which was under 30% at this point, I decided to take a minor detour to swing by a different Family Mart in the morning. Still no tables. I was standing in the doorway drinking my coffee and got kicked out because if there are not seats you are forbidden to consume products on the site. The attendant told me to use a bench outside, which was wet from the rain.
The next temple was still some distance away and at an elevation of 400 meters. The one after it was the highest in the circuit at an elevation of over 900 meters. I knew there was no way I could make it 19 km and scale a cliff with my karma weighing me down, so my only hope was to hitch a ride from the parking lot of temple 65.
The forecast said there should be a window of rain between 9 and 10, but by 7am it was alternating between a drizzle and a light rain. My Google Maps was acting up again (sometimes it stops accessing the Google servers on the data connection), and I ducked under a highway overpass to wait out the rain for a bit. I laid down my plastic picnic blankets, sat down and plugged my phone into my computer to try to get it from 18% to something sustainable for the day. When my phone passed 50%, I ventured back out into the wet and trudged uphill past cemeteries and farm houses.
I seemed to have a bit of luck as I was gaining plenty of elevation on decently paved roads suitable for dragging along the rolling suitcase. Even when the path for walkers and drivers diverged it was still mostly paved. As I followed a path along the inside of a jungle ravine and reached a bend where I’d have to clamber up some number of steps, a van came barreling up the footpath. It failed to make the turn due to a combination of mud patches and a little ditch across the road for some piping. After several attempts, the driver decided to back up into the cliff wall where his right tires got stuck in the gutter. I watched him push against the wall with his arm as he tried forward and reverse in an attempt to free himself. He climbed across the van, out the passenger side, and pulled a large metal pipe from the back in an attempt to lever the van back onto the road. For the record, I was making efforts to help during this entire ordeal, but at this point, I grabbed the pipe, put my back against van and pushed in two directions with enough force to let the tire catch the road and propel the van forward. Unlike in the sitcoms, I did not land in a puddle of mud or get a mud shower as the van peeled out. I did notice that I was in a swam of mosquitoes for the entire show.
Van free, the driver decided to carry on to the temple on foot with me hobbling behind at some distance. The signage on the path pointed one way, but my map indicated another direction. As one direction was a narrow dirt footpath and the other partially paved, I trusted the map. It became increasingly less paved, and entered the forest where the trail gradually became overgrown and full of wicked spirits. I persisted nevertheless. As I started hauling myself and my luggage over tree roots and through bushes full of spiders and centipedes, I gave up all hope of staying remotely dry or clean. The rain had subsided, but water was on every leaf waiting to smear me. The last 50 meters were a veritable nightmare, a scene from a war movie where the soldiers attempted to make it up a steep muddy hill. I emerged from the last scramble on the road, some 500 meters left to the temple. I proceeded to drag my suitcase along and as I pulled in the parking lot I noticed that the two main wheels had finally bitten the dust. Well, this is going to be a problem, I thought to myself.
I went straight to the bathroom, took off my white ceremonial robe and gave it a quick wash in the sink which had an automatic faucet and no plug. I wrung it out and put it back on. It didn’t matter that it was wet. I was already wet and the rain had started up again. After performing my rituals, I climbed down the stairs to the parking lot, which had at least 5 or 6 cars. I let a couple of people get into their cars and drive off as a I screwed up the courage to pounce. I approached an elderly couple in full henro gear and asked for a lift. They welcomed me, and I laid my tarps across the backseat of their Prius to minimize the amount of dirtying it.
The ride to the next temple, or I should say the cable car to the next temple, went quickly. It was a steep price for the cable car, but there was a significant discount for foreigners. What a pleasant surprise. Temple 66 (Unpen-ji) was pretty amazing and completely engulfed in clouds giving it an otherworldly look.
I got a ride from the same couple back down the mountain to the next temple, where I insisted on parting ways and let them speed their way through the next couple of temples while I continued on foot. Having to deal with my suitcase again and being about 5 km from a possible henro hut was not a great situation. After a couple of iterations, I found out I could drag the suitcase backwards on its still functional two front wheels. It’s a bit more awkward, but otherwise workable solution, though I do not know how long it will last.
Getting into town and nearing where I thought the hut would be, I popped into a supermarket for some water. I noticed that the supermarket had a bench with a large sign in English (only) saying “No Eating”. What the hell is wrong with this part of Shikoku? Is there some anti-pilgrim agenda making it impossible to eat anywhere? I couldn’t find the hut, and eventually went to Lawson’s (with no seats) to log into the Wi-Fi to find it on the map. I must have walked an extra 3km looking for that thing. The hut was circular shaped, making it less than ideal for sleep, but I had little choice.
I dropped my stuff and hobbled back to the supermarket to get some food. If I have to eat outside, I might as well not pay convenience store prices. On the way, I bumped into a German guy I had briefly encountered on top of the mountain. (He really moved fast). I asked him where he was going (the same hut), and suggested he grab food from the supermarket first. I bought a lot of food, enough for dinner and breakfast.
I took a bench and he blew up an air mattress and laid his sleeping bag out on the floor. Apparently, this was the roughest hut he had stayed in during his month-long trek so far. According to him, lots of places have showers and stoves and hot water. I was fairly incredulous.
It was nice to have a bit of company, and I was out not long after dark.
It was such a comfortable night, having some degree of cushioning under my body and being able to spread out, that I “overslept.” I woke up, returned all the benches to where I had found them, and noticed a cat watching me intently. There you are, I thought to myself, and proceeded to serve the pouch of cat food. Another identical cat showed up and I kicked myself for being stingy and only buying one pouch, which honestly wouldn’t fill the stomach of even a single stray.
The sky was gray, but the rain had stopped and it looked like I might get lucky and avoid some rain after all. I carried my suitcase back down to Temple 61, stowed it under a sign with a bit of a roof in case it started raining again, then promptly headed up to the mountain–a 9 km trek (one way). I was under the impression that it would take me just over 2 hours on the way up, but I was wrong, and despite the initial joy of being liberated from my heavy karma (luggage), I was quickly swearing under my breath “where the F is this temple already.” It didn’t help that many sections of the route were long and steep, or that every so often I’d pass a sign: 3.2 km to go. Then, after what felt like 20-30 of strenuous exertion, the next sign would announce 3.1 km to go. WTF? When I checked my step counter at the top, it told me that I had traveled a distance of 12 km, not 9km. Like Shangri-la, this mountain top temple always seemed to be just out of reach. I wasn’t too anxious about my luggage being left in plain sight in public, but I had a long day ahead of me and wanted to be quick about it so I could fit all the temples in.
The way back down, which should have been quicker, felt equally long and strenuous. Apparently, the mountain is uphill both ways. I ran out of water and with each breath focused on the now of “I’m gd tired” and “I’m so thirsty.” Mindfulness is sometimes a double-edged sword. When I reached the reservior, I found a water fountain and a bathroom and with renewed strength finished the last 4 km back to Temple 61.
Temple 61 is a very unique temple. It looks more like a masonic lodge than your typical East Asian architecture. The main hall was on the second floor of the massive black obelisk-like building, which was a auditorium of seating around the altar–like a cathedral or megachurch. At the sign-in station, the monk handed me a laminated sheet explaining the Temple 62 had exited the association of 88 Temples and doubled their fees. However, I could visit a “temporary” alternative worship site in the second parking lot of Temple 61. I had seen the signs for it and been confused. I walked the 50 meters there for my second round of templing, but went ahead and swung by “Temple 62” to burn some incense. I was tempted to ask them if what I had been told was truly the case. There is a lot of money at stake. If one temple slanders the next and redirects the pilgrims to its own new site, it could really fill its coffers.
Being well after lunch time at this point (and two hours behind my imagined schedule), I was famished and headed to a nearby Lawson’s only to find that there were no counter and chairs inside. That put a cramp in my plans to have lunch. I carried on to Temple 63, but spotting a grocery store, popped in and was delighted ot find it had a section of tables as a rest area. I rusled up a lunch and plugged in my phone at an outlet to charge for a bit.
As I was eating, a Japanese woman (a math teacher at a secondary school) came by to chat with me for a bit. She said something about planning to open an international school within the next couple years and was interested in my impressions of the area. I wasn’t helpful. With two temples and less than 2 hours until closing time, I had to rush off. The next one was just a block away, but on the 3.3 km walk to my last temple for the day, I got caught in the rain. While I was sheltering under an overhang for a few moments, I realized that every time I stopped to talk to a Japanese person (in the last two days) I got caught in the rain. I think the lesson I am supposed to learn from that is that I should be more of an a-hole.
When the rain dialed back to a light drizzle, I carried on, reaching the temple at 4:55. I got my book signed straight away, which was fortunate, because by the time I finished my rituals, they had locked up the counter. There was a park/hut next to the temple, so I could have stopped there for the night. However, because the next temple was some 40 km away, I figured it would be better to catch a train over to the general area for a fresh start in the morning. I hobbled over to the nearest train station and realized that train schedule was not convenient. After a longish wait, I hopped on the next train in the right direction, which ended its run at the next station. So I had to get off there. I grabbed a cup of instant noodles at a 7-Eleven while waiting for the next train to take me to my destination. It sucks that splitting the train ride ended up costing me an extra 100 yen, but that’s how things work.
When I got off at the correct train station, I went into full homeless mode, looking around the train station and evaluating its sleep-ability. Fortunately, however, I knew of a henro hut about a kilometer away, so I limped myself over there. It was on a traffic island where a side road intersected the highway. There were no facilities other than a bench, a roof, and partial walls. I dropped my stuff, changed into sandals and headed up the highway to the nearest Family Mart. It also had no tables. The instant noodles had pretty much filled me up, so after making use of the restroom, I just grabbed some chocolate covered peanuts and a drink, which I consumed back at the hut.
Each night had been getting warmer, and it was nice that the humidity was down some. I looked at the weather report, and other than two windows of 50% chance of rain, I looked to be in the clear.
