Kinkaku-ji

Most of the people I've spoken to who've been to Japan tell me that they liked Kyoto the best. Why? Well, it's just plain beautiful, for one thing. Green hills surround the city, and there's no skyscrapers to muck up the vistas. The whole place has a quaint, unassuming, relaxed feel to it.

Part of Kyoto's beauty stems from the fact that it's packed to the gills with temples and other examples of old-style Japanese architecture. One such example is Kinkaku-ji, the Golden Pavilion.

Its official name is Rokuon-ji, or "Deer Garden Temple." Tucked away against a hillside, surrounded by woods and filled with quiet ponds and flower bushes, it doesn't belie the name. There must have been deer wandering through the grounds by the truckload back in the day. The temple is also considered to be the pinnacle of Muromachi-style garden design, which is itself thought to be the high-water mark of Japanese gardening culture.

The building's history is a bit complicated, but Kinkaku-ji as we know it dates from 1397, when the estate it sits on was purchased by a powerful shogun called Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, who took the original pavilion and decked it out in thin gold leaf. Why? "To mitigate and purify any excessive negative thoughts or feelings about death," according to informed sources (i.e. Wikipedia). Besides the symbolic significance, the Muromachi style was heavily dependent upon "visual excesses." (In fact, there's another pavilion not far away in Kyoto called Ginkaku-ji, or the Silver Pavilion. Unlike its golden brother, however, it was not finished.)

Anyway, the original pavilion was burned down in 1950 by a crazed monk who then attempted to kill himself on the hillside behind it. In 1955 it was rebuilt and re-gilded, though there's some doubt as to whether there was quite so much gold on the structure then as there is today: o.5 micrometers instead of a mere 0.1 (big whoop).

But I don't know jack-diddly about that stuff. The pavilion just looked pretty to me, regardless of when it was built or how many micrometers of gold were on it. So I went to go see it. After I got off the Keifuku Randen train and hopped Bus 205 (¥220) up the hill, I was in a mood to see some gold winking at me under the sun.

I had to jump through a lot of hoops to get in and see it. There was the entrance fee of ¥400 at the front gate. Then, after a U-shaped bend in the footpath, the pavilion came into sight. I stopped to take a picture, but a stern-faced guard with a stentorian voice barked at me to keep moving. So I edged a few feet away from him and finally got some pics.

Mirror Pond and its extensive landscaping were about as pretty as the pavilion itself.

A level path meandered around the temple and the pond before it. I got shots from as many likely angles as I could, feeling like a moronic tourist but deciding not to care.

Forever proving what a sucker I am, I blew ¥600 (more than the entrance fee) at the souvenir stand halfway along the path. I obtained a Zen Buddhist charm made of balsa wood rumored to confer health and good luck on a family. As I'd proposed to Miss H only a few days earlier, this purchase seemed prudent.

I blew another six yen trying to toss the light, surprisingly aerodynamic ¥1 coins into this jar. I was unaware of what karmic prize the gods would bestow upon me if I made it. Perhaps a pet tiger.

I walked by yet another temple on the way out. I stopped, threw in ¥10 (ah, what the heck) and finally made a correct prayer, with hand-washing and loud bell-ringing and everything.

I had to wait around another hour to get the 101 bus back to central Kyoto (¥220), and then another ¥420 for the subway back to Shijo Station, but I arrived back at my hotel room satisfied and confident of a day (and an absurd amount of money) well spent. I felt so good that I went back to the Karasuma Kyoto Hotel and had myself a bento (boxed lunch) to celebrate.

Not content with that, I adjourned next door to the izakaya, ordered up the fatty meat snack plate and a beer (for ¥2500!) and feasted to my heart's content.

Sorry this is so foggy. Walking from an air-conditioned hotel lobby to a humid street brings on the ol' condensation.

If that ain't a slice of fried gold! I was such a pig. Technically this should be for at least two people to share (hence the humongous portion of rice). But it was my last night in Kyoto, I'd been walking all day and I was starving. So I got stuck in and finished the lot.

For it was a farewell feast. Upon the morrow I would repeat my accustomed routine: get up, drag my crap to the station, and board a bullet train south. My destination: Kumamoto, way down on the island of Kyushu.

But that's a tale you shall hear tomorrow. CHANGING TRAINS...IN HIROSHIMA.