Kyoto Hanami . Day 4

Bojan and I awoke to the sound of knocking at the door. We had slept in and needed to check out immediately. I got myself together and headed out the door to catch the bus down to Kyoto station to meet my sister and her school group. Our destination for the day was Nara, but more specifically, Todai-ji Temple. We walked through the rather uninspiring streets from Nara station station and eventually reached the beginning of the long approach towards the temple. The day was warm and sunny, therefore drawing throngs of people to this sacred site. Haggard wild deer roamed around enjoying the attention and being consistently fed by all.

As much as I was there to see Todai-ji, I was just happy to be present with my little sister. Witnessing the joy she was having with her friends and teachers and the obvious fascination with her new surroundings was very fulfilling. A fond moment was making her laugh to the point of tears when I highlighted a slight breeze coming through a precariously placed hole in my pants as I posed for a photo.

After being completely overwhelmed by the enormous temple, the group and I gradually strolled back to Nara station stopping for ice cream, drinks and odd treats along the way. By the time we all got on the Kyoto bound train most of us conked out and proceeded to sleep most of the way back. Once we got off, I organised with Madeline’s teachers to take her with me for the evening as this would be the last time I see her for another 6-8 months. We set off together with the first stop being my hostel to pick up Bojan and exchange some items with Madeline from my luggage. In the very sociable lobby of the Khaosan Guest House, Madeline handed over my Easter presents from home ie. Cadbury chocolates. I stood up and shared them around with the very appreciative staff and other guests. I read a great letter from my Aunty and enjoyed the cards my rad little cousins Jaz and Gem made for me.

Once everything was organised we set off along the blossom laden canal in search of a long awaited dinner at Ootoya. Bojan amused us with his clumsiness banging his head before dug into some hearty pseudo Japanese meals of chicken, rice and salad. Time was of the essence as I needed to get Madeline back to her hotel at a reasonable hour. We walked down the charming Pontocho Street, popping our heads into bars and izakaya's before being offered by a slightly intoxicated gentleman to take our group picture. Quite hilarious.

Bojan went off to say goodbye to some friends and Madeline and I soaked up each other’s company at a small Izakaya full of excited locals whom where bundles of fun and very inquisitive. We met up again with Bojan, headed back to the guesthouse to grab our bags and took a taxi to the station. Bojan waited with our gear at the station while I escorted Madeline to her hotel. Her teachers where in the lobby and spoke for a while before I had to do the difficult thing of saying goodbye to Madeline. She was a blubbering mess. Bless her heart.

I walked solemnly back to where Bojan was waiting only to be halted by a feisty altercation between a very disgruntled man and the train ticket inspectors. The young officer in uniform was doing his best to calm the man down but was clearly frightened as he was being physically manhandled. I waited to see if it was going to get out of hand and intervene Lenny Hayes style but thankfully this was not necessary. In hindsight, a bearded foreigner arresting a hot headed local man probably wouldn't have worked in my favour in the ensuing policeman’s eyes.

If that wasn't enough emotional excitement for the evening, I returned to where Bojan was waiting only to find a Japanese girl crying uncontrollably in the station. She was well dressed and slumped against a wall fumbling with her phone. Her howls spoke of shock and bottomless sadness. She vaguely pulled herself together and slumped silently as we moved towards our Tokyo bound bus.

It was the end of a potent four days. Back to the Tokyo hustle.

 

 

Kyoto Hanami . Day 3

After a civil evening the night before that concluded in the early hours of the morning, I awoke to journey to Shugaku-in Imperial Villa located in the Eastern Suburbs of Kyoto. I had my 9am tour booked and permission papers in hand, but a rare blunder connecting trains put me well behind schedule. So much so that by the time I had stepped off the local two carriage diesel locomotive close to the villa, I conceded to joining the 10 am tour which wasn’t a problem. Phew. (I can just hear mum now “you never leave yourself enough time…”)

The Shugaku-in is a series of detached outbuildings of mainly teahouses, unlike Katsura, it is not focused around a large villa structure. Conversely, the 133 acre grounds are divided into separate gardens:  Lower Garden, Middle Garden and Upper Garden. These gardens are individually isolated by agricultural land incorporated into the overall property. The pathways between the gardens slice through the agricultural land where workers still to this day plough away to grow rice and various vegetables. The evident self-sufficiency of Shugaku-in spoke the bygone attitude and self-supporting lifestyle of all Japanese life up until the late 18^th century.

 The journey over the whole site is long and vast, coincided by the distant views over East Kyoto and beyond.  I was surprised by the large group of visitors, and I pondered their motive for visiting. Some where city slickers with $10,000 Leica rangefinders and others were adorable elderly folk aghast by the gardens beauty. I was as stimulated observing people’s interest as I was by the Villa itself.

The Villa was built by Emperor Go-Mizunoo, beginning in 1655, for his later years of retirement (he retired in the Sento Imperial Palace before relocating here); he wandered with gentle purpose through and amid his gardens, gazing, painting, reading, writing, eating and sleeping day in and day out. A lifestyle in which unfortunately seems so distant to many.

After the leisurely tour was over, I made my way back to the station on via the banks of the canal that winds itself through the quiet neighborhood. The densely packed houses were decorated with various evidence of domestic life. As I walked past a hoarders shop, I stopped to inspect a few things a little closer and the stocky woman came out to rearrange her collection. She greeted with me a big smile and a “Ohayou gozaimasu” (good morning) full of gusto. It was an enthusiastic acknowledgement of my existence and a portrayal of the warm soul she embodies.

I walked further along the canal turning left onto the main road and was drawn into a decrepit arcade in which I didn’t notice earlier. I was arrested by a trash and treasure shop (my favourite kind) in which had a box of old LP’s sitting out the front. Oh boy. Long story short I walked out with 3 kilos of records ranging from classic musical numbers to live shamisen recordings. I was a happy man, as was the shop keeper. Before boarding on the train I grabbed some bread from the bakery and sat down to have a coffee and accompanying sweet at an iconic Japanese coffee house; elderly owners, low timber joinery showing years of wear, a potent existence of cigarette smoke and an almost tangible sense of reflective thought weeping from the scattered customers with their heads down in loneliness. I made a concerted effort to influence my state of glee upon the kind lady owner who responded with a refreshing smile and enthusiastic “arigatou gozaimasu” as I appreciated the deliciousness of their creations.

My next point of call was the Sento Imperial Palace which is located within the grounds of the Kyoto Imperial Palace

I was enjoying my baguette while crossing a bridge on the way to the Villa, my head was down and then out of nowhere an enormous Falcon swooped down, blinding my field of vision with its wing span and attempted to steal my lunch. I slurred out a few choice four letter words and the locals around screamed in fear, ducked and ran. I was lucky to keep my thumb because those feet of theirs are capable of killing smaller birds as I witnessed at a Falconry exhibition. So after counting my blessings, I subsequently lamented the fact that I couldn’t finish my roll which was now decorating the footpath awaiting the falcon’s victorious swoop. Well played good sir. Nonetheless, after strolling through the Imperial palace bushes and murdering a chocolate pastry as quick as possible, I comfortably made my 1pm appointment.

Sento Imperial Palace is a 22 acre garden which was formally the grounds for retired emperors (Daijo, Go-Mizunoo). Through the main gate exists an expansive forecourt to the main entrance of the triple gabled carriage house. At this point you are still outside the main compound and you then stroll to the right through a small bamboo grove and through an opening in an impossibly thick white lime rendered wall. You are met with the charming Yushin-tei thatched roof teahouse and the gardens primary feature of two large connecting ponds. The pond’s allure is delivered by its picturesque islands and assortment of bridges, most notably, a stone bridge with wisteria trellis (built 1895). At the southern end of the pond is Seika-tei: an understated shingle-roofed teahouse rendered in a vermillion colored clay. The Approach to Seika-tei is via the expansive “ocean shore” of rounded stones given to the Emperor as a gift. It was said the generosity of the benefactor was reciprocated with a sack of rice for each stone.

The guided tour concluded with the charismatic leader ending with a song, exhibiting his rather honey laden set of pipes. By this time I was quite “Imperial templed” out so to speak.

Dejan had decided he had enough and headed back to Tokyo that morning, so it was just Bojan and I to hang out for the evening. We decided to head back to Maruyama park to engage in some hanami season eating and drinking activities. After a romantic stroll stuffing our faces with various meats from the food stalls and kicking back in the alfresco dining area, we decided we would capitalise on Bojan’s established presence at the Gael Irish pub. It was a joyfully eventful evening involving (in order) good conversation, pretzels, beer, Pastis’, Irish purebreds, tackling, broken teeth, taxis, confusion, walking, witnessing, more beers, and a long stroll home.

I was looking forward to seeing my little sister the next morning.

Kyoto Hanami . Day 2

I was awakened by the what sounded like a wildebeast snoring from the depths of its gut. It was Bojan on the bottom bunk. My thin mattress and pillow vibrated in time and it was clear I would net be getting back to sleep, so I emerged from the shared room of the other awakened souls to have a shower. After assessing the time, we grabbed a cab to Katsura not to risk being late.

This is my second time to Katsura, as the first was with my Parents back in January. The purpose of my visit was to simply absorb it more, and for Bojan it is his PHD subject. I have read briefly into its history and purpose but I tried to observe the garden as whole through a contemporary domestic lens. To digress a little (small forthcoming architecture ramble warning), Over the 17 acres, the Sukiya style structures composing of the main villa Shoin and complementary tea houses choreograph a overall sense of seclusion. Seclusion in this manner is defined as architecture, and its relationship to landscape,  providing a place for its inhabitants to nurture thought, contemplation and the withdrawal into oneself. The teahouse and the art of 'tea' echoed into daily Edo life, and to a diluted and mutated degree, modern Japanese life. The Japanese appreciate and practice in the art of living, an act in which does not consciously exist in Western life or homes. Therefore, seclusion is quintessential in the modern home to help make one be conscious of their sentimental and intimate surroundings. Katsura and the Japanese Edo home define the responsibility of the modern home. It is a place where one can detach themselves from the persistent concern of the material world,  and in the comfort of their own home, to protect and stimulate the human distinction of one's own existence. How this is achieved is significantly up to ones own attitude, and seclusion in domestic architecture develops and nurtures this attitude. My father, for example, on reoccurring occasions is labelled missing, only to be found on the small deck out the back, relaxed, with his eyes squinting in thought and a cigar nestled comfortably and naturally in his right hand.

Bojan's power stance

The Following images are from the Kyoto Imperial Gardens and Palace. The palace was luckily open for 4 days to the public over the main hanami season.

After Bojan went off to his appointment at Sento Imperial Villa, myself Dejan and I all boarded  bus to the North end of the Philosophers path. 

After walking all the way from the end of the Philosophers path we headed towards Maruyama park where hanami festivities where in full swing. A few thousand people sprawled out in groups drinking, dancing, singing and socialising under the blooming sakura.

Kodai-ji zen garden lit up (below)


The brooding Kiyomizudera lit up under the clear night sky. (below)