A moment at the Shoren-in Temple

A visitor having a pause from the daily grind on the wooden veranda at Shoren-in.

 

With the risk of sounding all too unorganized as a traveler, my visit to Shoren-in was again quite improvised... On my way to another garden, I was attracted by the ancient camphor trees in front of some old gates, and couldn't keep myself from peeking in.

The Shoren-in temple is well-known in Japan for its strolling gardens, even if they seldom figure on any international books or websites. The building feels more like a residence, and has actually functioned as such for the imperial family during the Great Fire which raged in Kyoto in 1788 - at that time, it was called Awata Gosho, or the Awata Imperial Palace, despite being quite tiny for the purpose. 

The gnarled, ancient camphor tree that attracted me to peek inside the temple gates... there are five of them in total within the temple grounds.
  

The site is so called monzeki temple, which is a term only used for temples with strong connections to families of imperial or high rank (like high court officers, or samurai families). Traditionally, members of these families served as the head monks or nuns of monzeki temples, so these institutions had a great influence in the Japanese Buddhism because of their close cultural and political relationship with the imperial family and samurai feudal governments.

The temple itself is famous for its statuary as well as for its place in Japanese history; it protected the priests Honen and Shinran, who developed the Tendai-sect of Buddhism in the 13th century. Contemporary followers of this sect regard Shoren-in as a particularly sacred place, which was clearly evident from the silently gracious behavior of the older Japanese who were visiting at the same time as I. Not as severely impressive as Ryoan-ji or as spectacular as Kinkaku-ji, the Shoren-in temple was nevertheless gracefully elegant, and had an wonderfully live and intimate feeling - in my imagination, I could see the noble monks wandering through the paths or sitting on the verandas, deeply sunken to their Zen meditations, just like the visitor during my visit, having a respite from his daily grind on the wooden veranda.

 

The central Ryushinchi pond; the name means 'Heart of Dragon'. The gardens are at the foot of Mount Awata and take an advantage of the hills behind; see how the bamboo forms a green, vertical curtain behind the pond.

Another view of the Ryushinchi pond; I took this from the veranda that can be seen to the right in the picture above.

 

 Moving into the next building of the temple, again with verandas for meditating and garden viewing...

 

Unfortunately, I don't think my pictures like the one above make justice to the place... the buildings and gardens are connected by covered wooden walkways, all of which offer different views of the gardens. 

One of the buildings with a wonderful view of the gardens; tatamis cover all the floors, and the walls (sometimes sliding doors) are painted beautifully - as here, with bold and quite modern looking lotus flowers.

 And one more huge camphor tree, from the inner gardens. I have this strange love for old trees that I can't really explain - I feel really close and protective of them... and here, again, is one to love.

 

Dropping by Kyōto Gosho, the imperial palace in Kyoto

A small part of the high walls around the Kyoto Imperial Palace situated within the large palace enclosure. This venerable, 300-year old tree is known as the 'Muku of the Shimizudani residence' after the house of a court noble who lived nearby in the ancient times. Alive and well, it still needs some help from sturdy wooden poles - so typical for Japanese gardens.

 

Here's another unscripted visit... one of our mornings in Kyoto with no fixed plans for the day, I noticed that Kyōto Gosho, the Imperial Palace of Kyoto, would be opening for its annual five spring days, so we decided to take a stroll there from our hotel close by to see if the crowds would be reasonable enough to allow for a visit. Of course, the two lines were long well before the opening time, but we stayed, curious about the contents within the high walls.

 

Sharply at 9 am, the palace gates were opened and the (mostly Japanese) crowds welled into the grounds, well-behaved as always - no pushing or skipping queues here. Also, the crowds were remarkably silent, whispering to each other only in gentle voices, which I took as a sign of their reverence to the emperor. Of course, I'm not sure if I read this correctly, or if it just was just another sign of the constant politeness of the Japanese (rather pleasantly, they don't even speak to their mobile phones when using public transport - can you imagine that in any other country?).

 

The palace and gardens are surrounded by high walls with four large gates, and to reach them you have to walk through the old palace enclosure within its easily recognizable, beautiful stone walls. Earlier, several residences of high court nobles were situated within this area, but were demolished and replaced with a park when the court moved to Tokyo; Shu Sui Tei teahouse, that I wrote for about a week ago is one of the few remains of the luxurious residences within the enclosure.

 

The Imperial Palace in Kyoto was the seat of the Emperor from the Heian period (794-1185) until the end of the Edo period (1603-1868). In 1869, the Emperor moved with his court to the Old Edo, which became the official capital of Japan and changed its name to Tokyo, which means 'Capital of the East'. Despite this, Kyōto-gosho has still had an important role as a ceremonial site, and both Taisho and Showa emperors had their coronation ceremonies here.

 

Despite the palace grounds and buildings being handsomely impressive and the gardens extremely well-tended - as could be expected - I wouldn't necessarily recommend someone to make an extra effort to see them. The palace and even the gardens do feel a bit too official and a bit 'dead', which is understandable as they today only serve for ceremonial purposes. With most of us having a limited amount of time in Kyoto, there are so many more interesting, beautiful and/or charming places to see and experience. For us, the charm was mostly in the unexpected, and we left contented, enjoying afterwards a green tea with some bean paste cakes in the outer gardens where tents had been set up to serve the crowds with traditional Japanese spring time delicacies.   

 

The whole palace enclosure was carefully prepared for its five day spring opening - the crowds didn't disappoint and turned up in the thousands... One of the large, wooden gates leading to the palace and gardens inside the high walls.

 

More gates within the gates... the inner, vermilion painted Jomeimon gates lead to the large,
ceremonial inner courtyard in front of the Shishin-den main hall; the coronation ceremonies take place here.

The Jomeimon gate from inside; the white gravel of the large inner courtyard has been meticulously raked...

The hipped gables of the Shishin-den main hall. Sacred trees stand on each side of its main stairway, a Sakonno sakura (cherry) on the eastern, and above, a Ukonno tachibana (a wild native citrus tree) on the western side.

 

The Oikeniwa garden outside the ceremonial halls has a large pond, with several stone bridges arching over the water.

 

Seiryō-den, where the Emperors would be conducting their personal affairs... I wonder what that could have been, in their highly ceremonial and official lives? A rare bamboo towers in front of the building, caged in a wooden crate.

Large paintings with scenes from the imperial lives fill the walls inside the imperial palace.

 

The thatched gables of the Otsunegoten imperial villa on the palace grounds. 

 

Wooden bridge in the inner, Gonaitei garden, strictly reserved for the Emperor's private use.

 

One of the many stone paths in the Gonaitei-garden.

Another small bridge, and mossy stones from the Gonaitei-garden...

A pebbled water stream, and a pine tree with a tutu - Japanese structures for supporting trees and plants are just the most beautiful in the world!

 

 

Extremely unnatural nature - all plants were carefully pruned into the ideally suited form for the garden - very Japanese and very beautiful (and I know that some of you completely disagree with the practice...).

The Kyoto Imperial Palace is open for public 5 days each spring and autumn; otherwise, visits are available only by booking a tour through the Imperial Household Agency (at 10am and 2pm daily).

Sakura ice cream by the Philosopher's Path

Philosopher's Path does sound poetically ancient, don't you think? In reality, it is one of the newer attractions of northeastern Kyoto, built as recently as during the Meiji era (everything is relative, of course, as even this is now way over 100 years back). And instead of some venerable Zen philosopher, it is named after Professor Nishido Kitaro, an influential 20th century philosopher, who used to do his daily meditation by walking this charming stone-paved stretch that follows a narrow water canal and is lined by hundreds of cherry trees.

Philosopher's Path gets very busy during the hanami season, with thousands tourists - most of them Japanese - wandering through the three kilometer walk. All of them admire the sakura blossoms, searching for the most handsome blooms to catch on their cameras and the best places for the mandatory poses for their family albums. Small cafés cater for the crowds, offering drinks from green tea to sake and Asahi beer, and anything in between. The walk passes several temples and shrines like the Ginkaku-ji, Honen-in, Otoyo Shrine and Eikan-do Zenrin-ji, making it a perfect destination for a whole day of discoveries.

In our case, despite the amazing blooms, adding even one small temple would have been stretching my girl's limits on that hot and sunny afternoon, so we just settled for an aptly-flavored pink sakura ice cream, sitting the shade of the cherries and watching the crowds go past. Our own perfect little hanami-party, we thought.

Contemplating the void at a quiet Ryoan-ji

The karesansui at Ryoan-ji originates from the 15th century, and forms a small part of the gardens surrounding the Zen Buddhist Temple. There are many theories of who built it, with highly respected Zen monk Tokuho Zenketsu most often mentioned as the original creator. The fifteen stones are placed in small groups, and when looking from any given angle, only fourteen of them are visible at one time; it is said that the fifteenth can only be seen by those who have attained enlightenment. A pink weeping cherry outside the wall completes the composition.

 

I admit that I had to drag my 10 and 12 year old daughters to this garden, telling them that they would regret forever if they'd been in Kyoto and not seen the karesansui of Ryoan-ji, one of the most famous, abstract masterpieces of Japanese garden design. Not entirely convinced about the value of some well-placed stones set in a carefully raked sea of gravel , they nevertheless agreed to follow for a morning visit.

 

Luckily, not many tourists had found their way to the garden when we visited. Sitting on the on the viewing veranda called the hōjō, we had long discussions about the possible interpretations of the enigmatic garden. Both girls found the high walls fascinating, built as they are of clay boiled in oil that now has seeped through forming cloud-like patterns on the surface. And probably not as elegant and Zen as the garden, our interpretations of its possible meanings were quite poetic - my girls' favorite being 'tiger cubs crossing water with their mother', followed by 'little islands floating in a misty sea'. We talked also about the gravel as the important void in the composition; working like a pause in a piece of music or like empty space in an ink painting, it could be inspired by the concept of emptiness, a central idea in Zen Buddhism.

 

What surprises me (and makes me amazingly happy) is that Ryoan-ji proved to be one of the absolute favorites of my girls of all places we visited while in Japan. Instead of visiting 'just another garden' (I might have dragged them to one too many by now...), we felt that we really connected, both with each other, and with the place. Which might prove that less is more even when it comes to garden design - it just has to be the right kind of 'less'.

 

A stone path under an arbor of weeping cherries leads to Kuri, the main building of the monastery. the bamboo frames protect plants from deer. At right, a gardener in work in her huge bonnet.

 

More impressive stonework - here well-assembled steps leading to Kuri, the main building, which also works as the residence of the abbot of the monastery adjoining the temple.

 

In a hallway and in front of a beautiful courtyard, a small stone model has an explanation of the rock garden before you enter the actual viewing platform.

 

Here they are, my family sitting on the viewing veranda called the hōjō, discussing the possible meanings of the stones and the composition...

 

Beautiful, delicate ink paintings fill the walls at the Kuri. The viewing veranda is to the left from these rooms.

 

Behind the clay wall, on the way to the surrounding large garden... the wall is just as beautiful from behind. And note the large support for the old tree - so typical for Japanese gardening, showing respect for all things (and beings) old.

 

A 'behind the scenes' photo of the cherry so important for the composition (see the first picture)... here you can see all the many supports keeping it from loosing its limbs.

 

The Kyoyochi Pond was made already in the 12th century, well before the rock garden came into being. Until recently, flocks of mandarin ducks were seen on the pond, and Ryoan-ji was known as Oshidoridera, the temple of mandarin ducks. Unfortunately, the ducks have disappeared. And again, a sturdy pole construction supports the old conifer...

 

And a final picture of cherries in full bloom by the pond - they form such festive contrast to the ascetic rock garden nearby.

 

 

A pause at the Shu Sui Tei tea ceremony room

Shu Sui Tei was built about 200 years ago as a tea ceremony room for the aristocratic Kujo family. The large residence building that originally accompanied this little house was pulled down during the Meiji era, only this and the garden with its pond were left intact, and are still part of the Kyoto Goen imperial park. The wisteria trellis over the pond was full of buds, and must look spectacular when in bloom - I would love to sit in a little rowing boat under it with a glass of wine in hand!

As I wrote earlier, some of the most wonderful experiences in Japan are often the unplanned ones. Of course planning one's trip is essential, but it is good to keep an open mind and not to push things too tight so that there's no time for random adventures...

And old stone basin with a bamboo dipper for washing hands.

 

Shu Sui Tei was one of those unexpected lovelies during our trip to Kyoto. We had just come out from the Kyoto Imperial Palace, which opens for the public five days during spring and autumn (more of it in a later post). Strolling through Kyoto Goen, the large park outside, we got a glimpse of this wonderful little tea ceremony house by a small pond in the southwestern corner of the park, and of course, ventured in to see more.

 

After the crowds at the handsome Palace, the small house was a respite of calm. There were almost no other visitors, only an old Japanese couple sitting and contemplating the view in silence. We washed our hands from the old stone basin and did the same, and stayed for a long while.

 View from the second floor towards the pond and the park; a stone bridge leads cross the pond.

 Even the wooden smell of the old little house was pleasing; I wonder what kind of timber they used to build it? And I love the way in Japan you can just put a gentle and discreet bamboo marker in front of the door, and people understand not to go past it. No large and ugly plastic signs needed...

 

Irregular stone slabs lead to the entrance, and out again, after a refreshing pause at the Shu Sei Tei.

 

 

Revisiting Kiyomizu-dera

Kiyomizu-dera on the blooming hills of Kyoto - if you look closely, you can see the incense floating up from the burners on the huge wooden platform in front of the temple.

 

I had this clear memory from a previous visit to Kyoto in 1998: huge wooden poles holding up a platform, soft veils of incense from brass burners curling up to the crisp spring air, a sound of rippling water echoing from the hills covered with Japanese maples just opening their leaf buds.

 

Somehow, this memory has no crowds in it, just crisp, clean air, a bit of incense, and the sound of water. And still, the crowds must have been there. Kiyomizu-dera, the place of my memory fragment, has been visited by pilgrims and tourists for centuries, founded as it was in year 798 as a major Buddhist temple. I'm not sure... do I imagine it, or is it really so much busier now than just 15 years ago?

 

A UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1994, Kiyomizu-dera is impressing, but the crowds attracted by the nomination take its toll on the experience. Guilty as I am after several recent visits to these cultural "superstar sites", I've silently started to think that one should never nominate anything one loves - the inescapable troops arriving afterwards will almost certainly kill much of the original atmosphere. Of course, I enjoyed seeing this majestic (I know I overuse the word...) temple again. But for a still and quiet atmosphere, it is better to visit one of the many nameless (only for us tourists) small temples found midst almost all ordinary neighborhoods. Clap your hands twice, bow twice, clap you hands twice again. And listen.

 

View towards the three-storied Koyasu Pagoda - visiting it is said to bring about an easy and safe childbirth. But look at the cherries!

One of the 13 meter high wooden pillars holding up the platform in front of the main temple. All of this was built without any nails, just by joining the timber together... The present buildings are from 1633, and still holding strong.

 

 Cherries and magnolias mingling on the hills by the temple.

I hope I get this right... but these little stone sculptures are called Jizō, and they are little Buddhist deities supposed to alleviate the suffering of the living and the dead. They are worshipped and decked with clothing, toys and other objects in hope for divine intervention in the lives of those who still are here on earth, or those who have already entered the feared halls of hell.

 

It is lovely to see how Japanese women and men wear their traditional clothing when visiting the temples. The week we visited was the busiest sakura-gazing week in Japan, and thousands had travelled to Kyoto to see them blossoming. We had just as much fun admiring their beautiful garments as the cherry blossoms.

 

Travelers at the Otowa waterfall at the base of the main temple - Kiyomizu-dera means literally "pure water temple", and the waters are believed to have strong powers. Here, the waters divide into three separate streams, and visitors use cups on long poles to drink from them. Each stream is said to have a different benefit: the first causes longevity, the second gives success at school, and the third gives fortunate love life. No mixed drinks here, though - drinking from all three is considered very greedy.