Day Six - Kyoto.
Jul. 26th, 2009 03:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sechan19On the agenda for the day were visits to Sanjusangendo, the Kyoto National Museum, and - if I had time - Kiyomizudera. The area that these places are located in is known as Southern Higashiyama, and its a reasonable walk from my hostel so I elected to hoof it rather than take a bus. (Kyoto has a very efficient bus system, but it doesn't seem to be much of a subway town. I'm having a bit of a time adjusting to that after Tokyo... I generally prefer trains to buses.) At any rate, I really enjoyed the walk - which took me across the Kamo River and up into the surrounding hills (Higashiyama literally means "eastern mountains.")
Sanjusangendo and the Kyoto National Museum are stationed right across the road from one another, and as I expected to be in the museum for quite some time, I decided to visit Sanjusangendo first. The Sanjusangendo is the location of the famed 1,000 Thousand-Armed-Kannon statues. The Thousand-Armed-Kannon (Senju Kannon) is a manifestation of the bodhisattva of compassion, Kannon, who works for the salvation of all men. The thousand arms signifies his ability to help all beings in all worlds and at all times.
The 1,000 Kannons are accompanied by a series of wood-carved statues (from the late 12th/early 13th century) of the 28 guardian deities - an entourage of Kannon. Included in this grouping are statues of Fujin (the wind god) and Raijin (the thunder god). As you can imagine, I spent a good bit of time with Raijin.
Unsurprisingly, the taking of pictures was prohibited. I suppose its not proper to photograph the sacred images without permission of the deity. Fortunately, I was able to buy a book of excellent (and undoubtedly sanctified) reproductions in the gift shop for a mere $10.
I wandered around the grounds in the rain (it was a super rainy day, so prepare yourself for that Hemmingway-esque refrain right now), taking pictures of the scenery and architecture as I went. Then I walked across the street to the Kyoto National Museum, where a bit of shocking news awaited me.
This is something that is quite common in Japan: some major thing going on at a site is not reported on its official Internet site. In this case, the important information that was not available to me when I checked the website for museum details was the fact that the primary collections building is currently under construction (and will be under construction until the year 2013). This means that the permanent collection is not on view, and is not going to be on view for anything like the foreseeable future. That would have been nice to know sometime before yesterday morning.
Nevertheless, I paid the entrance fee for the special exhibition - a collection of manuscripts from the Silk Road - and hoped for a good run at the museum shop. The exhibition was not nearly as interesting to me as I'd hoped. I was expecting a few more illustrated manuscripts than there were. I moved through it fairly quickly. (I just don't care about ancient Khotanese inventory slips. Sorry. I know they're important, but still...)
I had lunch in the museum cafe, a perfectly respectable chicken doria, and then browsed the museum store - which had a relatively tiny collection of books for sale. They had a place where you could sit down and look through past catalogues (and there was one of treasures from Kitano Tenmangu that I would have bought in a hot minute), but almost none of them were on sale. Amazon, here I come.
All in all, the Kyoto National Museum was a total bust.
So it goes.
I made my way to Kiyomizudera, by way of the extremely beautiful Otanihonbyo - a vast mausoleum and cemetery. I had no idea this cemetery was there. It was represented in my guidebook map by an expanse of greenery. There was no comment on its presence anywhere in the book, which I suppose I can see, but is still really a shame. I walked to the temple via a path that cut through the cemetery, and not along the main drag like everyone else. It was a delightful stroll... peaceful, silent, beautiful.
The temple was something else again. An expansive set of grounds reached through a collection of brightly (flamboyantly?) colored exterior buildings - hall, pagoda, gate, etc. The actual temple grounds feature the more traditional black wood and white paint motif, so I'm not sure what all those crazy orange buildings were about, but... they were amusing.
Before I entered, I went on the Tainai-meguri... a pilgrimage in darkness (and I do mean darkness) into the metaphorical womb of the bodhisattva Daizuigu. There, by turning a sacred stone counter-clockwise, you can pray for a single wish to be granted.
I spent most of my time in Kiyomizudera relaxing. Shortly after I arrived at the hondo (main hall) it began to storm again. So I sat under the eaves of the temple hall rather that attempt to walk the slippery slopes in the rain. (If I hadn't mentioned before, Kiyomizudera is nestled high in the hills overlooking the city. Incredible views, but a lot of opportunities to fall down and go boom.)
When the rain began to slack off I checked my watch and discovered it was only 3:30. After all, the trip to the Kyoto Museum hadn't taken me near what I expected it would. I flipped through my guidebook for nearby sights, and realized that the Rokuharamitsudera was a short walk away. As Rokuharamitsudera is the repository of the famed standing stature of Kuya preaching the Nembutsu (trust me, if you're in Japanese art history you know this statue), I decided to head there immediately.
I walked down the hill, through the main drag (which is a tourist trap of epic proportions). On my way, I bought some watermelon ice cream from a vendor, because I had never had it before. It came with a really tasty cinnamon cookie, surprisingly good with the watermelon, and was simply scrumptious.
I reached Rokuharamitsudera at just a little bit before 4pm. I walked through the grounds, which were minuscule by comparison with Kiyomizudera (or even Nishi and Higashi Honganji), and made my way to the treasure hall. In addition to the wood-carving of Kuya, there were extremely fine examples of Heian and Kamakura period carving in the form of the Shitenno (four guardian kings), the bodhisatva Jizo (both seated and standing), Taira no Kiyomori, and the father and son artists Unkei and Tankei. I took my time through the hall, and spent a lot of time with the statue of Kuya.
As I was leaving, I asked the caretaker if I could look at the books they had for sale. This precipitated a very amusing exchange.
"Oh, you speak Japanese?" he asked. I replied in the affirmative. "Well, then, you must come and see this!" He led me back to the statue and showed me how to squat down so that I could look into Kuya's glass eyes - only visible from the lowered perspective. I can't help feeling that this was some kind of reward for being a Japanese-speaking foreigner. I was in that hall for quite a while, and I saw a number of other people coming and going. I was the only person he demonstrated for.
We chatted a little bit afterward about how the portrait statue of Kuya is very famous, even in America, for its quality and unusual characteristics. (The act of preaching the nembutsu is demonstrated in the form of six tiny buddha figures, which emerge from Kuya's mouth. Very unusual.) Then I bought a copy of one of the books for sale that featured a number of quality images and some interesting-looking articles about the temple and the artworks.
By then it was nearly 5pm and time for closing. I stopped in the restroom, where I was very happy that I always carry tissue paper on me. (If you travel in Japan, this is an essential item. Just, you know, fyi.) I walked home along the Kamo River quay, in the rain, of course. We had about six storms total that day. It was really something.
Back at the hostel, I did some laundry and then I walked out and bought some cold noodles for supper. I ate in the common room, chatting with some of the girls in my dorm. It was just good, cultural exchange style conversation. We talked about American and British English, and about world superstitions, and all kinds of other things. This hostel is really nice and chill. I like it a lot.
Sanjusangendo and the Kyoto National Museum are stationed right across the road from one another, and as I expected to be in the museum for quite some time, I decided to visit Sanjusangendo first. The Sanjusangendo is the location of the famed 1,000 Thousand-Armed-Kannon statues. The Thousand-Armed-Kannon (Senju Kannon) is a manifestation of the bodhisattva of compassion, Kannon, who works for the salvation of all men. The thousand arms signifies his ability to help all beings in all worlds and at all times.
The 1,000 Kannons are accompanied by a series of wood-carved statues (from the late 12th/early 13th century) of the 28 guardian deities - an entourage of Kannon. Included in this grouping are statues of Fujin (the wind god) and Raijin (the thunder god). As you can imagine, I spent a good bit of time with Raijin.
Unsurprisingly, the taking of pictures was prohibited. I suppose its not proper to photograph the sacred images without permission of the deity. Fortunately, I was able to buy a book of excellent (and undoubtedly sanctified) reproductions in the gift shop for a mere $10.
I wandered around the grounds in the rain (it was a super rainy day, so prepare yourself for that Hemmingway-esque refrain right now), taking pictures of the scenery and architecture as I went. Then I walked across the street to the Kyoto National Museum, where a bit of shocking news awaited me.
This is something that is quite common in Japan: some major thing going on at a site is not reported on its official Internet site. In this case, the important information that was not available to me when I checked the website for museum details was the fact that the primary collections building is currently under construction (and will be under construction until the year 2013). This means that the permanent collection is not on view, and is not going to be on view for anything like the foreseeable future. That would have been nice to know sometime before yesterday morning.
Nevertheless, I paid the entrance fee for the special exhibition - a collection of manuscripts from the Silk Road - and hoped for a good run at the museum shop. The exhibition was not nearly as interesting to me as I'd hoped. I was expecting a few more illustrated manuscripts than there were. I moved through it fairly quickly. (I just don't care about ancient Khotanese inventory slips. Sorry. I know they're important, but still...)
I had lunch in the museum cafe, a perfectly respectable chicken doria, and then browsed the museum store - which had a relatively tiny collection of books for sale. They had a place where you could sit down and look through past catalogues (and there was one of treasures from Kitano Tenmangu that I would have bought in a hot minute), but almost none of them were on sale. Amazon, here I come.
All in all, the Kyoto National Museum was a total bust.
So it goes.
I made my way to Kiyomizudera, by way of the extremely beautiful Otanihonbyo - a vast mausoleum and cemetery. I had no idea this cemetery was there. It was represented in my guidebook map by an expanse of greenery. There was no comment on its presence anywhere in the book, which I suppose I can see, but is still really a shame. I walked to the temple via a path that cut through the cemetery, and not along the main drag like everyone else. It was a delightful stroll... peaceful, silent, beautiful.
The temple was something else again. An expansive set of grounds reached through a collection of brightly (flamboyantly?) colored exterior buildings - hall, pagoda, gate, etc. The actual temple grounds feature the more traditional black wood and white paint motif, so I'm not sure what all those crazy orange buildings were about, but... they were amusing.
Before I entered, I went on the Tainai-meguri... a pilgrimage in darkness (and I do mean darkness) into the metaphorical womb of the bodhisattva Daizuigu. There, by turning a sacred stone counter-clockwise, you can pray for a single wish to be granted.
I spent most of my time in Kiyomizudera relaxing. Shortly after I arrived at the hondo (main hall) it began to storm again. So I sat under the eaves of the temple hall rather that attempt to walk the slippery slopes in the rain. (If I hadn't mentioned before, Kiyomizudera is nestled high in the hills overlooking the city. Incredible views, but a lot of opportunities to fall down and go boom.)
When the rain began to slack off I checked my watch and discovered it was only 3:30. After all, the trip to the Kyoto Museum hadn't taken me near what I expected it would. I flipped through my guidebook for nearby sights, and realized that the Rokuharamitsudera was a short walk away. As Rokuharamitsudera is the repository of the famed standing stature of Kuya preaching the Nembutsu (trust me, if you're in Japanese art history you know this statue), I decided to head there immediately.
I walked down the hill, through the main drag (which is a tourist trap of epic proportions). On my way, I bought some watermelon ice cream from a vendor, because I had never had it before. It came with a really tasty cinnamon cookie, surprisingly good with the watermelon, and was simply scrumptious.
I reached Rokuharamitsudera at just a little bit before 4pm. I walked through the grounds, which were minuscule by comparison with Kiyomizudera (or even Nishi and Higashi Honganji), and made my way to the treasure hall. In addition to the wood-carving of Kuya, there were extremely fine examples of Heian and Kamakura period carving in the form of the Shitenno (four guardian kings), the bodhisatva Jizo (both seated and standing), Taira no Kiyomori, and the father and son artists Unkei and Tankei. I took my time through the hall, and spent a lot of time with the statue of Kuya.
As I was leaving, I asked the caretaker if I could look at the books they had for sale. This precipitated a very amusing exchange.
"Oh, you speak Japanese?" he asked. I replied in the affirmative. "Well, then, you must come and see this!" He led me back to the statue and showed me how to squat down so that I could look into Kuya's glass eyes - only visible from the lowered perspective. I can't help feeling that this was some kind of reward for being a Japanese-speaking foreigner. I was in that hall for quite a while, and I saw a number of other people coming and going. I was the only person he demonstrated for.
We chatted a little bit afterward about how the portrait statue of Kuya is very famous, even in America, for its quality and unusual characteristics. (The act of preaching the nembutsu is demonstrated in the form of six tiny buddha figures, which emerge from Kuya's mouth. Very unusual.) Then I bought a copy of one of the books for sale that featured a number of quality images and some interesting-looking articles about the temple and the artworks.
By then it was nearly 5pm and time for closing. I stopped in the restroom, where I was very happy that I always carry tissue paper on me. (If you travel in Japan, this is an essential item. Just, you know, fyi.) I walked home along the Kamo River quay, in the rain, of course. We had about six storms total that day. It was really something.
Back at the hostel, I did some laundry and then I walked out and bought some cold noodles for supper. I ate in the common room, chatting with some of the girls in my dorm. It was just good, cultural exchange style conversation. We talked about American and British English, and about world superstitions, and all kinds of other things. This hostel is really nice and chill. I like it a lot.
