What-ho, gentle readers. Steve here, reporting on-location in a small tatami-mat room in Kyoto. And what a location it is! It's got windows! A light on the ceiling! And a door that functions in both "open" and "closed" positions! A cunning and clever people, these Japanese. There was even a black box in the corner that showed moving pictures, but it frightened us and we threw it out the window. Take that, evil black box spirits!
So today was our last full day in Kyoto. Tomorrow we hop the shinkansen back to Tokyo and then probably a bus to Narita, where we will pass the time before our flight asking other USA-bound passengers if they would mind terribly if we put unknown objects in their luggage.
We seem to have acquired so many unknown objects, I don't think our own luggage is capacious enough to get them home. The reason for this is that the Japanese -- at least the ones who work in souvenier shops -- are very into gift-wrapping. Remember that scene in "Love Actually" where Alan Rickman is trying to quickly, stealthily buy a necklace for his possible mistress but the sales clerk (Rowan Atkinson) keeps garnishing the necklace with layer upon layer of gift-wrap until all hope of quickness and stealth is lost? It's like that, but over and over again. (I'm talking about the elaborate gift-wrapping, NOT the possible mistress.) Every item comes in its own special box, which is then gift-wrapped, then placed in a specially sized and shaped gift bag, which is then taped shut. So we've accumulated a massive pile of taped-shut gift bags and most of the time we cannot remember what they contain. I hope we didn't buy anything embarrassing because we really can't recall.
So today was a day for two temples and a castle. Temple #1, Sanjusangen-do Temple, was full of man-sized bronze statues, over 1,000 of them. Impressive, but the most interesting thing, I thought, was how some of the statues were labeled. They had plaques saying things like, "This god comes from ancient Hindu scripture. When adopted into Japanese Buddhism, he took on cultural characteristics X and Y and became the god of such-and-such." The TEMPLE ITSELF was openly stating that these gods, gods whom people love and pray to, were adapted into Japanese culture and religion from other cultures and religions. Can anyone imagine any big important historic cathedral or synagogue flatly stating that its deity/saints/angels were culturally adapted from another religion? Doubtful. Maybe this is just me, but it makes one wonder how exactly these Japanese gods are revered, if their attributes are admittedly the result of cultural mixing and matching, not of divine truths. Or can they be both? Dunno. Perhaps the Japanese are simply more laid-back about religion than we in the West.
Temple #2 was Kiyomizu Temple, which had nifty, extensive grounds and LOTS of visiting tourists. We didn't take any pictures, as there was a sign out front asking us not to. Though lots of other people WERE taking pictures. I thought about kicking them all in the crotch as a service to the Buddha, but decided against it. My feet were already sore from walking around.
Though a curious thing about Kiyomizu, and perhaps another indication of a laid-back Japanese religiosity, is that one high-up section of the temple grounds housed a number of Shinto shrines where you could pray to various deities and buy charms and so forth. Buddhism and Shinto, two separate religions, peacefully sharing the same property. "No! Surely not!" shouted we dozens of Westerners, and I think the Japanese were pretty impressed by our coordination.
Next stop: Nijo-jo Castle, which is big and has lots of walls, presumably to keep undesirable people out. Though now that I think about it, the castle had lots and lots of cordons to show we tourists where to go and where not to go, and they worked just fine. Them shoguns could have saved themselves a lot of time and resources and peasants if they had built the castle of cordons rather than stone and timber.
Though the castle did have a genuine nightingale floor. For those who have never heard of these things: A nightingale floor is a wooden floor specially designed to squeak when walked upon, thus preventing bad people from creeping around the castle unheard. "So what?" we all snort. "I've got a floor like that in my house." Ah, but no we don't. These weren't your standard wood-floor creaks. These were tiny, high-pitched chirps. When enough people were walking the floor at once, it really did sound kinda like a tree full of tweeting birds.
But with that, we have had enough of sightseeing. We are all ready to come home and leave behind Japan and its atrociously muggy summer weather. Plus, they seem to speak an entirely different language in this country. Shouldn't we have taken care of that when we occupied it? As soon as I'm done with this post, I'm writing Mr. Obama to ask him to put it on the to-do list. Honestly. Just what is that man using my tax dollars for?
That's all from me. And now, back to the studio!
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