JAPAN I

 Hiroshima & Miyajima

The journey to arrive in Hiroshima began in Cincinnati, Ohio. It consisted of three flights, the most substantial of which was the long-haul from Seattle to Taipei. We took off at 1:30 am and flew in uninterrupted darkness for 12 hours and crossed the international date line to arrive +1 day in the future at 5am. Breakfast on the airplane was congee, a first taste of customary Taiwanese/Japanese food. I'm traveling through Japan with a company called Flash Pack, and there are 14 of us in the group. The itinerary is all planned out; the accommodations are set. It's a welcome break to just be told which train to take and when to get off. 

We wandered a bit before arriving at a traditional Osaka pancake house (this is a pile of noodles with an egg pancake on top and other ingredients piled beneath the egg). We take shoes off before going inside and put them in little cubbies in exchange for house slippers. We sit on tatami mats on the floor, and there's a sunken space below the table to put our feet, like sitting on a bench. 

One of the most iconic places in Hiroshima is the Genbaku "A-Bomb" Dome,  which was constructed of steel and survived the explosion of the Little Boy uranium bomb on August 6, 1945. We met a blast survivor at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. She was 8 years old when the bombing of Hiroshima took place. She's 86 today. Her home was a couple of kilometers from the epicenter of the explosion. She and her family survived with moderate burns and several days of intense GI illness, but others a little closer to the epicenter fared far worse. Today the Peace Memorial Park is a beautiful and somber place, where an eternal flame burns to honor the lives lost in the bombing. A large bell surrounded by water lilies is suspended on a public pavillion, where anyone can ring it. The sound is a call to work for international peace, and to fulfill the mission of the park: "No more Hiroshimas." 

On our second day, we visited the island of Miyajima, "worshipful island" to visit the Shinto Itsukushima Jinja Otorii "floating" Torii gate, the base of which is covered with water during high tide and is revealed during low tide. People walk out on the tide flat to get close to the gate and the nearby shrine, where cultural celebrations are held on several stage-like platforms that can appear to be floating on the water. Miyajima is also home to a busy covered marketplace and a number of large temples where visitors can spin prayer wheels, light candles, ring a giant suspended bell like the one in Peace Memorial Park, and contemplate the spiritual connection of humans with nature. The island is also populated by several hundred very tame deer, who like to share visitors' snacks and pose for photos. 

JAPAN II

Koyosan & Floating World Kyoto

From the floating torii gate of Miyajima, we took the bullet train east to Kyoto. We arrived around lunch time and got a first taste of local ramen, which is ordered outside the restaurant using a vending machine system where you choose your item, enter coins for the cost, press the button with the picture of the meal you want, and receive a little ticket for your bowl. When there's space available you're welcomed into the restaurant and given your food in exchange for the ticket. Although the process takes a little discerning if you're not familiar--kind of a reverse escape room where getting into the restaurant hinges on your success--it's a lot of fun! 

The Fushimi Inari Shrine, located near the agricultural fields that feed Kyoto is composed of thousands of vermilion torri gates dedicated over many years by Japanese business (and some individuals) to Inari, the Shinto god of rice. The torri gate is a symbol of the doorway between the ordinary world and the spirit world. It's traditional to allow the spirits passage through the center of the gate, and to walk through on the left. Inside the main courtyard is a place to make offerings and play a game for a few yen: A stone ball about 8 inches in diameter sits on a platform. The game is to pick up the ball. If it takes more effort than you thought your wish will not come true; if it was easier than you thought, it will. There is no limit on the number of times you can play, so it might be good to start with a low-stakes wish and then visit the gym a few times before wishing for something more serious. The walking trail through all the gates takes the better part of an hour and leads through the forest to an overlook with views of the city. We were lucky to be leaving as the sun was setting (about 18:00) and got to see the brilliant orange of the gates against the evening sky.

The next day we boarded a charter bus for the drive south from Kyoto to Koyasan, a very sacred world of temples and graveyards at 1,000 meters elevation on Mount Koya. Kobo Daishi, also called Kukai, founded the Shingon sect of Japanese buddhism on this mountain, and is believed to have entered a state of eternal meditation here. He is worshiped at Okunoin Temple, the most grand structure inside the Okunoin Cemetery. Pictures are not allowed at the temple, but there are many photographs of the cemetery; a city of 300,000 graves set among huge, majestic cyprus trees, many as old as the gravestones themselves. Red hats are placed to keep the spirits warm, and a red apron indicates a child who passed away before their parents. Green fronds are placed on the graves instead of flowers, blending the gravestones further into the surrounding forest. As when we were leaving Inari, the sun was setting as we left Okunoin, and the stone lamps along the path cast a comforting glow. 

Our time at Koyasan was that of spiritual seekers. We dressed in the blue working robes of novice monks, slept on light futons placed directly on the tatami floors, attended prayer and meditation, and ate in the communal dining room seated on the floor. The dimly lit prayer hall resonated with chanting and smelled of incense. Meditation after a long day of travel was an exercise in staying upright--not embarrassing myself by falling asleep or falling over. Meditation in the morning, after the most sound night of sleep in a while, was still a bit wobbly; like putting on ice skates for the first time since the pond froze in winter. We received succinct yet profound instruction from a monk whose voice intoned knowledge more vast than we could really appreciate in the hour he spent with us: "In meditation, you are one with the universe."

We took the bus back to Kyoto in the afternoon and arrived in time to try on summer kimono and walk through the town on wooden sandals, taking small steps in tightly-wrapped dresses bound with broad silk bows. We attended a matcha tea ceremony in the afternoon and then went to dinner at a tea house where a Maiko, a young woman training to be a Geiko (Kyoto Geisha) visited us to share a dance and talk with us about her day-to-day-life and training. Every detail, from her dress to speech to learning musical instruments and politics, is arranged with great care. The dinner was presented in a series of small boxes and bowls, each bite of food presented as a work of art. The tea ceremony earlier in the afternoon unfolded similarly in that each movement was chosen and meant to be noticed. You turn the bowl a quarter-turn two times before you drink to take in the designs on the pottery before tasting the tea. 

The floating world, or Ukiyo, is an idealised vision of life and culture conceived in the  Edo period in Japan. Cultural icons such as the geisha, sumo, and samurai flourished during this time, during which some of the most renowned Japanese woodblock prints (ukiyo-e) and theater (kabuki) were also created. The floating world is transient and full of visions; not a place of reliable absolutes. It's possible to get lost there, drifting among pleasures. Despite the dangers, a trip to the floating world, not unlike a visit to a sacred place or monastery, offers a moment to stand inside an esoteric landscape and maybe see a different view of day-to-day life upon return. 

JAPAN III

Tokyo

All of my travels in Japan so far have been documented in transit on bullet trains between large cities; a couple of hours taken over the rails at 200mph to gather the collection of recent experiences before arriving at the start of a new chapter. Today I'm writing from a Boeing 777 36,000 feet above the ground, airspeed 495 knots, heading 204 somewhere over the South China Sea en route to Singapore. My last night in Japan was short, bound by late goodbyes to travel companions under the 3/4 Tokyo moon and a before-sunrise wake-up to get to Haneda Airport. I've lived 12 days in Japan, probably more intensely that most people would live in a month, with all of the activities and places visited on the tour with Flash Pack. From Hiroshima to Kyosan to Kyoto and then Tokyo, it was a great introduction. Before the plane lands here's the final segment on Japan: Tokyo. 

Tokyo is huge! The subway system is a network of over a dozen color-coded lines looping through the city like a knot that ties it all together. The map takes a minute to absorb. It's port city and is also located on the Sumida River where expansive stretches of shipyards, refineries, and manufacturing fascilities give way to train tracks, bridges, office buildings, sky scrapers, and the screen-lit never-dark nights of Shibuya Crossing and Shinjuku. It's electric. Godzilla's there too. 

The first stop on our Tokyo itinerary was Team Lab Planets, and immersive art experience in the Koto City district. We traveled through a series of massive rooms in a warehouse-turned-multisensory installation / selfie palace. A solid 5% of net Instagram content is probably coming from this place daily. While the stunning visuals are a key feature, you also have to take your shoes and socks off to go in, and roll up your pants to keep from getting soaked. There's a lot more to Team Labs that what can be experienced through the eyes: A room where the floor is knee-deep with squishy material, where it's ok (and kind of inevitable) to fall over in all directions trying to traverse the space. There's the sound and fragrance of falling water rushing down a sloped path, covering your feet to the ankles, that you ascend to arrive at a gentle pool. One room is a giant wading pond full of milky water where projected koi and swirling watercolors give the sensation of being brushed by fins and fishscales. Landscapes of the imagination are made real here, and the immediacy of physical sensation includes the visitor in them, rather than just holding the gaze for a few moments as one walks by. 

Our hotel was on the Sumida, just southwest of the Sky Tree Tower, the largest radio tower in the world. It stands 634 meters. I made it the destination of a morning run and arrived to the base of the tower with a dizzying upward glance, and noticed gentle music playing. Tokyo is a city of sound as much as sight. There's birdsong piped into the train stations and cricket noises playing along walking paths. We attended a prayer service at a city temple where the drumming was intense and relentless, and when it finally did give way we were held by the crackling of the altar fire burning cedar sticks, sending prayers into the sky. 

We did a cycle tour of the Fukagawa district, a neighborhood of artisans, ateliers, and auto garages and distilleries, where small business owners live and work in repurposed spaces. Women biked along quiet roads with families of 2 or 3 in carriers on the bike, taking the kids to school. Ice cream, cold soba noodles, origami cranes, sake tasting, making sushi, meeting a retired Sumo wrestler, using up coins on canned coffee and flavored water from the vending machines, navigating the subway, buying a dress at a department store using all 5 Japanese words I know; I lived in this city a little. 

My time in Tokyo wasn't about finding a place there; not about feeling at ease in the part of town where I might live if I could stay, but by moving with it and through it. I was a blue dot on the map, a pixel crossing the screen lighting the night.