Japan 2017: 18 September: Nara

Return to 17 September: Miyajima to Nara

Today, we had our first breakfast at Hotobil, and it was excellent. Raw egg that we blended into the rice, miso soup, roasted fish (some anonymous but really good white fish), fried tofu, pickles, and really good green tea. Enough of a feast that the standard Japanese phrase gochisosama deshita ("that was a feast") was no exaggeration. We ended up not eating lunch or much of anything else at all the rest of the day.

We took the local JR train to Nara Station, where we were to meet our local student guide, Yuko, at 10 AM. While we waited, I struck up a conversation with a silver-haired older man (maybe 70?) who was also a tour guide, but for pay. He approached us offering his services, but was very pleasant about accepting our refusal when we told him we already had a guide. When Shoshanna went off on a few errands, I chatted with him for a bit, and wished him the pleasure of a good tour in honour of the national holiday today, "respect for seniors" day. Mr. Ozawa seemed like a very pleasant guy, and if we hadn't already booked a guide, it would have been fun to spend the day with him.

Yuko arrived at the agreed-upon time, and off we went. She's a young woman from Aichi Prefecture, about 2/3 of her way through a degree in English literature at Nara Women's University. She was pleasantly surprised I knew about her school, but I told her that I had a couple clients who teach at her university, though on the science side. She confessed to always having a case of nerves starting the tour, but Shoshanna and I both described our own nerves before giving a lecture (me) or performing a ritual (Shoshanna). She relaxed soon enough and we had a pleasant conversation about a great many things in between stops on the tour.

We started out at the five-tier pagoda we'd visited the previous day. It's apparently the second-tallest pagoda in Japan, exceeded by only a few centimetres by a similar pagoda in Kyoto. It's topped by a golden spire with nine levels (10 being the perfect number, so falling short is a reminder of the human lack of perfection and need to strive for more) and spikes intended to ward off sin. It's a short distance across a square from the Nan'en-do Hall, a beautiful temple dedicated to healing. It's an octagonal building, supposedly because the goal of a perfect circular structure was beyond the skills of architects of its era, and eight sides was as close as they could come to such perfection. (I suspect the more important reason is that this shape relates to the Buddhist "eight-fold path".) Unusually, the "piping" on the roof (the downward-sloping row of tiles that covers the seam where adjacent sections of roof meet) were doubled, with an additional layer atop the lower layer. It looked rather like—if you'll forgive the irreverent simile—two copulating caterpillars. Which unfortunate imagery detracts not at all from the beauty of the design, which is elegant and symmetrical, as is typical of Japanese temples.

From there, we wandered up to the most spectacular temple complex in Nara, the Daibutsuden complex. This is the site of what is apparently the largest wooden building on Earth, the imposing Daibutsuden hall. It's so big it projects this sense of enormous gravity even from a distance of hundreds of yards when you enter the temple complex—and amazingly, the current version is only eight pillars wide across the front. The original that was destroyed and that it replaced was 50% larger, but budget constraints apparently prevented the rebuilders from fully recreating the original. Inside, there's an enormous bronze stature of the Buddha, stretching to the ceiling. It's so big that the palm of its upraised hand is 2.5 metres long all by itself; the overall statue is more than 16 metres tall (more than 50 feet). It weighs on the order of 450 imperial tons. The roof surrounding it is supported by pillars some three feet in diameter, and is so high up it's almost celestial in its own right. An exceptionally impressive space.

One of the amusing bits, proving that the human sense of humour is universal to all cultures and times*, is that one of the pillars behind the Buddha has a hole carved in it at floor level. If you can squeeze through it, the story goes, you can achieve virtue. It's an easy passage for children, and a couple women managed to squeeze through without any help, but I can't imagine even fitting my shoulders into the hole, let alone making it all the way through. I found myself wondering how many stubborn Western tourists have to be forcibly extracted with winch and axle grease each year.

* Though, of course, there are variants. The Viking sense of humour, for instance, probably wouldn't play well in New York.

From the Daibutsuden temple, we stopped at the Todaiji museum, which had a small display of archeological artefacts from the site. Particularly impressive were 500-year old scrolls, beautifully illuminated and with colours still as vibrant as ever. Much like the book of Kjells in Ireland.

Next, we wandered uphill, a stiff climb to the top of the low mountains on the northeastern side of the valley that contains Nara. Most of the ascent is shaded by trees, which is fortunate because it was hot and humid. After a sweaty climb, we were rewarded with a panoramic view of the whole valley. You get a sense of how densely built-up the city is, but there are also nice green spaces, particularly on the slopes of the surrounding mountains. My understanding is that the Japanese revere their mountains, and thus don't cover them with high-priced homes, unlike in many Western cities. The result is beauty.

After pausing to cool down and soak in the atmosphere, we descended back towards the city. It was just after noon, but lunch was not really in the cards, none of us being hungry enough. Instead, we stopped at a café near the eastern end of Nara Park for a drink and to take a load off our feet for a bit. Shoshanna and I tried a couple local microbrewery beers (a Kölsch-style Pilsner-type beer, and an "altbier", the former a familiar but tasty golden ale and the latter a red ale with a nice hint of caramel and a slightly bitter finish). Sadly, neither of us thought to write down the name of the brewer. Yuko would not have any alcohol, as (from her description) her family lacks the gene that lets one process alcohol. But, with some persuading, she did accept our offer to buy her a mango drink. We sipped and chatted while we watched the ubiquitous Sitka deer shopping (two of them were clearly browsing the sidewalk wares at a tourist gift shop at the foot of the park, nosing among the souvenirs) and mugging tourists (whether or not they had deer cookies in hand).

From the café, we wandered downslope through a densely forested path lined by shrines and stone lanterns. The path starts out towards the southeast, bends south, then bends back west as it wends its way through Nara Park, eventually ending near the large pond at the southwestern end of the park. It's lovely woodland, and a nice break from the sun on a sunny day. It's also densely populated with temples, all in good repair and quite lovely.

Our last stop on the day's tour was at a large merchant's house in Naramachi district. It's beautifully laid out, with large and airy tatami rooms, though a bit low-roofed for someone my size. Pleasant courtyard and backyard, large kitchen, and what Yuko described as a "danger room" in the top floor, reached through a tiny door at floor level that I barely fit through on hands and knees; to get though, I had to do one of those "scoop" pushups—the kind where you swoop your head downwards until your shoulders almost touch the ground, then push your head up as your butt and low back swing through the spot your head formerly occupied. Basic notion is that if you're a rich merchant and thieves break into your house, you can retreat to this room and defend yourself more easily, because it would be hard to get through the small door while the residents are trying to poke you with a spear. Not sure I buy that explanation, as the house is all wood and rice-paper walls, which would burn easily.

Yuko left us after we'd seen the merchant's house, and we sent her on her way with a gift bag containing a tin of Quebec maple syrup. (That's our standard travel gift because the tins survive rough handling and it's a very Canadian taste of home.) We hope she enjoys it! She had expressed an interest in our editing work, so I gave her my business card and suggested she look up all the editing-related material on my Web site and contact us if she wanted to learn more. And, of course, we told her that if she ever wanted to come to Montreal, we would be happy to show her around the city.

We were tired enough after 7 hours of walking that we agreed on an early dinner rather than having to walk all the way home and then back out again to find a restaurant, but not much was open at 5 PM. So we walked most of the way back to the park before we found a place that was open. It was tiny (only two tables and half a dozen seats at the bar that overlooked the kitchen), and at least initially, it was a one-man operation. No English menu, but between us, the cook had enough English and I had enough Japanese to figure out together what was on the menu. It was an udon (thick, chewy wheat noodles) place, and he made the noodles fresh while we watched, rolling them out and cutting them using a pasta machine. I chose a bowl of udon with fried tofu and seaweed; Shoshanna optedfor the shrimp tempura set meal. Because we were at the bar, we got to watch as he threw the noodles into a vat of boiling water and performed a graceful dance among three or four pots (broth, oil, a couple others) and the refrigerator (Tupperware containers of vegetables, shrimp, other stuff) and two batter bowls, not to mention three gas burners he used to set the broth to boiling. Battering the tempura, stirring the noodles, testing the tempura for doneness, and so on kept him constantly in motion. (By the time we were done, a woman arrived to share the work, and the dance then became a pas de deux as the two shared the cramped space behind the counter.) Yummy, filling, and a nice end to the day.

As I mentioned earlier, it was a national holiday today, with the goal of celebrating the elderly ("respect for the aged" day). Japan's government apparently used to give everyone who reached the age of 100 a silver sake cup, but may have recently discontinued the practice when the number of people reaching this age began approaching 30 thousand! Lots of people were out enjoying the fine weather, and we saw a small fireworks display on the way home.

Continue to 19 September: Nara