Flat Stanley Visits a Shrine and a Temple

This is a torii (TO-REE), a gate that marks the entrance to a Shinto shrine.  I saw lots of torii today.  The Shinto religion is the ancient native religion of Japan.
 

We spotted another torii after we walked down a long path lined with cherry trees and azalea bushes.  Ryan's friends said this looked even prettier last month when the cherry trees were covered in pink blossoms.

We could see the shrine on the hill ahead of us through the second torii.

All the shrine buildings were painted an orange-red color. They looked pretty against the blue sky. (I think I was wrong about the Rainy Season starting early this year.)

There are a lot of steps in Japan.  I can't wait to run up these.

What are those people doing over there?  Can you see me?

Those people were rinsing their hands before going up to the shrine to pray.  I watched what they did and then picked up one of the ladles lying over the well, filled it with water from the well, and rinsed both my hands.  One man used his hand like a cup and rinsed his mouth and then spit the water out next to the fountain.  This is because you are not supposed to drink the water directly from the ladle.

Bad fortunes

Some people were buying fortunes at a little shop near the fountain. The ones who bought fortunes that predicted bad luck, like getting sick or failing a test, tied the fortune to one of these ropes or a tree branch so the bad luck could not follow them home.

Another thing you can do at a Shinto shrine is buy a wooden tablet, called an ema (EH-MAH), and write a prayer on it. There is a big rack where you can hang your prayer. I wonder what the person who drew the cartoon is praying for.

There is a picture on the front side of every ema. Most of the ema I saw had pictures of dragons because 2012 is the Year of the Dragon here.

Someone picked an ema with a picture of a horse.

Which would you choose, a dragon or a horse?

There is a smaller shrine next to the big shrine.

Not all torii are made of wood and painted that orange-red color. Some are made of stone, some are made of metal, and this one is made of concrete.

We passed through a different type of gate when we entered a Buddhist temple later in the day. Buddhism came to Japan from China almost two thousand years ago. I think I heard someone say this kind of gate is called roumon (ROH-OH-MOHN).

We did not wash our hands at the Buddhist temple. Instead, people lit sticks of incense, stuck them in a big pot filled with sand, and waved the smoke around. We had to take off our shoes to enter the temple so I'm glad I wore nice socks.

Visiting a shrine and temple was a nice way to spend the day. Lots of people were strolling around the gardens at both places. I saw children feeding turtles, three herons resting on an island, and plastic food in a restaurant window. You can look at those pictures tomorrow while I pack my things to come home.

Tokugawa's Tomb and the Worst Job in Japan: Nikko, Part 5

The tomb of Ieyasu Tokugawa is at the top of a heavily wooded hill. You must climb two hundred and seven stone steps to get there. (The guidebook says 200 but Ouiser counted otherwise.)

Vending machines are everywhere in Japan and the tomb is no exception. I stopped complaining about the steps after I passed a middle-aged man who apparently is responsible for restocking those machines.

Bless his heart!

Copper gate guarding the tomb

The copper tomb sits in the center of a quiet clearing. The unpretentiousness of the tomb and setting, especially after all those ornate wood carvings, reminds me of Robert Kennedy's grave in Arlington Cemetery.

Circling the tomb, we notice a small crowd gathered at the base of a hollow tree. Mineko tells us the tree is thought to be something like a prayer amplifier so we stand in line to pray for our children and future grandchildren.

Ieyasu Tokugawa's Tomb

Before we leave Toshogu Shrine, Mineko takes me into a building, the Yakushi-doh, that has a dragon painted on the ceiling. A monk gives a brief lecture about the history of that painting (I can only assume since the lecture was in Japanese) and then strikes wooden clappers so we can hear the sound of the dragon crying. Cameras are not allowed in the Yakushi-doh or I would show you what a crying dragon looks like.

Enough of Nikko. I have a zillion more pictures to share but I'll save them for later, for those days when I forget to charge my camera.

Carving Wood in the Seventeenth Century

There are 5,173 wooden sculptures in Toshogu Shrine. A few more than five hundred of them can be seen on Yomei-mon, the striking gate leading to the inner precincts.

Yomeimon at Toshugo in Nikko

The Yomei-mon gate, deservedly designated a national treasure, is also called Higurashino-mon which translates to "the gate where people spend all day long to look".  If I didn't have a train to catch, I'd probably still be standing there catching flies in my gaping mouth.

The gate rests on twelve pillars, one of them inverted to signify imperfection and the desire for long life.  In ancient times it was believed that perfection was the beginning of decline so people used to leave space for three tiles on the roof when they built a house.

Misa and Mineko outside Yomei-mon

A sleeping cat is carved above the entrance to Okusha, the area of the shrine where Ieyasu Tokugawa is buried.  This is the most famous sculpture in Toshugo so I had to try to blend into a class of yellow-capped students to get close enough to take a picture. Their guide was probably telling them that the sparrow perched on the cat's back means that peace has arrived in Japan after years of civil strife.

Another interesting carving can be found on the gable of one of the storehouses across from the sacred stable.  People call this "The Imaginary Elephants" because the artist had never seen one and had to rely on his imagination and some limited written descriptions.

I hope the imperfections translated into a long life for him.

Monkeying Around at Toshogu Shrine: Nikko, Part 3

Nikko's main attraction is Toshogu, a Shinto shrine surrounding the final resting place of Ieyasu Tokugawa, founder of the Tokugawa shogunate. In case you've forgotten, the Tokugawas ruled Japan for over 250 years until 1868.

Ieyasu is credited with uniting Japan after decade upon decade of civil strife, although at least one historian wryly notes that Ieyasu just happened to be the last of three close comrades still standing after the final battle. I recently spotted an unattributed Japanese proverb in a Laura Joh Rowland mystery that goes something like "Oda sowed the grain, Hideyoshi baked the bread, and Tokugawa ate the bread."

He was 60 when he was installed as Seii-taishogun in 1603 and resigned two years later to ensure his son's smooth succession and to focus on diplomatic and building projects (this was the beginning of what history now calls the "Edo Era" because he moved the seat of government from Kyoto to what is now Tokyo).

When he died in 1616 at the age of 73, he was enshrined in accordance with his last wishes.  "Enshrine my dead body in Mt. Kuno  for the first year of the death . . . and build a small shrine in Nikko and enshrine me as the god.  I will be the guardian of Japan."

Mt. Kuno was his hometown.  He chose Nikko as his final resting place because Nikko is located north of Tokyo and north was considered the taboo direction, the direction from which demons come (forgive the messenger, Russian readers).  Tokugawa chose to position himself in Nikko to protect Japan from "the evil things".

Although Ieyasu specifically requested "a small shrine", his grandson Iemitsu later decided to transform Toshogu into a stark reminder of the family's power and wealth.  About 40 billion yen (at today's rate) and more than 4.5 million workers labored for one year and five months to construct the shrine buildings we see today.

Enough with the pedantry.  Let's go in.

One of the first things to catch our eye is a colorful five-story pagoda (right) contributed by Tadakatsu Sakai in 1650.  The pagoda burned down in 1815 but was reconstructed to withstand earthquakes three years later by a descendant of Tadakatsu.   (Of parenthetical interest, Tadakatsu was the governor of Obama in Fukui Prefecture.  Obama means "little beach" in Japanese.)

The Sacred Stable with eight monkey panels

Next we enter a large courtyard and find three large storehouses facing a sacred stable (shinkyu).  Two sacred horses, they must be white, rotate stable duty for four hours every day.  They don't have to work on days when it rains or snows.

We're in luck! We've managed to arrive at the sacred stable after 10am and before 2pm on a balmy day so we catch a glimpse of a sacred horse.

To my credit, I succeed in taking this picture without blasting out the chorus of the Mr. Ed Theme Song.

Now let's go back outside and take another gander at those eight monkey panels scrolling across the front of the stable.  These carved panels are called sansaru (three monkeys) and work like a picture book.  To read the story, click here.

Of the 8,914 people who visited Toshogu on November 2, we are the only four who did not recreate the second panel for posterity.  How unlike me.

"Hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil"

"Speak no evil, hear no evil, see no evil, see no evil"

Until today, I had no earthly idea those three monkeys are Japanese creations. They even have names! And, yes, they might have been born in India and wandered through China before they reached Japan, but we have to give Japan credit for the catchy slogan. Why? Wikipedia says so. If you don't believe me, or if you want to know the full story and see how good I am at summarizing, please click here.

Toshogu Shrine is fun!  Now let's wander up those steps to that big gate thing.

Arresting Sights in Kanazawa

We spotted this whimsical sculpture (above) on a street corner between Kanazawa castle and the samurai district. If I ever get caught up on all my random projects, I'll crack open the Adobe Photoshop manual and figure out how to transform this picture into a blog header. Don't hold your breath.

It speaks to me of adventure, walking (of course), bunions, and intestinal fortitude.  

Kotojitoro on railing near Kanazawa Castle

Kenrokuen Garden's famous kotojitoro lantern is reproduced on sweets, manhole covers, and bridge railings.

Wandering around the grounds of Oyama-jinja, a Shinto shrine adjacent to Kanazawa castle, we spotted this "Neverending Story" statue. What do you suppose the story behind this statue might be?

Fearless gets credit for convincing us to visit Oyama-jinja after spotting the shrine's distinctive main gate from a bus window. The gate is an interesting mix of Japanese, Chinese, and European religious architectural elements, notably Dutch stained-glass windows on the third floor.

Maybe I'll post some more photographs from Oyama-jinja in particular and Kanazawa in general later this month. This morning I am embarking on an overnight trip to Nikko with three Shonan friends and a fully-charged camera. Bon voyage to me!

Iseyama Kotaijingu: A Nineteenth Century Antidote

Further up the hill from Enmei-en is Iseyama Kotaijingu, Yokohama's tutelary shrine.  Local residents visit this shrine in great numbers, especially at the New Year and for celebrations when children turn 3, 5, and 7 years of age.

I'll fill you in on the shrine's history as you trudge up those several flights of steps through three marble and one rustic torii with me.

When foreigners started arriving in Yokohama in the 1860s, one of the first things they did was build churches.  They also ate meat which was unheard of in this Buddhist area.  The local residents were surprised to see such changes in their area and feared the city would become polluted by foreign influences.  They wanted to build a shrine to serve as a talisman or counterweight to protect Yokohama from foreign ways.

The Meiji government approved their request.  The shrine was dedicated to the Sun Goddess when it was built in 1870.

The Kikkomen company apparently provides major financial support to the shrine. We can think of no other explanation for the large glass case displaying their products on the top of the hill.

Tutelary shrine means this is where the members of Yokohama Bay Stars, the city's professional baseball team, pray for a winning season.

Including the American players

After admiring a serene garden we were barred from entering, we headed downhill like a pair of bloodhounds and sniffed our way to Bubby's Pie Shop.

Yokohama residents are a bit more receptive to foreign pollution these days, at least when it comes in the form of pie.

Another satisfied customer. She ate a slice of Key Lime Pie while I wolfed down the same plus a wedge of Michigan Sour Cherry. She took four more pieces of pie home with her. She said she intended to share them with her husband and parents.

Sure.

Kencho-ji with Ishii

Ishii-san and I went searching for bush clover in Kamakura today. We didn't see much of that but we did see a whole lot of other things, munched on some very yummy fresh rice crackers, and walked our usual zillion miles.

Ishii read somewhere that Kencho-ji temple in Kita-Kamakura is a good place to see bush clover. Our route took us past Haruki-san's kimono exhibit so of course we took a little detour. Haruki and his wife were so gracious. They remembered my name! He pronounces "Kathy" the same way Yuuko Kaji does, with a very soft "th" that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Ishii was wearing a lovely sashiko vest for the occasion, a long duster she spent a year creating. I wish I had taken some closeup pictures so you could see her exquisite craftsmanship. I, on the other hand, had spent the morning shelving books at the base thrift shop in a sleeveless shirt and found a ratty cardigan in the trunk of my car to cover my bare shoulders, something I feel as compelled to do when I am out and about in Japan as when I visited the Vatican at the age of fifteen.  (As the day grew warmer, the sweater grew increasingly loathsome.  I'm going to abandon it at the thrift shop the next time I shelve books.)

Karamon at Kencho-ji

Kencho-ji, constructed in the 13th century, is the oldest Zen training monastery in Japan -- surely you've heard this before -- and the first-ranked of the five great Zen temples of Kamakura. This was my third visit since March 2007 yet I still took a dozen pictures of the statue of fasting Buddha and the dragon picture (unryu-zu) on the Hatto ceiling. No matter where you stand in the room, the dragon's eyes seem to follow you. This is quite eerie and, so far, impossible to capture in a photograph.

Fasting Buddha

The map provided by the man at the ticket booth showed a garden near the rear of the temple grounds. This seemed like an obvious place to find bush clover so off we went. Except we skirted the building on the left when we should have marched directly through the building straight ahead and, lo and behold, we were behind the garden with no way to get through the tall hedge. That's when Ishii-san got that innocent look on her face that I really ought to recognize by now, the "As long as we're on this path, let's just take a little stroll and see what we can see" look. Those "little strolls" never fail to turn into arduous physical activity. Not that I'm complaining.

Today's "little stroll" took us eventually to the last building on the map, the Hanso-bo, which I think means "8,000 of the steepest steps you will ever climb".  Seriously, even those cute 10-year old school children in their bright yellow caps were huffing and puffing by the time they reached the fourth or fifth flight of stairs.  Japanese landscape designers must all take a special class in Deceptive Neverending Stairs because I can't count the number of times I've scampered up 80 steps only to discover another 80 steps across a short plateau and then yet another 80 steps camouflaged by a leafy maple tree.  Wheeze, gasp.

This is the first time Ishii-san has been to the Hanso-bo.  Her husband knows about those steps which is why I am here with her today and he's not.  

More often than not there's some sort of visual reward for scaling all those steps and today is a more often rather than a not. Thank God.

The Hanso-bo is a shrine that was moved here from Shizuoka in 1890 to protect the temple in the valley below. The final stretch of hillside beneath the shrine is littered with statues of winged creatures called tengu which look like a cross between warrior angels and the Wicked Witch of the West's flying monkey minions.

There's a viewing platform next to the shrine which offers a lovely view of Mt. Fuji on a clear day.  Today we couldn't see Mt. Fuji so I might just have to reprise that ascent.  But you can be darn sure I'll borrow a couple of cell phones and a kid who's willing to scamper up those steps ahead of me to scout out the view.

Ishii-san and Tengu

We spotted a patch of bush clover as we were working our way back toward the temple entrance but it had already finished blooming and that made us laugh. The bush clover seems relatively immune to the effects of the recent Typhoon Roke. Lots of other plants have leaves that are turning brown and shriveling up compliments of all the salt the typhoon carried from the sea to land.

Mata-ne to Weather Explorer

Today Weather Explorer left Japan for her husband's new duty station in Tennessee.

She's been a willing and cheerful accomplice in most of my adventures and escapades for the past year and half, and my Rock of Gibralter -- make that Mount Fuji -- since the March 11 earthquake and tsunami. We've had some fun times.  To put it mildly.



Uraga Ferry

The past three weeks have been packed with farewell activities. The day after our first Charity Quilting Bee, Hisayo and Chigusa took us on a hike in Uraga, the hilly Yokosuka neighborhood where they live. We visited a shrine on the east side of a small bay and then rode a ferry to the sister shrine on the other side.

Hisayo bought us pretty little prayer pouches at the east shrine. At the west shrine we selected polished stones and inserted them in our pouches.

Prayer tablet at Kano Higashi (East)

Hisayo pointed out two symbols on a marble plinth at the entrance to the east shrine. The two symbols -- "Wishes Fulfilled" -- are also painted on the tablets visitors can purchase. We bought one of those tablets, wrote a prayer on the back, and hung it on a hook outside the shrine. If I have this right, our prayer will remain on that hill overlooking Tokyo Bay until the new year when all the prayers are burned in a special ceremony.

In Conclusion: You, Too, Can Make a Hatsumode Shichi-fukujin

If it isn't one thing, it's another. In my case, if I've remembered to recharge my camera battery, I've forgotten to reinsert that memory thingamajig after downloading the latest batch of pictures. The night before our Seven Gods of Fortune pilgrimage I forgot to recharge the battery. "Way to go, knucklehead!" it sneered just before the camera blinked off at Imado Shrine. I've managed to steal a few pictures from my friends to wrap up this pilgrimage series.

(For posterity, and for friends who might want to make their own pilgrimages when they return to Japan after the radiation wafts into the stratosphere, I've included (here) a link to a nifty website that lists the shrines and temple in the order visited. Don't be dismayed when you see kanji rather than English words. Just click on the links from left to right and you'll be in business. You can pick up a map at the tourist center just outside the train station exit in Asakusa.)

The fifth stop on our pilgrimage was Hashiba Fudouson Temple, dedicated to Hotei, the fat and happy god of abundance and good health. A long and narrow stone path leads to a courtyard graced by a very old Gingko tree.

Just a block or so further along the road we found Ishihama Jinja Shrine, dedicated to Jurojin, the god of longevity. The Sumida River was still on our right but the neighborhood was sorely lacking in vegetation and had an industrial feel compliments of the three enormous tanks looming to the left of the shrine.

Tomoko-san bravely opened a little door in an ancient mound of what looked like lava on the right side of the shrine's courtyard and we all took a peek at a very old statue. 

Weather fondles a beast at Ishihama Jinja Shrine

The seventh shrine is as far from the sixth shrine as the sixth shrine is from the first shrine. There was a lone taxi parked next to Ishihama Jinja Shrine so we hopped in and tooled across Asakusa to Yoshiwara Jinja Shrine, dedicated to Benzaiten, the goddess of knowledge, art, beauty, and especially music. No pictures and I'm sorry about that because the statues flanking the entrance were remarkable for their gem-implanted eyes which sparkled ominously.

We hit one more shrine before we called it a complete pilgrimage, Ootori Jinja Shrine. We had already met all seven of the Seven Gods of Fortune so I have no idea to whom Ootori Jinja is dedicated. Perhaps the god Nara since the map pictures a man leaning against a deer. At any rate, I liked this shrine. Tomoko-san showed us the proper procedure for praying for everything you might imagine.

I approached this enormous wooden face and rubbed the forehead, then the eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks, and chin, and then ran my hands around the circumference in a clockwise fashion.

My prayer? Please, God, let us have lunch. It is nearly 2:00 pm and I am famished.

My prayer was answered in short order.