高野山 (Mt. Kôya)

(Note! Please click on images for larger versions!)

I had only just arrived in Kyoto for a night when I set back out for Mt. Kôya. The train system in Japan is amazing. It was extremely confusing at first, but there is method to their madness. Trains run on time, all the time. One of my favorite features is the movable seats; the seatbacks can move forward and back to allow passengers to face one another, and ALL the seats are comfortable (if you're lucky enough to get one). I'm not looking forward to returning to Chicago and being at the mercy of a sadly, badly, madly run public transportation system.

My route took me from Kyoto to Ôsaka to Mt. Kôya. I took the "slow" and cheaper train to Ôsaka which took a measly 25 minutes. I bought myself a bentô (above) and enjoyed on my comfortable ride to Mt. Kôya. A couple of kids sat across from me, staring at me from time to time. "o-bentô!" one of the kids happily exclaimed. She was 6, and her speaking ability was probably on par with mine.


I didn't bring much to do on the train, counting on the views to make the time go by. For local travelers, though, PSP handheld games and cell phones with television capability whittle the hours away.

When will the US catch up with Japanese cellular phones? Probably never. I just remember the sunset on Mt. Fuji; I felt high tech with my snazzy Nikon camera, but then my Japanese neighbors busted out their tiny solar panel cell phone chargers as soon as the sunlight touched our faces. I checked my cell phone there: full reception.

Luckily I didn't need television capability on my cell phone. The views I had counted on did not let me me down. Me and other international backpackers would spring to life as trees cleared on the steep train ride into the mountains surrounding Mt. Kôya.


I arrived at Mt. Kôya and checked into my "hotel", a genuine Buddhist temple. 清浄心院 (shojoushin in) was remarkably peaceful and beautiful. I immediately went to the bath to wash the day off. The temple included two perfectly maintained gardens, 3 stories of guest lodging, a ceremony hall, and more that we didn't even have access to.

Ikebana inside the monastery's dining hall.

We were treated to a Buddhist vegetarian dinner. I have never had better tofu before in my life. Slightly sweet, not too soft, yet still melted in your mouth. However, I was starting to notice that this was going to be less of a Buddhist experience than I had expected. The other international guests were at times loud, talked about anything but temple life, and included a family that filmed their toddler as he loudly paraded the dining hall, shouting words in a language I didn't know. My room was huge; the sleeping quarters itself was a 9 tatami mat floor (13 meters square?), and included a tea room, balcony, sink area... and an extremely Buddhist television.

I was still pleased with the accomodations though. My balcony overlooked a garden with a small pond, the room was serene, and the whole monastery was silent after dinner (luck deposited the rambunctious toddler "celebrity" in another building).


I spent the night wandering the largest graveyard in Japan, the Okonoin cemetary. I poured water over my hands and rinsed out my mouth (customary before entering a holy space in Japan), and as soon as I started walking I was surrounded my ancient monuments of stone. Confronted with simultaneous fear, awe, and knowledge of my own mortality, I was almost brought to tears. My breath quickened and my pace slowed as I walked the path at dusk. The main path was over 2km, and every few meters there were side-paths entering the dark palace of gravestones scattered amongst the trees. I thought of the massive gravestones above as smaller versions of ancient trees that sprouted all along the mounatinside. I imagined the inhabitants' souls joining the ancient trees.

I stayed well into the night, and even passed a large group of children, sitting on small steps on the main path. A teacher asked for volunteers for who wanted to go alone, first, down the path. I had seen people in masks hiding along the path, and the gloomy atmosphere was instantly lifted; the teachers had transformed the cemetary into a improvised haunted house. For the next hour, screams of glee and terror echoed off the hills of moss, stone, and maple tree trunks.

I returned to the temple exhausted and ready for sleep. The morning services would begin at 6AM the next day, and I certainly did not want to miss them...