Daishin'in Daze

Bamboo and maple alive with song
Sun rising tiled peaks
Paper screens sift afternoon sunlight
A moment swept away (LD 8/30/09)


It seems that all of my time in Japan thus far has been in preparation of today. I packed my five bags (one will recall I began with two) and worked fastidiously on the seminar schedule until late afternoon. My body was only running on one weak cup of green tea, but any hunger had faded hours ago in the face of such frantic finishing work. 

There was just enough time to hop on bicycles and peddle through narrow Kyoto streets to Kurikame, a lovely Japanese café that stayed open past the typical 2:00 lunch closing. Taishō era low tables and chairs surrounded a raised tatami section where three young women sipped tea and ate cake. We were immediately brought English menus, since no one expects white people to speak a lick of Japanese, but the woman was delighted to hear me order in Japanese. We both chose zaru-soba (cold soba noodles with tsuyu [sauce]) and mini unagi donburi (eel and rice). As I was admiring an enormous chunk of Andean rock salt that flanked my right side, a large tray was placed in front of me; soba piled high on a tatami bed, not unlike the restaurant’s own, and accompanying it were little taro (related to potato) balls, strips of Japanese gourd, and a small dish of yellow and purple tsukemono (pickles). All this for only 1200 yen (about $13). I've learned that regardless of the considerable expenses one can easily accrue when traveling in this great place, lunch is ALWAYS reasonable. Even in the most expensive of areas one would be hard pressed to find anything over $20.  

After dining, we peddled quickly back to the hotel and (over) loaded a taxi with our stacks of belongings. On the way to the temple we pieced together student packets while the driver adeptly navigated the winding streets. Myōshin-ji 妙心寺is a Rinzai Zen Temple in northwest Kyoto. It is a very large complex, I discovered, with numerous sub-temples (46 here and about 3000 total). We dropped Cynthea to meet with the Vice Abbot and I was taken to Daishin-in 大心院. I took off my shoes and a young woman welcomed me in. 

I was expecting dorm-style accommodations, so you can imagine the look upon my face when I was led to a cozy guest residence with tatami floors and very simple but tasteful décor. An airy shōji screen opens into a tea/gathering room, which is surrounded by bedrooms on all sides. My room looks out onto a rock garden and bamboo forest. A perfect breeze snaked throughout the space and warm sunlight shone through the dark wood overhangs. This place is almost unbelievable. So Quiet. So Peaceful. So…Zen.

The group of students from UW had all arrived by this point, and we met at Shunkōin, another subtemple, to say hello and go grab a bite. Just out the north gate and down the road is a tiny little place called “Raku Raku” (Joy Joy or Fun Fun). The place was completely dark and ostensibly closed. I was truly disappointed to learn that we would alternatively go to a ramen shop (I hate ramen!!), but then the vice abbot’s mother rode up on her bicycle from the temple to tell Cynthea that the chef was coming at 6:30. Disaster averted! We waited atop a small bridge and watched groups of young people ride by in clans, laughing.

Akira-san, the owner of Raku Raku, approached our group and gave us the thumbs up to come inside. “Is there beer?” “Yes!” Bob Marley pictures and house music greeted us at the door and we all sat along a long bar. Two of our students volunteered to work there for the evening and assist Akira, and thank god they did or I may not have received my tall glass of cold beer for some time. The chefs went to work at once, turning out dish after dish of delicious food for this big group (which the place could barely hold). The first dish to make it my way was a seafood salad (shrimp, some flaky fish, tiny squid) with peas, fresh herbs, bamboo shoots, and vinaigrette. Next was charcoal-grilled chicken pieces topped with negi (green onions) and a splash of tare (kind of sweet sauce). A tray of perfectly cooked roast potatoes with a dash of parmesan arrived next, and shortly after I was presented with was a seaweed and nagaimo (see previous post) salad. 

I had heard Akira was a singer/guitar player, and the décor of the establishment exuded a reggae/hippy/music lover vibe, so I asked if he knew the band Phish. As it turned out, he loved them! (Surprisingly, however, he had never heard of the String Cheese Incident). He put on a DVD of the Talking Heads playing in NYC at a church and I decided this was my new favorite place in Kyoto (temples, what temples??). Everyone else went home by eight, and although I had a nine o’ clock curfew (sadly this is no joke) there was no way I was leaving before drinking at least one more beer and rocking out to awesome music in a far away land. Akira got online and requested my FB friendship and we talked about Jamaica and Hawaii. I’m going back later this week to help him cook (just for fun!!) and play the new Phish shows from my IPOD. I might go there every night, in fact.

As this small world would have it, three young Americans walked in to Raku Raku shortly after everyone but me and two others had left. They were from Washington state (as all the other students in our program are) and one of them had met Akira while staying at Daishin’in. How random is that?? 

At 8:42 I succumbed to the fact that I really did have a curfew, so I handed out some business cards and ran out the door into the night. Walking through the temple gates and down the main southern facing cobblestone path alone at night was so romantic. Japan, and Buddhist Japan more specifically, courts me like a lover. I dropped my bags in my tatami room and took a traditional Japanese bath. It was not even ten but the only sounds to be heard were crickets singing in the night. 

Being the digital rager that I am, however, I stealthily tip-toed down the smooth wood corridor to the temple’s entrance, where I had heard there was internet access. A young man with a shaved heat stood hunched over two large fish tanks, dropping in colored flakes. I apologized for coming so late, but he did not seem to mind. I introduced myself, as did he, and I learned he was one of the Myoshinji monks. He showed me how to use the internet and I took a seat, half checking Facebook and email and half watching him methodically sprinkle fish flakes. 

I posted my blog, tip-toed back to my room, and unfolded my futon. Laying my head to rest on the buckwheat-filled pillow, I sighed deeply, perfectly content. Another fulfilling day in Japan, indeed.