The Japan Saga, Part IV: Takayama and the Rest

A river fringed with snow in Takayama

During the night I spent in Yudanaka, a heavy blanket of snow fell on the mountains of central Japan.  In the morning, I had to trudge through deep drifts of the white stuff to get back to the train station.  After such a spectacular day with the snow monkeys, I was sad to be leaving so soon, but I was also pretty psyched about my next destination:  Takayama.  I took the slow local train back to Nagano where I was supposed to catch a connection that would take me to Naoetsu, where I would make another transfer.  This is where my inability to understand Japanese got me into a little trouble.  The heavy snowfall during the night had apparently made the mountain passes between Nagano and Naoetsu impassable; the train would therefore only go as far as Kurohime (a middle of nowhere small village stop).  They made frequent announcements about this change while I was at Nagano station, but of course, I was completely unaware of them.  I unknowingly boarded the train and wondered why it was so empty.  When the train stopped at an open platform and didn’t continue on, there followed several minutes of confusion before I was made to understand (mostly by way of miming) that the pass was closed and I now had two options:  wait for a bus that would take me to Naoetsu (which could take many additional hours, provided the bus could actually navigate the mountain pass), or take the train back to Nagano and try a different route.  I went with the latter – eventually traveling all the way south to Nagoya and transferring to the Hida line to reach Takayama.  This roundabout course took the entire day;  I didn’t arrive in Takayama until well after dark. 

Zenkoji Temple Inn in Takayama

After checking in at my hostel, I spent the rest of the night relaxing in the warmth of my private room and enjoying the free wifi.  I was too tired to do anything else.  In the morning I woke with renewed vigor and began to explore the super fascinating hostel I was staying in.  Zenkoji Temple Inn is actually maintained by and connected to a Buddhist temple.  It was really quiet on this morning and seemed to be empty – I know I wasn’t the only one who slept there the previous night, but it appeared that the other guests had already checked out.  I made myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen and went to check out the snow-covered garden.  This didn’t last long – it was freezing outside.  I decided instead to go investigate the temple.

Since coming to Asia, I’ve been able to get a close look at quite a few Buddhist temples.  But on this morning I was in for a special treat – I was invited to sit in on the morning prayer.  It was short and pretty much what you would expect – slow, throaty chanting interspersed with the ringing of a gong and the lighting of candles.  I just sat there breathing in incense and trying to absorb through osmosis some of the spiritual essence that seemed to permeate the room.  The altar of this temple seemed more elaborately decorative than a lot of the others I’d seen – lots of gold and brass adorning idols and dangling from above.  It was, however, much less colorful than the style of Buddhist altars I’d seen in Korea (see the Wow, I’m really in Asia blog post from last October for an example).

The alter of Zenkoji Buddhist Temple

An even more interesting experience presented itself to me after prayer time.  This particular temple has a certain feature that is pretty rare in Japan.  It’s called Kaidan Meguri, which means “Traversing the Path of Buddha.”  Here’s how it works:  To the right of the altar, there’s a short stairwell descending into total darkness, which leads to an unlit circular passageway that runs under the altar.  One is supposed to enter, and then navigate the passage by sense of touch alone.  The idea is that, with vision removed, one is guided by faith.  The goal is to locate an ancient padlock known as the “Key to Paradise” which locks a door; behind this door is a sacred Buddha statue which no one is permitted to see.  When the lock is found, one is supposed to take a mindful moment to enjoy the fulfillment of locating the key and say a prayer for sins of the past or hopes for the future.  Doing this washes away sins and lays a path to Goku-raku Jodo – the Paradise.  One then continues on, completing the circle and reemerging into the light.  The circuit is a symbol of death and re-birth – and also of Buddhist enlightenment.  One enters as a human with faults, experiences the trials of darkness, attains peace, and returns to the light. 

The stairway leading to Kaidan Meguri

I was permitted to experience Kaidan Meguri for myself.  Apparently anyone who stays at the hostel may have this opportunity, but many don’t take advantage.  I, for one, was fairly certain I wouldn’t get another chance for such an experience.  So I took a plunge into the darkness.  There was something kind of unnerving about being unable to see anything at all and having to find my way by sense of touch.  I think I was on the verge of having flashbacks to those cheap haunted houses I frequented as a middle schooler.  I reminded myself that I was actually in a sacred place that was certainly not in the business of scaring me out of my wits.  Still, I made sure I had my phone with me, just in case I got too freaked out and needed a light.

I found the Key to Paradise with very little trouble, but strangely had a difficult time focusing my thoughts while I stood there.  I took some deep breaths in the cold, close air, but the harder I tried to concentrate, the more mental clarity eluded me.  I eventually made some hasty, vague well wishes and continued through the circuit and out the other side.  Rather than obtaining peace, I mostly felt disappointed in myself for my impoverished spirituality.  At least I didn’t cheat by bringing out my phone.

I spent the rest of the day wandering around Takayama – a place surprisingly easy to navigate on foot.  There are lots of reasons to visit this undeniably charming little town – it’s quaint, quiet, and laid back compared to the hustle and bustle of the cities; it sleeps in the shadow of the beautiful Hida mountains; it’s usually covered by a pristine and frequently replenished layer of snow this time of year; it’s a sake brewing hotspot; and there are countless little artisans’ shops selling locally handmade crafts.  But perhaps the biggest reason this town draws so many historically-minded and city-weary travelers is because of Sanmachi – a very handsome historic district in the center of town featuring Japan’s best preserved specimens of Edo-era (1603-1867) architecture.  More than just about any other place in the country, this is a spot where, with a little imagination, one can get a small glimpse of what Japan looked like in the days of the Samurai.  

The Edo-era architecture of the Sanmachi historic district

When I left the Temple Inn, it was snowing again.  The snowfall intensified into a virtual white out by the time I reached the river.  As I came upon the Sanmachi historic district, I felt as though I had walked onto a movie set.  The arresting sight of old wooden merchant houses, lattice windows adorn with icicles, and narrow lanes framed by the falling snow struck me as singularly enchanting.  This was Japan’s traditional side – I managed to find it, hiding out here in the mountains.  I felt myself a world away from the noise and congested clutter of the cities I’d visited earlier in the week. 

The Edo-era architecture of the Sanmachi historic district

The snow soon began to let up as I ambled aimlessly around the three compact streets that make up Sanmachi.  The old merchant houses have been converted mostly into cafes, boutiques, souvenir shops, and sake breweries.  Since the people who make up this region have been utilizing the surrounding forests for centuries, it’s no surprise that this part of Japan is known for its woodworking.  There were many crafts of this variety on offer – everything from lacquered bowls and jewelry boxes to finely-decorated chopsticks.  It was here that I did the bulk of my souvenir shopping in Japan, finding many unique gifts for friends and family back home. 

Takayama's traditional feel is enhanced by the brilliance of the morning's snowfall

The sun came out, and after snacking on a small lunch of Hida beef (a regional specialty), I made my way out of the historic district to the eastern edge of town, hoping to find some high ground from which to get a view of the entire area.  What I found instead was a forest-enveloped shrine and a cemetery.  Rather than being creeped out by cemeteries, I’ve always rather enjoyed their stillness and serenity.  This one in particular was all powder and loveliness on this now sunny winter’s day.  I was content to stay for a while in the refuge of the soaring evergreens listening to the pitter-patter of snow-melt dripping from the boughs.  Where had this peace of mind been that morning while I stood mind buzzing before the Key to Paradise?  Perhaps it’s a natural outdoor setting that my spirit requires. 

A forested cemetery on a hill east of downtown Takayama

The front of the sake brewery

Later in the afternoon I visited a traditional sake brewery.  No fancy, sterile modern equipment here; everything is done by hand the old-fashioned way.  I was quickly whisked away by a middle-aged Japanese woman who was intent on giving me a tour and explaining the sake making process, even though she spoke no English and could see that I didn’t speak Japanese.  Still, she did her best to convey to me a sense of what goes on here, and she actually did an admirable job by means of some very animated miming.  The tour concluded with a tasting of two different kinds of sake – one hot, one cold.  The whole visit lasted about 20 minutes and was totally free.  Can’t beat that with a baseball bat.

Thus concluded my visit to Takayama.  I returned to Micah’s place in Toyohashi via a 3-hour train ride.  After a solid week on the move, I had decided to spend my few remaining days in Japan taking it easy.  I had originally planned to make one final trip to Tokyo, but ultimately decided against it for a few reasons.  Mainly, I was running low on money and I didn’t want to further infringe upon Micah’s hospitality by asking to borrow more (see Japan Saga: Part I if you missed that story).  Also – I couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to convince myself that Tokyo was worth a visit.  I didn’t have anything in particular that I wanted to see there (maybe the Tsukiji Fish Market, if anything).  I don’t know, it just seems like it’s kind of the conventional wisdom that, if you’re visiting Japan, you’re supposed to see Tokyo.  It’s expected.  But beyond being just another chaotic Asian mega-metropolis, what does it have to offer?  Not even the expats living in Japan could adequately answer that one for me.  I’ve never really been much of a big city person anyway – I tire pretty quickly of concrete and crowds.  So in the end, I decided to skip it. 

A field of yellow flowers is blooming even in January on the Atsumi Peninsula

This is not to say that I was idle for my final couple of days in Japan.  For one, I got to experience the blaring neon madness of a Japanese arcade (complete with a dude in skinny jeans sweating profusely while killing it on Dance Dance Revolution…..sometimes stereotypes turn out to be true).  I also got to enjoy a leisurely afternoon driving around the Atsumi Peninsula with Micah and his friend Nick.  We scrambled around on beach rocks, frolicked in a field of yellow flowers, and enjoyed some fresh oysters and warm sake for lunch.  That night, my trip was capped off with another game of cards with Micah’s expat friends at his apartment.

Micah and Nick exploring a rocky beach on the Atsumi Peninsula

I feel like I should end this four-part series about my travels in Japan with some sort of profound overarching observation about what it all means, about how the real Japan compares with the romanticized movie version I talked about in Part I.  But it isn’t coming to me.  I will say this though – I had a really fantastic time on my trip.  I enjoyed it even more than I thought I would.  I was struck by how it is simultaneously so similar to, yet vastly different from Korea.  I was grateful to be reunited with an old friend.  I was glad to explore a new place and dispel the impression that Asian cultures are more or less the same.  I enjoyed enriching and complicating my notions of history, nationalism, taste, and tradition.  Ultimately, I will say the following about Japan:  No matter what you envision this country to be, be it ultra-modern cities crisscrossed with futuristic bullet trains, or ancient temples nestled on a misty hillside, or sidewalks packed with suit-wearing businessmen gazing with bloodshot eyes at their smartphones, or a kimono-wearing old woman silently pouring you a cup of tea – chances are, you’ll find it here somewhere.  You only have to go for yourself and have a look.  

The Philippine Sea seen from a beach on the Atsumi Peninsula