The Spiritual Tourist
Sometimes, especially after another hectic week hanging around airports, when the meetings blend into one long procession of smiling suits and bowing figures, I just have to escape.
Tokyo is a fantastic, throbbing place to live. It's hard not to be swept up with the infectious enthusiasm for life as I dart from meeting to meeting, but sometimes I need more than that. I need to find quietness, a place for contemplation and most of all a place to unwind and find piece of mind.
For the last 18 months or so, this place has been Nagano, or more specifically the Zenkoji Temple. A place where the noble past of Japan
is tantalisingly hidden just beneath the surface, where modern day life cohabits with touching and poignant reminders of days of old and where the devout rub shoulders with the movers and shakers of Japan in
quiet contemplation and prayer.
My first view of Nagano and the Japanese Alps, which soar to the sky in the centre of the Japanese archipelago, is from my car as it hurtles along the Expressway. A few hours away from Tokyo and already the air is cleaner, the colours sharper and I am surrounded by jagged tree lined hills. In winter the mountains wear their coats of snow with grim
determination and in Fall the changing of the leaves (kouyou) brings hoards of camera toting day-trippers to the area.
The beauty of these 3,000 meter high mountains has prompted people to call them the "Roof of Japan". Surrounded by these towering mountains, Nagano Prefecture has often been compared to the Alpine regions of Europe. Both areas are known for their rich natural splendour, peerless winter sports, and panoramic scenery.
Nagano used to be called Shinano or Shinsu, and many people still use these old names when referring to Nagano today. This is probably
because these terms, which sound nostalgic to some, fittingly represent people's impressions of the area. On most of my visits the area has been relatively free from the crowds I often associate with popular
Japanese places of interest and I have been free to wander the area in contemplative silence.
Several years ago, thousands converged on Nagano for the XVIII Winter Olympic Games. Many more millions of viewers tuned in via satellite television, radio, and still more followed the events as they unfolded in the newspapers, and magazines in every possible language, in every country, and in every home. The crowds are no new thing to Nagano as for centuries Nagano has been accepting travellers in their thousands. But Nagano is more then just a winter sport resort and you may want to take a look at what made Nagano the city it is today.
Nagano escaped the last war mostly unscathed, and so retains much of the old flair and flavour of an old Japanese city. On one warm Fall afternoon recently I wandered its quiet streets, it was too early for the season's first winter sports enthusiasts to arrive, and the summer tourists had already returned to Tokyo.
On each corner was an architectural delight, a small wooden temple nestled next to a convenience store, a delicately carved shrine stood dejectedly in a back alleyway and the faint sound of the temple bells
teased my senses.
Zenkoji Temple
I followed the winding streets towards the Zenkoji Temple. From olden times, Zenkoji Temple has not belonged to any particular religious denomination, making it an unusual temple and attracting followers
from all over the country.
It dates back to about the 8th Century and within the grounds of its precincts are countless monuments and buildings with legends of lore locked inside. Among these include the Hondo (the largest temple architecture in Eastern Japan), to the east of the temple are the Joyama Park, known for its cherry blossoms, and the Shinano and Higashiyama
art museums.
The temple feels special in a way that I can't quite explain. It's not the most architecturally appealing building in Japan, or the most atmospheric, but its unpretentious surroundings and the colourful
people which seem to populate its tree lined grounds give it a special air.
I normally sit, sipping a coke, on the steps of the main hall (Hondo) and watch the world go by. The Hondo is the largest wooden building in the temple precincts. It is built with a two-tiered, thatched
roof whilst the inner sanctuary and the worshippers' hall inside are constructed in a T-shape.
The building itself is huge and, with a height of thirty meters and floor-space of 1,766 square meters, it is the largest wooden building with a thatched roof in all Japan. In size it is exceeded only by the Todaiji Temple in Nara and the Sanju-sangendo Hall in Kyoto. It is a representative masterpiece of the architectural style for Buddhist buildings prevalent in the mid-Tokugawa Period. It was completed in 1707
and is now registered as a National Treasure.
Inside it the Amida Trinity is enshrined, the Amida Buddha with Kannon and Daiseishi Bodhisattvas on either side. According to popular belief, this image was made of gold by the Buddha himself and was brought
to Japan from China via Korea, as a gift from the King of Korea in 552 AD. The images of the founder of Zenkoji, Yoshimitsu Honda, and his wife and son are also worshipped here.
Actually, the original Trinity was never worshipped. In 642 A.D., Emperor Kogyoku decided the image was too sacred for human eyes and ordered that it be closed to view. Since that time no human has even set eyes on it. A duplicate was made, called the Maedachi Honzon, but it too was subsequently hidden from the public eye. It is opened for public viewing only once every seven years in a ceremony called Okaicho (exhibiting the image).
To the South East of the Hondo is the Daikanjin. This is a temple of the Tendai Sect. The chief priest of the Daikanjin is Archbishop Saien Ikeyama who is concurrently the high priest of the Tendai Sect. It
has a beautiful garden the style of which dates from the 14th Century and which is known as one of "Hundred Famous Garden of Japan". The bridge alone into the garden is worth the drive from Tokyo.
The buildings too are old and historic and right up to the present
have been used for Imperial lodgings. In the treasury house are stored over two hundred sacred documents, the most impressive one being an illustrated scroll of the famous novel, The Tale of Genji. This is Japan's oldest novel, written by a court lady around the year
1000 A.D. The scroll stored here dates from three hundred years later.
For centuries Japanese pilgrims have travelled the roads of Japan to scenic and religious places, including Kyoto, Tokyo, Koyasan and other sites. On the pilgrimage routes they would rest in tranquil Temples along the routes. While the number of pilgrims has decreased and the modern pilgrim's attire no longer consists of the traditional white robes (most of the time), the temples still offer a roof and comforts of the aesthetic life style. Temple lodging can be found throughout Japan and are a definite must on all but the most whirlwind of tours.
Although it is part of the Japanese Youth Hostel Group, the Zenko-ji Kyoju Youth Hostel, has achieved legendary status amongst backpackers. For me, its austere charm, its creaking wooden stairs and its 100
year old reed mats make it sublimely quaint.
Last time I arrived, stressed from a hectic week in Tokyo, the mama-san (owner of the hostel) guided me along creaking dimly lit corridors to my simple room. Characteristically she had already laid out my futon
on the floor. The room's charm lies in its simplicity, just a simple tatami floor and a futon.
On a recessed shelf sits a small vase of flowers, there is nothing more to distract you once the sliding paper screen doors are closed. No sooner had the mama-san bowed her way out of the room and silently
slid the doors closed I began to feel the tension and stress of modern Tokyo draining from me. The sounds of banging drums and monks at prayer floated through the still night air as sleep began to creep up on me.
As I began to drift off to sleep I wondered what stories the age old mats could tell me.
The next day I awoke feeling refreshed. However, I could still feel the finest tendrils of stress in my shoulders and headed off in search of an onsen. I drove for about 40 minutes to Mayama onsen (Ponpoko-no-yu) which had been recommended to me to the kind and knowledgeable lady in the tourist information office in Nagano.
The hot spring here was excavated in 1990 at a height of 286m and has a
natural temperature of 46°C. Although the temperature is a little on the hot side for my liking, the water's which are rich in sodium chloride are undoubtedly soothing. I sat in the outdoor bath, which perched on the side of the mountain, gave a commanding view of Nagano which glittered in the Fall sunshine many miles below me. Time seemed to slow, and the steam from the bath obscured my view. I stopped trying to understand the conversations around me and let myself slowly slip into a dreamy state.
Haiku
The area is intrinsically linked with Japan's greatest haiku master, Basho Matsuo. As I laid in the steaming waters surrounded by the rich scent of mountain pines and late flowering autumn flowers, I recalled one of his finest poems which was published in his great Sarashina Travelogue.
"The image of an old woman
Who is crying alone
With the moon as her companion"
The essence of Japan, and its beauty, is always in the simple. Stripped of the trappings of a materialistic life such beauty is everywhere we look in Japan. The secret is knowing how to look for it.
Haiku is a form of poetry that developed in Japan from about 400 years ago and one way of unlocking the inner beauty of this strange land. The style reached a peak in the first half of the Edo period (1600-1868), when Matsuo Basho wrote distinctive verses on his journeys round the country describing the seasons and the scenery of the places he visited.
In the ensuing Meiji period (1868-1912), haiku developed as a uniquely
Japanese form of poetry thanks to the efforts of another poet, Masaoka Shiki. It was Shiki who promoted a new form of haiku that emphasised realistic portrayals of nature and human life.
A haiku is a short verse of 17 syllables, divided into units of five, seven, and five syllables. Haiku use simple expressions in ways that allow deeply felt emotions and a sense of discovery to be readily
conveyed to the reader. Basho described the vista below me:
"The autumn wind is blowing.
But the chestnut burs
Are green."
After dressing I sat in the late afternoon sun, gazing at the snow-capped peaks I tried to compose my own poem:
The white snow melting
is the source of happiness.
Returning, I live.
Contentedly, I drove back to Tokyo, refreshed and ready for battle.
Questions?
If you want more information about this area you can email the author or check out our Asia Insiders page.
