KR&JP 2013 Travelogue Day 11: Tombs, shrine and manga in Kyoto

And it's goodbye to Osaka. Kind of, because I'm still in Keihanshin, and Kyoto is a short ride away. It was also my first workweek day in Japan, so I got a little experience of the legendary morning subway squeeze on my way to the intercity trail transfer station.

I alighted in Kyoto's Fushimi ward, where I would spend the rest of the morning, at the foot of Momoyama ("Peach Mountain"). Momoyama, a few kilometres south of Kyoto's city centre, has some urban areas around its base, but much of it is densely forested with trees old (bottom). This made the long walk up the tracks to Fushimi-Momoyama Castle gorgeously scenic (top).

The interior of the reconstructed castle (top left) is closed to visitors, but the grounds are open for ambling. Two main keeps (top right) tower over the smaller structures and gates (bottom left). The castle was constructed by Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and while not particularly large, is a little extra-luxurious on the inside, having been also intended to be his residence after retirement. The Toyotomi clan crest of the paulownia/kiri, which was also adopted as the seal of the present-day Japanese Government, can be seen in some of the castle's decorative components (bottom right).

A short distance away to the west is what I consider a major historical landmark for Kyoto: the tomb of Emperor Kanmu. The tomb is forested over and fenced off, but it's a beautiful place to walk around and pay a visit to the resting place of the emperor who not only created the title of shogun, but also put Kyoto on the map. Yes, Kanmu establishing Kyoto as his imperial capital, starting the Heian period. From then on, it was where emperors would remain for over a millennium -- even after the ascendant shoguns reduced them to figureheads a few centuries later -- all the way to the end of the 19th century and the shift of the re-empowered imperial dynasty's capital to Tokyo by Emperor Meiji.

Incidentally, Meiji's own tomb is a short walk southeast of Kanmu's. It's also fenced off, but the grey stone-covered tomb mound is clearly visible (top right). One can see the golden imperial crest of chrysanthemum/kikka on each door of the inner gate too (left centre). Visiting in autumn, I could enjoy the sight of the rich and diverse hues of the trees at the site (bottom). The tomb is located at a substantial height, with one cleared side facing the southern city, which afforded me a good view down (left top).

Walking southward down the very long flight of stairs (right) leading out from the Meiji tomb, I ran into a small shrine complex (left bottom), dedicated to some major figures in Meiji's administration (top left and top centre).

Another place I came across unexpectedly on the way to the station was the tomb of Emperors Komyo and Suko, the second and third emperors, respectively, of the Northern Court (the so-called Ashikaga Pretenders). They ruled from Kyoto during a period in which the imperial line was temporarily split into two branches, the other ruling from the Southern Court at Yoshino. Fukakusa no Kita no Misasagi, another important imperial tomb, is also in Fushimi, but I did not have the time to locate it.

Due to the dense schedule, morning activities were powered by a salmon onigiri (top left) and a boiled egg (top right) from a convenience store. The egg was borderline hard-boiled and was seasoned within the shell, so it had a slightly salty taste without the need for addition of the seasoning. The uniquely Japanese lactic acid beverage, Calpis (bottom left), is not really my thing, but it had an interesting taste. I also grabbed a genuine Japanese Pocky (bottom right) before heading up the next mountain destination. I have fond memories of these from my anime days.

After a train ride a little further up north, I entered the centrepiece of my day's agenda: Fushimi Inari Taisha. The gargantuan shrine complex is dedicated to Inari, the patron kami of the mercantile class (among other patronages), and is the focal shrine for Inari enshrinement. One of Inari's manifestations is the fox/kitsune, beautiful stylized statues of which appear at many places (right and top left) in the shrine complex. Par for Inari shrines, vermilion torii straddle every turn (left top and left bottom).

Apart from the requisite cabinet shrines (top left) and enclave shrines (top right), there are some large central shrine buildings in a variety of architectural forms (bottom left and bottom right), mostly of the later styles.

The place is also loaded; gold-plated decorative finials and other parts abound (top left and top right), aesthetically in harmony with their vermilion-painted backdrops. Shrine visitors also leave walls of votive icons, including some in the shapes of torii (bottom left) and kitsune faces (bottom right).

I decided to go for the full shrine experience, and walk the entire mountain trail circuit, which took about three hours even though I ran about half its length. The trail is paved, so it's not a bad walk, assuming you don't get lost; sometimes, you come across a platform that seems like the end of the road (bottom right), only to notice another path leading even further up.

The trail's most distinctive feature is the thousands of torii (top left) that straddle it every couple of metres, creating a tunnel effect. Most are vermilion-painted wood, but a few are stone (bottom left). I also passed by numerous roadside shrines (top centre) and small shrine buildings (top right) branching off the trail, each of a unique design.

I finally reached the top of the mountain (top left) and its peak shrine (top centre), and rested for a while to enjoy the view (top right) before descending via the return path (bottom), also lined with thousands of torii.

Having only had the aforementioned Pocky, and then an Asahi beer at a cafe (top) to fuel my ascent, I decided to grab a bite at one of the restaurants that can be found -- usually in clusters -- along the trail on my way down. The specialty of this area is kitsune udon (bottom), a dashi soup of buckwheat noodles with pieces of fried thin-cut tofu called aburaage -- said to be a favorite of the kitsune, and therefore very appropriate for an Inari shrine.

The trek took up most of my afternoon, so hurried down to the city and spent my last remaining slot of the day at the Kyoto International Manga Museum. The museum is comprehensive, covering the history of manga from its origins to the present day, and featuring a number of special purpose rooms and activity areas. It also has a lawn where people can relax and read from their collections.

I spread dinner over three spots. Two of them were yakitori houses (top row), and at one of which I also tried some lovely Japanese fruit liqueur (bottom right). Most outstanding, though, was the stewed pork strip (bottom left). After tasting this awesome savory and tender dish in Osaka, I hopped around the neighborhood until I finally found a place that served it.

(top) Dog is happy to be prohibited from entering Emperor Kanmu's tomb grounds
(bottom) Automated parking warden only folds down and lets your wheel pass over it when you pay the required amount

KR&JP 2013 Travelogue Day 10: Sakai kofun, Nara palace and Osaka fugu

A lot of outer- and out-of-city travel meant I had to get an early start for the day.

Osaka's city transit network is connected to the intercity rail network for the Keihanshin (Greater Osaka) area, including surrounding cities and prefectures. As my morning's itinerary required me to be south out of the city, I headed to Namba station and took the Nankai line to cover both of my morning destinations (this here is a "rapi:t" express train, and not the one I took, but it looked really cool).

The first being Sumiyoshi Taisha, also my first Shinto shrine complex visit. The taisha is located well south of Osaka, about half the way to Sakai, and has a station very close by. As one enters the huge complex, flashes of bright vermilion, characteristic of the Shinto palette, leap out from the background of dark green foliage and beige stone.

This taisha is the high shrine over all shrines dedicated to the three kami (domain spirits) of Sumiyoshi. Long stone pathways lines with lamp-posts (top left) run along the grounds, and past numerous "cabinet shrines" (top right) dedicated to individual kami. Other sights include the wall of sake barrels dedicated to the shrine, and the wall of votive tablets from devotees.

It is also host to examples of the eponymous "Sumiyoshi-zukuri" style of shrine architecture. This style predates the arrival of Buddhism from the mainland, and is therefore free of the architectural influences of the same. Dark wood and vermilion-painted pillars support roofs of thatch or bronze, many ending in forked "chigi" finials characteristic of Sumiyoshi-zukuri.

A few washing tubs of different designs (top left and top right) are available for devotees. Statuary is limited to the one horse I found (bottom left), and a few trees are also marked with the typical Shinto yorishiro -- thick, tasseled rope and folded paper links that are associated with the presence of kami.

I hopped back onto the Nankai to head further south to Sakai, a place I'd wanted to see for many years. after hearing of the impressive kofun, or tumuli, that dot the place. While China and Korea have their share of tumuli -- some, like Mount Li (Qin Shi Huang Di's tomb), being rather grand -- Japan's tumulus-building tradition took a design detour into the shape of the keyhole, often surrounded by a moat, and liberally sprinkled with artistically-unique clay figurines called haniwa (bottom, second from right).

Sakai features numerous kofun of both the round and keyhole kind (top right), and I passed a few of these while navigating the vicinity of Mozu Kofungun there (top left and top centre). But the biggest by far is Daisen Kofun, which is, by area, the largest grave in the world. This massive keyhole tumulus is thought to be the grave of the 16th emperor (by traditional lineage) of Japan, Nintoku, who reigned in the early 4th century CE. While the tomb, surrounded by three moats, was probably constructed to have clean edges and faces (concept model at bottom extreme right), it ended up weathered and grown over into a keyhole-shaped forested hill (bottom extreme left). The observation tower (bottom, second from left) was not open , but it is still an awesome thing to view from across the moat at ground level.

Sakai is also famous for another reason: it is the birthplace of one Sen no Rikyu, a Sengoku-period tea master who is practically the father of the Japanese tea ceremonies and traditions. A traditional Edo-period tea house still stands near the kofungun, and I thought I would just check it out and grab a cuppa on my way to the museum.

I ended up in a rather awkward and unexpected situation: a solemn tea ceremony, with everyone very much Japanese, and dressed in kimono or formal-wear. And among them, wet, haggard, foreign me in travel clothes, holding seiza posture for as long as I could bear it, before collapsing into the more familiar and comfortable cross-legged position, nursing throbbing haunches (seiza is something with which you have to grow up, it would seem).

My hosts and co-sippers were very understanding, however, and we participated in a lovely experience of tea preparation, serving, and drinking. I just sort of followed everyone else's lead, which worked out pretty well.

The Sakai museum (top left), also close to the kofungun, contains numerous artifacts from the earliest periods in Japanese history, including a Gaya-style cuirass, kabuto like the one at the entrance (top right) and some that have suspended disks like in the Samguk style, a Samguk-style saddle and a 5th century haniwa horse with stirrups. It also features a 3-metre-long matchlock gun from the gunpowder age. A little exhibition on the Daisen Kofun has an interesting superimposition display, comparing it with Mount Li and Khufu's Great Pyramid.

I took the Nankai back to Osaka to change trains for an east-bound to Nara City. Nara, which is the capital city of the prefecture of the same name, was one of the historical imperial capitals of Japan for 8 decades in the 8th century, which came to be called the Nara Period. Nara's mascot is the deer, a relationship rooted in a tale from Shinto folklore.

The main attraction for the history buff here would be Heijo-Kyo Palace, the seat of the empire from when Nara was Japan's capital. Much of the foundation has been exposed, but most of the palace park is bare, but for two reconstructed exceptions: Suzaku Gate (top left) and the Daigokuden, or Great Hall of State (bottom left), in which the also-reconstructed Takamikura, or imperial throne (top right), is placed together with other palace components. Great views of the site can be had from both Suzaku Gate (top centre) and Daigokuden (bottom centre). A few illustrations (bottom right) imagine what ceremonial assemblies would have been like in the heyday of Nara, when it was still Heijo-Kyo (note the three-footed bird on the standard, by the way).

Around the main palace grounds and the gardens (bottom left), I visited the locations of a few satellite palace buildings (top left) and some small museum buildings that exhibited remains from the excavations (top centre and top right). Clouds rolling over the mountains (bottom right) and bagpipe dude playing among the ruins (bottom centre) gave the place a momentary Scottish atmosphere.

Near Suzaku Gate is the main site museum. It's not particularly large, but it has a nice theatre for screening short documentaries and docu-dramas about Heijo-Kyo, as well as a life-sized reconstruction of a period ship of the sort that Japanese emissaries would have used. In here, one can read and watch about important figures in relations between Tang China and Nara Japan, such as the Japanese emissaries Abe no Nakamaro, Kibi no Makibi, Fujiwara no Kiyokawa and Tajihi no Hironari, and the particularly determined Chinese Buddhist monk Ganjin (Jianzhen).

Unfortunately, I did not have time to see other major places like Saiho-Ji (top left), or the famous Kasuga Taisha and Deer Park. I spent the early evening wandering the (fairly common in Japan) roofed leisure streets downtown (bottom left and bottom centre), and checking out other cultural sights, such as the statue of Gyoki (top right), a Nara-based monk who was one of Japan's most famous historical Buddhist personalities. I took a little break to listen to Soramoyuuto (bottom right), who performed a couple of songs at the public space near the Gyoki statue, and well enough to convince me to get myself a copy of their EP.

Plenty of interesting observations for the day, including winding stair rails (left) -- either for the aging population or to discourage skateboard stunts -- and cars designed using the "kei" aesthetic (right). I also noticed that bus drivers turn off their engines at traffic signals, in order to conserve fuel and limit pollution. And, unlike in Dubai, you never have to pay for water at restaurants and cafes. On the other hand, unlike in Dubai, and for that matter unlike in neighboring Korea, free/complimentary WiFi is practically nonexistent; wherever public WiFi is found, it seems to be run by DoCoMo or some other operator, and is therefore accessible only through a service subscription.

On the topic of restaurants, I had a toast breakfast at Sumiyoshi Station's Lanvin Coffee and Grill; I noticed that served toast in Japan tends to be white and very thick. I also gave the KFC near Nara station a try (top right); it's quite different here, and quite good too, offering soup, rice balls and chicken brushed with a savory sauce and bits of nori. In the evening in Nara, I tried the famous katsu curry (bottom left) and some kind of mash burger (bottom right).

I cannot see her tonight

I have to give her up

So I will eat fugu

The main culinary adventure of the day was during my night back in Osaka, wandering the shopping, drinking and eating places along the streets of Abeno ward (top left). I scouted about for a reputable-looking restaurant for supper, because they were the only kind that were permitted to serve the potentially fatal dish I was about to try. I only had raw fugu, in the form of strips (bottom left) and slices (bottom right), with some warm sake (top right). It had a mild taste, not unlike white fish sushi, but with a slightly more chewy texture.

Now quite pleased with myself, I ambled around Abeno a little longer, sampling different sake (bottom left and bottom right). One of the more interesting bars I visited was Blue Sky Bar (top left) at a corner of a place I think was called Abeny East. It's an open-air bar -- not a common sight here -- and is decorated with odds and ends, plus clippings about it from newspapers (top right). Yes, it's sort of famous. Patrons sit around the kiosk, served and chatted up by Matsa, the charismatic tender. Matsa knows a little English, and has a small hanging drum that he dramatically strikes whenever someone cracks a joke (from what I figured), as pictured above. I spent the remainder of the late hours there, pleased at my very productive day.