Tale of Gunji: Romantic Journey to the Mother of All Soap Operas
By NAO GUNJI
Rafu English Assistant Editor
Friday, March 13, 2009

A Rafu reporter visits Shiga, Kyoto to participate in the millennial birthday celebration of the world’s oldest novel.

NAO GUNJI/Rafu Shimpo
Ladies demonstrate how to wear a traditional 12-layered kimono at Shimogami Shrine. It takes about 20 minutes to finish the process. The layers represented wealth. Noble women kept the layers in the summer with lighter fabrics.

Byodo-In Temple was established in 1052 in Uji by
Kampaku (chief advisor to the Emperor) Yorimichi Fujiwara.
It was originally Yorimichi’s father, Michinaga’s county
house, but the son changed this elaborate architecture in to
a Buddhist temple to honor his late father’s spirit.

French reporter, Bruno, checks out the Okiyome water at Ishiyama Temple.
Visitors are suggested to purify themselves by rinsing their mouths and
washing their hands before entering the Temple.

At Shosuikaku’s Nishijin-Ori factory, an employee demonstrates how to use a Jacquard loom. The history of Nishijin-Ori (Nishijin silk textiles) goes back to the 8th century in Kyoto.

Shimogamo Shrine (Lower Kamo River) is one of the
oldest Shinto shrines in Japan. Established in the 6th
century, Lady Murasaki often visited here with her family.

The story of a legendary libertine and womanizer, Don Juan is set in the 14th century. Casanova—aka “the world’s greatest lover”—lived in the 18th century. The “greatest” lover of our time, Hugh Hefner is currently 82 years old and dates 19-year-old twins… Great. But none of them is as original, beautiful, intelligent, or suave as our man, Hikaru “Shining” Genji.

Genji is the noble, playboy charac­ter of Murasaki Shikibu’s “The Tale of Genji (Genji Monogatari),” which is considered to be the world’s oldest novel. It is widely known that Lady Murasaki started working on the plot for this epic love story some time around 1008 in Shiga, Japan. In 2008, Japanese celebrated the millennial anniversary of the novel by hosting numerous events throughout the year. Especially in Shiga and Kyoto, where many chapters of the story are staged, they launched intense campaigns to boost up the tourism in the region while promoting the novel and the 11th century kizoku (aristocrat) culture.

Last September, six international journalists, including myself, were in­vited by the Kinki Nippon Tourist Co., (KNT) to the 4-day “Tale of Genji” press tour. The group contained two reporters from the U.S., two from the U.K., two from France, and one from Germany.

Having grown up in Tokyo, I stud­ied the novel throughout my school years. I read the manga version of it, and oh boy, it was very scandalous for a young reader. It was so full of sex that I was totally mesmerized, but not necessarily in a literary way. As a Japanese, I’m ashamed to say that I had never had a chance to appreciate it for more than just sex and catfights. I looked forward to the trip as an op­portunity to reencounter the novel and traditional Japanese culture.

The tour appropriately started in Shiga, the birthplace of “The Tale of Genji.”

I arrived at Kansai International Airport in the evening. It was incred­ibly humid. The online forecast sug­gested I would see many rainy days during the trip, but I didn’t know that the island nation was expecting a large typhoon that weekend. The night air actually felt cool on my skin, but the humidity was causing me to sweat fiercely. There, I met Joann from Philadelphia. She is a freelance writer with plenty of experience writ­ing travel pieces, and of course, this was not her first gig in the region. She ended up being my travel companion for the next four days.

After a 90-minute express train ride, we were finally escorted to Bi­wako (Lake Biwa) Hotel near Otsu station. It was already past 9 o’clock, and I sleepwalked my way up to the hotel. The room was luxurious (except the tiny beds and the super hard pil­lows), but the best feature was outside. I went out to the veranda in the driz­zling rain and saw the black, vast, open space trimmed with the sparkling city lights. As the name indicates, Biwako Hotel stands right on the edge of Lake Biwa—Japan’s biggest freshwater lake covering 259 square miles—and all of its rooms have a lake view. I couldn’t wait to see the sunrise.

As I expected, I was alarm clock-free for the entire trip. I fell asleep around 1 a.m. and was up before the sun came up. Unfortunately, whether it was the wet weather or my hazy brain, I missed the sunrise. Nonethe­less, the lake view was breathtaking. Except the few pleasure boats near the shore, I saw nothing on the water. It was quiet. If it hadn’t been so cloudy, I would probably have a totally dif­ferent view, but the misty lake looked curiously mysterious. It was a nice welcome to a traveler who was about to enter the world of a 1000-year-old love romance novel.

In the morning, I had pleasure of meeting with my fellow journalists, two interpreters, and the local guides for the tour. I introduced myself in French to a French reporter, Alain, but he just looked at me with a confused look on his face. Hmm, I felt a bit discouraged. We got on the bus, and our tour officially started.

If I remember correctly, this was my first visit to Lake Biwa. The thick gray clouds indicated that it would be wet all day. If we were in Sydney, Miami or even Tokyo, I would be missing the sun, but I didn’t mind the rain at all. It seemed to add some sentimentality to the ancient city. The bus drove along the lake and made the first stop at Ishiyama Temple—where Lady Murasaki is said to have begun working on the novel, which has 54 chapters and over 1,000 pages of text in its English translation.

Ishiyama Temple (Ishiyamadera) was founded 1,250 years ago by Bishop Rohben Sojyo according to the imperial order of Emperor Shomu. Sitting on the exposed wollastonite rocks (hence the name, Ishiyama—rock mountain), it is the 13th temple of the Saigoku 33 temple pilgrimage and houses the concealed Buddha (a National Treasure), which is opened every 33 years by imperial orders, and countless other treasures from the Nara, Heian, and Kamakura periods.

We purified our hands and mouth with okiyome water and climbed up the long stairs leading to Hondoh, the main buildings. On the top of the stairs, we were welcomed by Tahoto (the Treasure Tower). This National Treasure tower was built 750 years ago by Yoritomo Minamoto during the Kamakura Period. Of all the treasure towers in Japan, it is the oldest and considered to be the most beautiful. In fact, the tower once graced the face of the 4-yen stamps.

What impressed me the most about this temple is the beauty of its sur­rounding nature. Lush views from the Hondoh—the oldest building in Shiga, are just striking. Although we missed the four-color season just by a few weeks, the green of maple and sycamore cedar trees definitely eased my eyes. The giant wollastonite rocks with the wave-like pattern add a sense of drama and sacredness to the site. Tsukimitei (moon viewing platform) was added to the temple in the 12th century as the best spot to watch the harvest moon in the region.

Some might say visiting temples in Japan is mundane, but I disagree. Historical temples are more than just religious facilities. They are impres­sive works of art that represent politics and culture from a particular period in history. And, you can really learn about the Japanese sense of nature, life and deities from them.

While we were there, the temple was hosting a special exhibit on “The Tale of Genji.” There, we had an op­portunity to check out the manuscripts and picture scrolls created hundreds of years ago based on the images from the novel. We also learned how the Japanese characters, katakana and hiragana were developed from the Chinese kanji characters, through the “Tale of Genji” manuscripts from dif­ferent centuries. Hiragana first gained its popularity among women, who were denied the access to the same levels of education as men. “The Tale of Genji” and other early novels by fe­male authors were written in hiragana extensively or exclusively.

After the lunch, we were whisked away by the bus and headed to the neighboring prefecture, Kyoto. I was heavily jet-lagged, but due to my excitement, couldn’t fall asleep. I’ve always loved Kyoto. To me, Kyoto is filled with romance and elegance, something Tokyo—its modern coun­terpart— seriously lacks. I’d been to Kyoto a few times before, but this was my first time back there as an adult, as a person who lives abroad. I was anx­ious to see how Kyoto presented itself. Joann and I kept pointing out signs, buildings and people from the bus window like a pair of school girls.

Within an hour, we found ourselves in the middle of Kyoto City. I tried to search whatever looked familiar from my previous trips from decades ago, but everything looked different. It’s not that Kyoto landscape has changed much. As a matter of fact, Kyoto is known for having one of the toughest city planning regulations in the nation. Buildings within the city limit have to be lower than 60 meters (about 200 feet) unless you get special permission. When Kyoto Hotel Okura reopened in 1994 as the city’s tallest building, there was a big stir of protest by the local monks who supported stricter height restrictions.

Our first stop in Kyoto was Nishi­jin-Ori Art Museum, Shosuikaku. The bus dropped us off at the street since the alley, on which the museum is located, was too narrow for the bus. I enjoyed this 10-minute walk in the alley, probably more than any other gorgeous gardens and temples we visited during the trip. It was one of those hundreds of ordinary commer­cial/residential areas in Kyoto where houses and stores stand side by side. The alley was barely wide enough for one car to pass through, so every time a car came, we had to line up on the sides of the street to let it go by. The architecture was nothing too special, but I was impressed by how carefully old and newer buildings blended to­gether. It was very apparent to me that Kyoto City is diligent about preserv­ing their tradition and identity as the ancient capital of Japan, while many other Japanese cities simply aspire to be “modern.” Walking among the traditional Japanese residential build­ings, I felt nostalgic. I’ve seen those wooden houses in movies, in certain parts of Tokyo, but they are definitely dying art. I felt proud as my interna­tional colleagues let out “wows” and “ohhs” of praise.

The history of Nishijin silk textiles (Nishijin-Ori) began in the 8th century in Kyoto. By the Edo Period, there were nearly 5,000 weaving factories in the Nishijin district. Today, the area remains home to one of Japan’s larg­est handmade weaving industries, and Shosuikaku designs, creates, exhibits and sells Nishijin-Ori. Elaborate lay­ered kimono defines the Heian Period culture—“The Tale of Genji” period—and Nishijin-Ori is particularly known for its quality and luxurious designs.

Even in front of those beautiful textiles, my mind somehow got dis­tracted by the traditional Japanese residence, which houses the Museum. I sniffed the grassy smell of the tatami mats and looked at the maple trees in the courtyard. Some people focus on finding artistic inspiration, such as paintings or statues when they travel, while others prefer satisfying more practical urges—shopping or dining. My priorities are architecture, nature and food. I wish I were more knowl­edgeable and interested in arts and less financially challenged to enjoy care­free shopping, but to me, architecture speaks the loudest about a country. A guide explained that Shosuikaku used to be a private resident of a wealthy family. I found the small entrance with a stone landing and risen wooden anteroom to be quite charming. This is what we call genkan, a designated, separate space to welcome guests and to take off shoes.

A lady demonstrated how to use a Jacquard loom in the factory. Jacquard looms are controlled by pasteboard cards with punched holes, each row of which corresponds to one row of the design. Multiple rows of holes are punched on each card and the many cards that compose the design of the textile are strung together in order. The machine shoots a hook from right to left guiding the warp thread so that the weft will either lie above or below it. The sequence of raised and lowered threads is what creates the pattern. The weaving method has stayed the same for centuries, except now they use computers to punch holes onto the pasteboard cards.

Nishijin-Ori patterns are detailed works of art, but again, I was mesmer­ized and distracted by the centuries-old factory building. It is a small, one-story factory, which currently houses only a few looms. The ceil­ing is lofty. The masculine and bare wooden-beams are exposed, and it re­minded me of a great Buddhist temple. I kept looking up as we observed the weaving demonstration. I envied her for being able to call this beautiful place her “office.”

Our hotel in Kyoto was much more modest than the one in Shiga. No view, no marble bathroom, no heated toilet sheet. The room was so tiny that I could barely stretch my arms, but I guess this depicts a more accurate picture of the Japanese average hotel reality.

The second day was, to me, the high­light of the tour. The morning started with the news of a typhoon not quite hitting the region, however, it was still raining. It was warm enough to walk around with a half-sleeve shirt, but the hems of my pants got soaked every time we got off the bus.

The bus first took us to the Reizei Family resi­dence. The Reizeis are a branch of the Fujiwara clan from the 11th century and served the im­perial family by preserving its lit­eracy assets and the Japanese poetic (waka) tradition. They were the only noble family left in Kyoto to take care of the imperial properties, when the capital of Japan and the Emperor moved to Tokyo in the beginning of the Meiji Era. Although it has gone through some renovations, the family house still stands on the same location right outside the Imperial Palace in Kyoto since 1606. It is the oldest noble house and was designated as an Important Cultural Prop­erty in 1982.

Oh, boy. This was heaven for an archi­tecture fan like myself. The 200-year-old house exhibits many of the elements of what Westerners would think of as a typical “Japanese” house. The wife of the current head of the family, Kimiko Reizei wel­comed us as a local TV station filmed our tour of the residence, which is only open to visitors for limited occasions.

Passing a few smaller rooms, the house opened up to a living room with tokonoma—a small raised alcove. The wife explained to us about all the exquisite artwork in the house, but my mind got drawn to the simpler things, such as the smell of tatami, sunlight coming through the fusuma paper slides, and views of the courtyard. I’ve never liked the expression, “zen” to express anything Japanese, but I have to say, it was so zen. The balance of light and dark, simplicity of the design, subtle usage of the colors, placement of the artwork, everything was the exact op­posite of “over-the-top,” which we often entertain in U.S. cities like Las Vegas. It was beautiful.

Since the Reizeis were in charge of pre­serving literacy assets and documents for the emperors, the house is equipped with two clay storehouses, which keep five Na­tional Treasures and 46 Important Cultural Properties. These storehouses are known for their durabil­ity against fire and have securely kept the waka collec­tions for centuries.

The tour con­tinued on to more rooms, kitchen and back entrance. Walking through the wooden hall­way that outlines the house, I imag­ined myself as a kimono-clad noble daughter. I thought about how the hem of my long kimono would swipe the hallway and make a light brushing sound. I looked at the bamboo leaves in the rainy court­yard and pretended I was trying to com­pose a waka poem for a recital. If I looked further, I could see the campus of Doshisha University in the back and the power lines in the air, but I squinted my eyes just enough to omit those images from my view. I thought about noble ladies from the 11th century reading “The Tale of Genji” and dreaming of someday meeting their own “Genji.” Although the existing house is just over 200 years old, the visit to the Reizei residence gave us great insight into the romance of the Heian period, prob­ably one of the most flamboyant, luxurious times in Japanese history.

After lunch, we were joined by a dozen foreign reporters from Tokyo. The bigger group headed to the corporate headquar­ters of a global company, Kyocera in Uji, southern outskirt of Kyoto City.

During the Heian Period, Uji was not only a place renowned for boating plea­sure and viewing of the beautiful autumn leaves, it was also regarded as a religious destination. The word “Uji” has long been used as a kakekotoba (pivot word) in waka poetry and can mean both the city itself and “melancholy.”

In the last 10 chapters of “The Tale of Genji,” Genji spent his retirement years in Uji. Middle-aged Genji took Sannomiya as his wife, who is the daughter of his own dying brother. However, Sannnomiya secretly bore a child with a young man named Kashiwagi, the son of Genji’s best friend. The Uji Jujo (10 Chapters of Uji) depicts Genji’s self-exile to Uji and his death and represents the development of the tale from “spring to autumn” and from “day to night.”

Located across the Uji River from the Museum is Byodo-In Temple, one of the most prominent tourism spots in the region. And this is one of the few places I visually remember from my childhood visit to Kyoto with my family. I remember my mother pointing at the head of the giant Buddha statue, peeping through a small high window of the Phoenix Hall. I thought the place looked heavenly. And, my distant memory wasn’t too farfetched. Byodo-In was originally built in 998 as Michinaga Fujiwara’s rural villa. Michinaga’s son Yorimichi changed it to a Buddhist temple in 1052 for his late father’s spirit. It was designated as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1994.

Constructed in 1053 and modeled after the Land of Happiness (Gokuraku Jyodo—Buddhism idea of the heaven), the Phoenix Hall (Hoo-do) is the only remaining origi­nal building surrounded by a scenic pond. It consists of a central hall, flanked by twin wing corridors on both sides of the central hall, and a tail corridor. The central hall houses a statue of Amida Nyorai (national treasure). The roof of the hall displays statues of the Chinese phoenix—hoo in Japanese. The garden contains the Jodo (Pure Land) elements of Suhama (sandy beach), Hirabashi (flat bridge), Soribashi (arched bridge) and Kojima (small island). The Phoenix Hall is also the home to 52 statues of Worshiping Bodhisattvas on Clouds (national treasures) and the wall/door paintings that depict Amida’s nine grades of descent. These delicately carved national treasures—the only existing group of Buddhist statues from the 11th century—ride on clouds while dancing or playing various musical instruments.

Everywhere we went, we, a group of reporters, took many, many pictures of beautiful Kyoto for work. But at Byodo-In, many of us took pictures for our own keepsake. Despite the rain and the slightly muddy ground, we stood in front of the Phoenix Hall and smiled, knowing that we were at somewhere very special.

Even though it was after the temple’s business hours, we were fortunate to have a tour of Hoshokan, a museum that exhib­its and preserves various treasures from Byodo-In, including the pair of Phoenixes, and 26 statues of Worshiping Bodhisattvas on Clouds.
Here, in the air-conditioned Hoshokan, we were prohibited from taking pictures, and oh man, I wish my words could do a justice to the beauty of those artworks. I was blown away by the replica of the Phoe­nix Hall interior. Color, color, color! Have you ever seen the “Amida Gokuraku Jodo” painting by a Tibetan Buddhist monk? It is filled with many bright colors and fine images, which leaves no white space on the paper. The Phoenix Hall interior was just like that. With bright blue, red, green and yellow as its main colors, the walls, ceiling and beams were covered with psychedelic, tattoo-like fine floral patterns. It’s breath­taking and overwhelming at the same time. The patterns in the actual Hall have faded over the centuries, but fortunately, visitors can enjoy the computer graphic images at Hoshokan.

We also saw the wooden statues of Worshiping Bodhisattvas on Clouds, which have been relocated from the Phoenix Hall for preservation reasons. I was captivated by the elegance of the statues and the delicate work put into them. Although the reporters come from different cultures, different religions, we all understood the concept of a heaven and man’s love and respect to his late father. We were awed by the extent of the Fujiwaras’ wealth and power that enabled this impressive collec­tion of artwork and architecture. It was a great way to have a glimpse of the Heian noble life and sensitivity.

The Tale of Genji tour was winding down. We left Uji with the sunset and we were told that the tour organizers arranged a welcome reception for us. “Finally,” I whispered to Joann. During the tour, we were constantly complaining about our dinner arrangements. We dreamed of the delicious Kyoto cuisine. The city is known for its culinary tradition, so we expected to be fed something amazing. We wondered which Kaiseki (a traditional multi-course dinner) restaurant we would be taken to and talked about the taste of the first Shojin (“devotion cuisine”—traditional Buddhist vegetarian cuisine) dishes we had in the past. It was almost heartbreaking that we were being fed sort of a business-hotel-cafeteria cuisine night after night. Yes, I’m probably spoiled, but to be honest, I was upset for my fellow reporter who had never been to Japan, let alone Kyoto. Throughout the trip, I wanted to be able to look at them and say, “What did I tell you? Japanese food rocks.”

So, our expectations went sky-high when we heard of the welcome reception. “It’s got to be something authentically Japanese. It just has to be,” I told Joann and we anxiously looked outside the bus trying to find out where we were head­ing. As the bus made a sharp turn onto a small alley into the neighborhood of Hi­gashiyama, my heart started dancing. My favorite temple, Kiyomizu-dera is located in the district, and the area is known for its absolute beauty.

With the romantically lit-up Yasaka Pagoda in the back, the Garden Oriental Kyoto is a local restaurant/banquet space, and it was the venue of our welcome party. The place completely exceeded our expectations in terms of the unique Japa­nese beauty—delicately calculated bal­ance between nature and simple wooden architecture. The walk through the stone gate to the banquet venue was as if taking a walk in the Japanese forest. The property was originally built as a private residence for celebrated painter, Seihou Takeuchi (1864-1942). The lanterns light the path and buildings just bright enough so that people won’t get lost or bump into each other.

The food there was a delight. Although it was not authentic Japanese, the buffet style dishes were made only with fresh, high-quality ingredients. However, what impressed me more was the banquet venue itself. Through the wooden sliding door, we entered a spacious lounge area. The décor of the place is chic, simple and luxurious, at the same time, it felt like we were invited to somebody’s house—well, very nice house. From there, we were di­vided into smaller groups and invited to go upstairs to attend a tea ceremony arranged for us. In the dim lighting, I looked outside the windows to enjoy the surreal view. No city lights, no tall buildings, only things I could see were the moon and the lights from the neighboring temples. At the ban­quet room, several local representatives, including Kimiko Reizei and government officials greeted us.

A glass of champaign was working magic in my jet-lagged body. I sat by the window and looked down. I saw the cob­ble-stoned small alleys going between the old Japanese houses, stores and inns. Joann and I decided to cut the mingling short and went outside for fresh air. We walked the same alleys we saw from the windows, and examined every building in an attempt to find out what they were. Since most of them had a wooden nameplate at the door, it wasn’t a hard task. We looked up the moon and smelled the flowers and plants. Despite our visit to all the prestigious and historic sites, I feel this was the best Kyoto I experienced during the trip. Wandering and getting lost in a lovely neighborhood. This was the ordinary Kyoto, but it was absolutely extraordinary. For that, Joann and I felt like we had a bonus.

Last day. We headed to Shimogamo Shrine (Lower Kamo, as in Kamo River) in the morning. Paired with Kamigamo (Upper Kamo) Shrine, it is among the oldest Shinto shrines in the country (established in the 6th century) and designated by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

Shimogamo Shrine is located within Tadasu no Mori—the Forest of Truth, a primeval forest that is supposed to have never been burned or chopped down. The forest has in fact suffered some damage over the centuries as Kyoto was burned during successive revolts and wars, but its growth has rebounded and is widely considered to be mainly natural, not pruned or planted by human beings. The shrine is mentioned several times in “The Tale of Genji,” and it is also said that Murasaki Shikibu and her family frequented there.

Shinto considers red as a lucky color. Shimogamo Shrine welcomes its visitors with a magnificent red Torii gate. To me, Shinto shrines are more accessible than Buddhist temples. Although that is not the definition of the religion, I’ve always felt that Shinto has a more folk-like presence in Japanese society.

A Shrine employee, Masafumi Higashira told us about the lovers’ tree on the site, which is believed to unite lovers if they haven’t met yet, and to promise everlasting love if couples are
already together.

A special treat here was the “Imperial Dance” performance by a female dancer while two women dressed her up with a traditional 12-layered kimono.

On the small stage, the woman danced slowly to the sound of a Japanese gagaku flute. First, she appeared in a basic white kimono and red bottoms, then the ladies put layers of colorful kimonos on her efficiently and almost effortlessly. In order to keep all the layers on her body, they used two strings and tied/untied them as they added each layer.

“How did she go to the bathroom?”, “How heavy is the kimono?”, “Did they wear the same kimono in the summer and winter?” The reporters were full of very practical questions. According to the guide, the layers symbolized wealth, and noble ladies wore the same style of layered kimono in the summer, but made with lighter materials. Knee-length hair and a heavy layered kimono. Practicality was definitely not the issue when it came to women’s fashion in those days.

And, it is interesting that somebody like Murasaki Shikibu—who was “too smart to be a woman,” according to her father—came around and became a best-selling author during the time when noble women were only seen as political tools by their ambitious fathers. The performance was royal and breathtaking, but I couldn’t help thinking about what it has meant to be a woman in this nation of the rising sun.

After lunch and shopping at the Kyoto Handicraft Center, we left to our final destination, Heian Shrine. The Shrine was originally built in 1895 for the 1,100th anniversary of the establishment of Heiankyo (the old name of Kyoto as the capital). It is a partial replica of the Imperial Palace from the Heian Period and dedicated to Emperor Kanmu and Emperor Komei, the former moved the capital to Heiankyo and the latter was the last before Emperor Meiji, who moved the capital to Tokyo.

Today, Heian Shrine hosts the Jidai Matsuri, one of the three most significant festivals in Kyoto. The procession of this festival begins at the old Imperial Palace and includes carrying the mikoshi (portable shrines) of Emperors Kanmu and Komei to the Shrine.

The strikingly red main building reminded me of the underwater palace from this children’s story called, “Urashima Taro.” We were invited to the Heisei Waka Performance held at this slightly dreamland-like, but nonetheless majestic site. The poetry reading is annually hosted by the Reizei Family, Sankei Shinbum, City of Kyoto and the Shrine in order to preserve the tradition of waka recital.

After a Shinto ceremony, the kimono- clad readers sat in a circle and started reciting the top nine poems that had been selected through a nationwide contest. As the “VIP” guests, we were able to enter the venue with the judges and poets and sit on the large raised stage where the performance took place. Even with the English translation cheat sheet, we, including myself, had a hard time keeping up with what was going on, let alone appreciating the poems. However, it was apparent to us that having their poems read here was an honor, we sensed a great amount of excitement and pride in the amateur poets.

Our very last activity on the itinerary was the tour of the Heian Shrine Shinen (Garden). The Shrine consists of four gardens (south, middle, west, east), which surround the main shrine buildings on the south, west, middle, and east. With a total area of approximately
39,600 square yards, these stroll-style landscape gardens are designated as a national scenic spot representing the Meiji-era (1868-1912) landscaping.

With the 600-yen admission fee ($5-6), visitors can enjoy the striking nature in any of the four seasons. Minami (South) Shinen is a Heian-style garden designed for holding Kyokusui-no-en, a garden party during which aristocrats amused themselves by composing Japanese poems. In spring, the garden is bright with the deep pink blossoms of weeping cherry trees. The cherry blossoms are followed by azaleas in early summer and by hagi
(Japanese bush clover) in autumn. The garden contains a smaller garden called Heian-no-sono, featuring plants and flowers which appear in Heian-period literary works, including “The Tale of Genji.”

Nishi (West) Shinen is known for a quiet pond named Byakko-ike. The irises around the pond bloom in the early summer lending the garden an ethereal beauty. A tea ceremony arbor called Choshin-tei is located in the cluster of trees.

Naka (Middle) Shinen contains the Soryu-ike pond which features Garyukyo, a gorgeous walkway consisting of stone pillars once served as foundation stones for the girders of Sanjo Ohashi and Gojo Ohashi, famous bridges in the center of the City of Kyoto.

Finally, in the center of the Higashi (East) Shinen, there is a pond called Seiho-ike on which courtiers are said to have gone boating in ancient times. Borrowing the Higashiyama hills as background scenery, the garden contains two elegant buildings—the Taihei-kaku and the Shobi-kan. Emperor Hirohito (1901-1989) once rested at Shobi-kan during his visit to the gardens, and we were allowed to tour inside the building.

The view of the walkway in the Naka Shinen from Shobi-kan would leave the most cynical critics of the Japanese culture speechless. Minimalist, but romantic is what Japanese have been doing the best, and the Heian Shrine Garden is certainly evidence to the century-old reputation.

As the bus took us to Kyoto Station, I devoured the sights of Kyoto as if that was my last chance to ever see the ancient capital. Although the Heian playboy, Genji failed to capture my heart (I’ve never fallen for the beautiful playboy type, anyway), the city has brought me a brand new appreciation of Japan. To me, Kyoto represents Japanese culture’s history and beauty at its best. Kyoto is the city where Japanese nationals find their roots and where foreigners yearn to go.

Many might think that Kyoto is a cliché as a travel destination. That was indeed my first impression. However, Kyoto offers so much more than one can absorb in a few visits. Its pride in its heritage and persistency for preservation have been often described by outsiders as “closed-mindness,” but it has truly succeeded in establishing a mature and modern city in Kyoto.

Joann, Sebastian from Germany and I closed our journey with a couple drinks at a small Japanese bar near the hotel. The place was not air-conditioned. It was a very humid night, the rain was still going on and off. There were a couple of uchiwa on the table, so we started fanning ourselves. The air was warm and it didn’t stop us from sweating, but we were strangely content. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I believe it was my new lover Kyoto that made us feel like three nobles enjoying each other’s company in the hot summer night.