Converting to Shinto

When I leave my hostel on my first morning in Kyoto, the falling snow doesn't exactly fill me with nostalgia for Minnesota, but once I get across town to the first set of temples, the pay-off is twofold: the snow, often paired with equally intermittent sunshine, only makes everything in Kyoto even more attractive, and the cold seems to keep the destinations less crowded and more peaceful. At some locations, such as the Ryozen Kannon, I have the entire site all to myself for the full 20 or so minutes I'm there. The site itself was the first of several that made a pretty big impression on me: outside were big, isolated gravestones against the mountain, and inside are drawers and drawers filled with lines of little tablets naming soldiers that died on Japanese soil--not just from Japan, but from around the world. Inscribed on the center of the memorial is "All honor to him, friend or foe, who fought and died for his country. May the tragedy of his supreme sacrifice bring to us, the living, enligthenment and inspiration, fill us with ever-mounting zeal, for the all-compelling quest for world peace and brotherhood." Moving stuff, and something that, along with the peace memorial in Hiroshima that I did not get to see, says a lot of good about the society of Japan. ___________________________________________________ The temples and shrines in Kyoto--and there are just tons of them--are of course the big draw, and some of them are amazing places. Ginkakuji, for example, is covered by a mossy garden that I probably could have stared at for hours if not for the fact that I was trying to pack a lot into two days. And Fushimi Inari, a series of tunnels and paths over ascending stairs in the mountainside--the tunnels made of literally thousands of torii--was awesome at night. The torii were lit up all the way along the paths, which led to some of the most incredible views of the city, views that stretched to the mountains on most sides and to the skyline of Osaka in the distance to the south. Again, I'm the last person there, and it was kind of spooky (okay a little bit more then "kind of" when a cat breaks my solitude at a cemetary near the top of the path and starts howling like crazy), but walking through all of those torii in the dark is for the most part an, um, religious experience. I unfortunately do miss out on a couple of must-see temples though, including Heian Jingu, where I had really hoped to retrace the steps of the legendary Scarlett Johansson. I'm not joking at all. ___________________________________________________ Kyoto also has a ton of beauty beyond the sites. The city itself--and it's easy to forget there is a big and modern city there before you visit when all of the pictures you see are of removed, ancient locations--has some great residential architecture, and one really nice curvy walkway along a stream through several northern neighborhoods. And the mountains really do come *right* up to the edge of the city--at any given intersection you will see them in three directions, with the homes creeping up their lowest parts. At one point I walk through a couple of beautiful parks--another thing Japan seems to do excellently across the board--in the western edge of the city, and when I keep walking upwards in one of them, I find myself on a path along a mountain side, with a river flowing in the valley below. About a half-mile in, the city basically disappears. ___________________________________________________ While I loved being in many locations across the city, I think my favorite site was the Sandal Wood Hostel, with its rich history of all of four months. The operators of the hostel are an insanely cool and affectionate women named Jumi (who also happens to reinforce Kyoto's reputation for gorgeous women) and a very quiet but sweet-as-can-be guy named Zin. When you come home from hours of walking around, Jumi greets you with a big hug and asks you how your day went, listening attentively while you talk about the places you liked most. You sit down in the cozy living room and Zin puts on a jazz CD, brings out a cup of tea, and sits down to talk (or maybe just to sit) until the next guest returns. Later, Jumi cooks some pasta for those present, and follows the meal with a big plate of fruit. After eating, you gather on the floor around the table on the other side of the room with a bottle of sake and plum wine, and Jumi brings out guitars and a keyboard, which in this instance leads to an absolutely top-notch Aussie/Japanese jam session (the Aussies at the hostel were for the most part really thoughtful and interesting and artistic--totally breaking down the stereotypes I had developed over the course of the last month about the general void of substance within the continent). At some point you learn that Jumi and Zin were in an alternative band together, as the bassist and guitarist, respectively. The band was called "The Niplets". Seriously. Incidentally, they also have among their wide selection of CDs "Illmatic" and "Hell on Earth", and now KRS-One's self-titled album, which I bought in Tokyo but felt compelled to leave for their collection. Anyways, back to the evening: you stay up chatting with the other guests and the hosts (when they're not doing some of the occasional hostel management), and when you finally go to bed, at some late hour, Jumi gives you another big hug goodnight, and thanks you and wishes you safe travels because you probably won't see her before you leave the next morning, because she'll probably be sleeping past noon. I consider myself aware of superficiality, maybe even overly suspicious of it, but I think there is pretty much zero at this place--Jumi told me she started it less so to be a business and more so just to get to know people from around the world, and considering I had to remind her on several occasions that I still owed her money for my last night, I don't doubt her for a nanosecond. Best hostel on Earth.