Feet in the Abyss, Heart in Paradise

Back in April, when I used the power of the pass for Evil, I realized I had miscalculated: a few hours in Kyoto wasn't really enough.  As I was on my way back to Toyama, I couldn't help thinking about all the places I didn't get to revisit, all the art experiences I still hadn't tried.  So it was probably inevitable that - six months later, I'd find myself boarding a plane to Kansai airport.

Even though this is the fifth trip I've made to Kyoto in October, there are STILL things I haven't done, or seen (or eaten...because, ya know...as soon as I get back to Japan all I can think about eating is yakiniku, Coco curry, and Denny's French toast).  Not because I turn into a lazy bum on vacation (although I have been more than I'd like to admit lately), but because Kyoto just has a disproportionate number of things to do in October.  No sooner had the sun risen on my first morning back in my otaku homeland than I was out the door of my hotel to get breakfast at McDonald's down the street from my first temple of the day, Chion-Ji.

I've written about shopping Kyoto's flea markets before, so I won't waste too many words on this one.  Hyakumanben Tendukuri-Ichi is a handicraft market that takes place on the 15th of every market, and is filled with all sorts of beautiful and/or kawaii things.  In the hour and a half that I wandered the grounds I think I only spent around 1000 yen, on a pastry, plum juice, and a cute little cat clip made with kimono fabric.  Even though I tried to keep to the shadows I still managed to get a sunburn, so I guess an argument could be made that it was a waste of my time...except that it wasn't.  It's kind of hard to explain, but there's something about browsing all the various creations of my fellow artisans that feeds my soul, like smiling at them and complimenting their work can lift a layer of the cynicism I've been accumulating for a while.

Plus I'm pretty sure I can use that cat clip to hold the accupressure point in my hand the next time I get a migraine, so completely not a waste of time.

That said, it wasn't the main event of the day for me.  The last three times I found myself in Kyoto on fall break, I passed up going to a certain Buddhist procession at Sokujo-in.  It was a matter of prioritizing, and in the past, the other options were more interesting - it's hard to compete with horseback archery, namsayin'?  Also, maybe I got my fill of Buddhism that summer in Tibet, but since I'd been working my way through a webnovel about a dragon and a monk leading up to my departure, it seemed like an ideal time.

(It was not an ideal time...the dragon calls the monk a "bald donkey" throughout the story, and it's possible that my brain very disrespectfully reminded me of this during the ceremony.)

The Nijugo Bosatsu Oneri Kuyo was one of the least crowded events I'd ever been to in Japan.  I found non-reserved seating on a bench in the shade, and the Japanese man I sat next to explained that this ceremony was at least partially intended to bless the children that participated - he had two grandchildren that were involved.  Wearing elaborate costumes, the procession moved between the main hall and Jizo's hall of the temple across an elevated wooden bridge.  They crossed back and forth three times, traveling from the Pure Land and back.

Or they did eventually.  When the clouds first condensed over the temple, I was really happy, since I wouldn't have to worry about sunburn whilst getting snap happy.  My relief was short lived, though, as a few sprinkles came down, followed by more, until everyone was either under an umbrella, or huddling under one of the tents or shelters.  The costumes and masks are actual works of art which can't get wet, so the temple made an announcement that they would postpone til 1:30.  After waiting for most of an hour already, my feet weren't thrilled, but the rain lightened up, the crew covered the bridge with plastic, and at 1:30 the show went on.

First came the monks of the temple, followed by yamabushi, mountain priests.  I found myself thinking that they seemed to be wearing the clothes that tengu are often depicted wearing, and when my new friend explained that they were Shinto priests, I felt a little justified for making that connection.  I realize I've said this before, but it bears repeating that the way that Buddhism and Shinto coexist in Japan is something that I really love.

Following the monks and priests were all sorts of kawaii kodomo.*  It's a big honor for them to be in the ceremony, but also a big responsibility.  The littlest boy's hat kept sliding around on his head, and he seemed to be DONE WITH IT, in spite of his father's attempt to fix it every two steps.  On their second journey, they scattered paper petals from the bridge to the people below.  These are supposed to be lucky, and we all scrambled to catch them or pick them up off the ground.

This went on for a while.  The entire procession travels three times, and the third time there are extra people.  Temple patrons maybe...some kind of VIP.  They threw paper petals as well, so if I ever figure out what to do with them I'm going to have lots of good art material.  Finally, after what seemed like forever, a masked Jizo led out the bodhisattvas.

If you didn't formerly spend 8 days temple crawling in Tibet, you may not know what a bodhisattva is.  

Teach Us, Becky-sensei!

So basically, in Buddhism, there are people who have basically reached enlightenment, and are able to attain Nirvana.  However, they put it off in order to help others on their journey.  These are the bodhisattvas.  In the procession, there are 25 of them.  Immediately after Jizo there are two bodhisattvas that slowly dance their way along the bridge, followed by another carrying a censer (at least I think that's what it was), and then the rest carrying musical instruments (and accompanied by a parent, because those masks make it pretty hard to see, and it would put a real damper on things if they fell off the bridge).

Eventually they made it back to the main hall, and I decided that it was time for me to head back to my usual haunts.  It was a neat experience and I'm glad I went, but my feet were killing me by that point, comfy new shoes or not.  

*All children are cute, though...until you have to teach them.

OH MY BUDDHA!

As I was studying up for Chengdu, I found out that nearby was the largest stone Buddha in the world.  In a little city (by Chinese standards, anyway - 2.3 million people beats out my hometown of Kansas City by 7.5 to 1) called Leshan, two hours down the road, lies a marvel on par with the Sphinx of Giza...according to the Leshan tourism board, at any rate.  I wasn't sure if I could fit it in - I was only there for two days, after all, and the tour I'd signed up for that included both the Buddha and the pandas got cancelled because I was the only one signed up for it.  However, I talked to Domestic Goddess, who said that missing it was one of her biggest travel regrets OF ALL TIME, and after reading up a little more I decided I could be on the first bus out at 7:20, since the bus stop was so conveniently located next to my hotel, and make it there and back with some time in the afternoon to see a little more of Chengdu.

So here's the story: an 8th century monk named Daitong decided that the best way to deal with the treacherous meeting point of three rivers was to carve Buddha into the cliffside, that he would calm the river.  The Buddha actually took 90 years to carve out, and in the end, the river did become calmer, although whether it was caused by his divine influence or detritus from carving him is debatable. 

How big is the Leshan Buddha?  He is one BAMF (the "B" in this case standing for "big").  He is so freaking big that it's hard to get a photo with all of him in it.  Can you see the puny mortals standing on the cliffside behind him?  You could fit a bunch of them in his 23-foot long ear.  That's how bloody big the Leshan Buddha is.

On one side of the Buddha is a set of stairs wending their way down the cliffside.  The Chinese monks in olden times had names for this path - for example, the bird's way, because it was only fit for the birds.  It's kind of fun except for the million or so Chinese tourists pushing their way past you...that tends to be a little nerve-wracking.  Don't get me wrong, I like the Chinese (on a good day), but the idea of patiently waiting for the line to move doesn't always appeal to them, and the idea of falling down a cliff definitely doesn't appeal to me.

I couldn't understand the rush, personally.  I was snapping pictures all the way down.  One of the things I loved the most was all the niches with Buddhist sculptures carved into the side of the cliff - they were a little worn from the wind and the air pollution, but still just absolutely beautiful.  You can actually get up to the top fairly easily, even on a pair of feet that were very weary from way too much walking.  From the bottom, you have to go up a less steep, exposed path to get back to the top, which is a lot more exhausting, but it's worth it to see the Buddha along the cliffside path.  There are tourist boats that depart from the other side of the river and give you a much better view of the Buddha, but my "bus" - a 6 passenger van that was very comfortable (guess the early bird really did get the worm in this case - the bus on the way back was less comfortable) - dropped us off right outside the tourist area gate, which was kind of nice.

If you've never traveled with me, you may not realize that a 25 year-old pound purry named Peppermint shares my adventures.  She's a much lower key traveler than I am, and often prefers to stay in the hotel room than go out wandering...after all, she doesn't have my sense of direction and might not be able to find her way back if she got lost.  However, she was really excited to see the biggest stone Buddha in the world, and insisted on having her photo taken with it.  She and I were both a little offended when a tour guide asked us what we were doing.  I was taking a picture of my cat.  Duh.