Miyajima

You know those days that stand in your memory as points of light, that you always remember, and that you know you will always remember even while you are in the middle of them? Today was one of those days for us.

Bracing ourselves for two days in the bright lights of Tokyo, we decided to spend a day in the countryside. Miyajima, an island near Hiroshima and UNESCO heritage site, is famous for its orange Otorii shrine gate that appears to float in the ocean. It is also known for its oysters and being the place where in the 9^th Century Kobo Daishi (he of the Shikoku 88 temples where henro walk their pilgrimages) mediated for 100 days and lit a flame that has been burning for 1200 years and continues to burn to this day.

It was a perfect spring day: sunny, warm with just a hint of cool in the morning, and not too hazy. Getting to the island required a walk, a tram, a train and a ferry, a journey of about an hour. Miyajima town is tiny. You can walk end to end in 15 minutes at a dawdle. However, it is stuffed with temples, shrines, shops, cafes and wonderful sandy beaches. It's also awash with deer who wander the streets and paths hoping for a handout, and home to the world's largest rice paddle.

We made a beeline for the Otorii gate and found the tide in, which was perfect for the vision of it floating in the sea, no doubt one of the iconic visions of Japan. Japan might well call it "the number 1 vision of Japan".

Miyajima island has always been considered a very sacred place, and commoners were not allowed to set foot on the island without coming through the gate, which means they had to come through by boat (if it was high tide). The gate is the official entrance to the Itsukushima Shrine, dedicated to three deities who ensure the well-being of the imperial family and the nation, and protect seafarers, since it was established in 593, although it was rebuilt in its current form in 1168. The shrine itself is on stilts over the high tide, with raised corridors joining the various rooms and shrines, so that it appears to float on the water. 

I guess it's the B.C. girl in me, but I was aghast at the size of the wooden planks that form the flooring and could not even imagine the size of the trees that provided them. 

these are big planks...

...but these are outstanding!

While there we watched a shinto wedding party move from the main temple to the party room, the bride awash in voluminous stiff white cape from past her toes to a hood well over her head so that she could hardly move. The shrine also has a raised stage for special performances. Seeing a noh theatre in process, we took off our shoes and sat on the tatami mats with others, quite entranced by the spectacle of a chorus of young men in blue, what I suppose was an old priest in a vast green robe with a complicated straw hat or helmet, and three musicians in the middle. At one point a sedan chair arrived covered with blue silk which eventually revealed a woman in a glorious robe of painted cream top over a rust coloured skirt. All noh theatre female parts were traditionally played by men, and this very large man wore a white female mask. His dance was very slow and precise. The spectacle, the view of the ocean beyond and the audience all entranced put us in a trance as well and we watched the best part of an hour, before we realized there were so many other things to see. It was afterwards we found that was the third day of a three day festival, the Toka-sai, during which this performance is made. How lucky was that!

The street food in Miyajima was great. A steamed pork bun, yakitori (pork, beef, chicken, tongue) and deep fried oysters. We had lunch on quiet bit of ground on a tiny peninsula, in a café with a view of the Torii gate and the ocean through the trees. 

Then we headed up the mountain by cable car to visit the temples and shrines made famous by Kobo Daishi.

top of the gondola but not of the mountain!

Off the cable car we walked to the peak of Mount Mizen, and various temples scattered along the way like marbles on a hill. One of these contains Koba Daishi's flame, which incidentally was used to light the flame in Hiroshima's Peace Park. There was a large black cauldron on it with the "tea" is for lovers to drink, as this shrine is dedicated to them. Of course we entered the smoky room, moved the wooden lit of the iron kettle and spooned out hot liquid in tiny cups. It did not taste so much like tea as water that has been boiling in a large iron pot for a decade or two. Love is hell.

The long walk down the far side of the Mountain (530 metres at the peak) was long and steep, with stairs that twisted and turned in the forest. At one point the old stairs disappeared in what must have been a heck of a storm, for the sandy soil had fallen inwards and taken out half the sides of the valley, so that new retaining walls and stairs have been built very recently. It was cool in the forest and full of birdsong. Wild camellias and azaleas and rhododendrons and wisteria were blooming, but it must really be amazing in the autumn, for there were hundreds of Japanese maple trees. Occasionally we's come across some little shrine or image, or a deer dappled in the sun. We were promised monkeys, but never saw any.

At last we made it to Daisho-in Temple, located on the top of a steep side to the wild river, with only a tiny bridge to enter. It was pretty special. There is a cave with items from all of the 88 Shikoku temples, and a variety of modern art pieces dotted around the temples, which were themselves up and down staircases that matched the steepness of the valley. 

outside the cave

inside the cave

the man himself

We left just as the place was closing up, and the long, sonorous tong of its huge bronze bell followed us down the hill. We felt it was time for a little something, and late afternoon is when the Japanese traditionally have tea and cake. We saw a little sign out front an enticing garden, went in, and found ourselves alone in a tatami room overlooking a lawn (a lawn?) and quiet garden. I had matcha tea that as served with a tiny cake and jelly (made with sweet bean paste so had that texture), and Martin had ice cream served with sweet red bean paste, which was deemed surprisingly good, although I warned him that it did not give him licence to tip a tin of baked beans on ice cream and call it dessert.

In keeping with Buddha's favour, the tide was at its lowest and we were able to walk out to see the Otorii gate up close. The main posts are ancient camphor trees, with cedar braces. The cross beam is hollow and filled with stones so that it stands on its own weight. Despite being in the sea, it has never swept away or been toppled. It had been rebuilt however, eight times since the 12th century, this current one in 1875. 

Low tide brings the locals to the beach, but not to sunbathe or swim (we've never seen any beach for recreation) but to dig for tiny clams.

At last we put ourselves on the ferry and watched the vermillion gate shine in the sun just before it set behind the hills above Hiroshima. We were both quiet on the return trip, filled with the day.