The Thirty-six Peaks of the Eastern Hills (Higashiyama), Kyoto

Kyoto is on three sides enclosed by mountains that all look quite different. Those in the west include the somewhat forbidding Arashiyama (“Mt Storm”) and are known for their bamboo forests. The northern mountains with their straight cypress trees retreat in layer upon layer to the far horizon. The eastern mountains are gentlest, more like a chain of modest hills, a green and protective barrier that embraces the city. The only exception is Mt Hiei, which rises up like a stern sentinel in the far northeastern corner.

 

[Mt Hiei and in front, Daimonjiyama]

The Eastern Hills (Higashiyama) figure in Sei Shonagon’s 10th c. Pillow Book, where the dawn moon rises over their rim, but for the rest they were surprisingly unpopular as early literature is concerned. They were the preserve of the gods and their shrines, and of the many temples that were built at their base. Literary fame had to wait until the Edo Period. Haiku poet Hattori Ransetsu (1654-1707) gave the first salvo with the following famous verse:

someone sleeping
in a futon –
the Eastern Hills 

The head of the sleeper, rolled up in the soft folds of a padded blanket, of course is Mt Hiei, the hips are Mt Daimonji and the legs stretch south to Inariyama, the hill on which the Fushimi Inari Shrine stands with its thousands of vermilion Shinto gates.

Also in the Edo Period the phrase “Thirty-six Peaks of the Eastern Hills” (Higashiyama Sanjuroppo) saw the light of day. Not that the peaks were really numbered, “thirty-six” was just used as a poetic term for “a great many”. After all, there were also 36 Poetry Immortals. And a precedent existed in China: Mt Song in Henan province, one of the Five Sacred Mountains, known for its Shaolin Monastery, was also said to possess 36 peaks.

But when you have numbers, people want to attach them to something, especially in our prosaic modern times. A local Kyoto newspaper was the first to publish a complete list of all 36 peaks, somewhere in the fifties of the last century. After that several serious tomes on this weighty subject came out in print and today posts are proliferating on the web, even giving GPS coordinates for the peaks. All authors agree that the Thirty-six Peaks range from Mt Hiei in the north to Inariyama in Fushimi in the south and a sort of consensus has emerged as to what other hills to include in between.

But these Thirty-six Peaks are a strange lot. For one, we are not talking about a geologically connected range of 36 peaks. The “Thirty-six” have been selected because they are visible from central Kyoto. So the Hira mountains north of Mt Hiei (and connected to it) are not included, neither is anything south of the Fushimi Inari Shrine. The small Yoshida hill, next to Kyoto University, is counted, although it is a separate entity lying in front of the Eastern Hills without being in any way part of it. And Mt Maruyama now is a park without a single peak, due to all too enthusiastic landscaping activities in the past.

The term “peaks” is anyway a bold overstatement, as the average height of the Eastern Hills is only 210 meters and several “peaks” are so little prominent that they are difficult to identify visually.

[Himukai Shrine]

Nevertheless, the Eastern Hills are one of the richest places in Kyoto for density of historical monuments. Every hill is at least connected with one temple or shrine, often a whole handful. Enumerating them would mean ticking off the major places to visit in Kyoto, such as the Kiyomizu Temple and the Yasaka Shrine. But there are also many unknown places, small temples hidden away from the tourist hordes. One of these is for example the tiny Himukai Daijingu Shrine on Shinmeiyama (Peak no. 19). Only a short walk from Keage Station, this is a pristine shrine built in the style of Ise, but on a much reduced scale, as a doll-house for the Sun Goddess. When for a change you would like to visit a quiet, but beautiful shrine at New Year, you can’t go wrong here.

 

[Imperial grave near Seikanji]

And a magical small temple standing just south of busy Kiyomizu is Seikanji (on Seikanjiyama, no. 30), perched on a hill above a pass, affording an excellent view of Kyoto. The temple is associated with the tragic love of the young Emperor Takakura (12th c.) for a palace lady. Forced to take religious vows by the politics of the day, the lady took up residence in this temple. And when his unrequited love brought the emperor to an untimely grave, he was fittingly laid to rest here, at the side of Seikanji.

Yes, the Eastern Hills are also a place of death. In the Heian-period, Toribeno, one of the public cemeteries of the ancient capital lay at its feet, at the level of Toribeyama (no. 28). Toribeyama now accommodates the cemetery of Nishi Honganji, one of the two New Pure Land sect head temples north of Kyoto Station. The other one, Higashi Honganji, has an equally large cemetery at Higashi Otaniyama (no. 25), just below Maruyama Park. These gigantic burial places are worth a visit, even if you are not into meditating on the transience of life: during the Buddhist Obon Festival in mid-August all graves are decorated with lanterns and that truly is a magic sight.

 

[Staircase leading to Hideyoshi's grave]

One of the most famous historical personages of Japan rests on one of the peaks of the Eastern Hills: the grave of Hideyoshi (1536-98), the Toyokuni-byo, stands on Amidagamine (no 31), at the top of an immensely long staircase. Hideyoshi had himself deified after his death so a great shrine also once stood here, but that was not to the taste of the rival Tokugawa clan who took the reins of government after him and tried hard to wipe his memory off the map. Part of that memory was restored in the Meiji Period by establishing the Toyokuni Srhine at Shomendori (next to the Kyoto National Museum) as Kyoto’s citizens still felt grateful towards Hideyoshi who was responsible for rebuilding Kyoto after the ravages of two centuries of wars.

 [Shogunzuka]

Another famous grave has no inhabitant: Shogunzuka (“The Gravemound of the Generalissimo”) sits at the top of Kachozan (no. 21), right above Chionin and Shorenin temples. Legend tells that the clay statue of a fearsome warrior was interred here, already at the time the capital was founded in 794. The statue served as a supernatural protector of the city and when there were disturbances in the human world, the mound above it would shake. It is not certain whether the truth of the legend has ever been tested by archaeological survey, but the present Shogunzuka looks suspiciously new. It stands in a nice garden with a temple hall and sporting two platforms from which you have a great view over the range of the Eastern Hills north of Kachozan and the city below.
Hiking is another activity to undertake in the Eastern Hills, as they are crisscrossed by numerous paths – so numerous that it is often difficult to find the “official” path. You can, for example, walk down to Kiyomizu Temple from Shogunzuka. Go on a weekend so that there are plenty of other hikers you can ask for directions.

[On Daimonji-yama]

The most famous climb to one of the Thirty-six Peaks is the one up Daimonjiyama (no. 11). The path starts at the back of Ginkakuji and a bit of effort brings you to the center of the “Dai,” where the huge bonfires are lighted on August 16. There is a great view over the city from here.

Another interesting route is the much longer hike up Mt Hiei, for example via the Kirarazaka path starting immediately next to the southern fence of Shugakuin. This is one of the oldest routes to the mountain, and one is reminded of the warrior monks of Enryakuji storming down the mountain with portable shrines to intimidate the court. All along the Eastern Hills, history is alive.

Himukai Daijingu (075-761-6639): 15 min from Keage Station on the Tozai subway line (walk on the left side of the road in the direction of Yamashina; go uphill when you see a torii on your left). Free. 　
Seikanji: 10 min from Kiyomizu Temple (inside Kiyomizu, proceed to Oku-no-in (Amidado); instead of going downhill as other visitors, keep walking south, past the Koyasu Pagoda, and out through the fence; follow the path until you come out of the woods and see Seikanji perched on the opposite hill). Voluntary donation. To reach Kiyomizudera, take bus 202, 206 or 207 to Kiyomizu-michi and walk 10 min uphill.
Toyokuni-byo: 10 min east from Higashiyama Nanajo bus stop, via the road between Chishakuin and Myohoin Temples. Hrs 9:00-16:30. 50 yen.
Shogunzuka: 30 min from Keage subway station over the Higashiyama Driveway; walk in the direction of Yamashina and keep left, eventually turning into a road that swings to the right into the hills, passing over the road you were first on; Shogunzuka is the first turn right after about 20 min. You arrive in a picnic area with a parking lot beyond which stands Dainichido Temple. Shogunzuka sits in the garden of this temple. Hrs. 9:00-17:00, 500 yen. (http://www.shorenin.com/english/shogunzuka/).
Mt Daimonji: Bus 5 to Ginkakuji-michi, then 10 min walk to Ginkakuji. Turn left in front of the temple, take the first right towards the hills (in front of a torii), and then the first right again into a dirt road behind Ginkakuji. From here, it is about 30-40 min to the center of the Dai where you will find a small altar dedicated to Kobo Daishi.
Mt Hiei: To reach the entrance of Kirarazaka, take bus 5 to Shugakuinrikyu-michi and walk 15 min east to Shugakuin Rikyu. Turn right at the gate and walk to the south until the fence ends. Turn left into the dirt road leading east along a small stream. This is Kirarazaka. It takes about 1.5 to 2 hours to Enryakuji Temple.

All photos by Ad Blankestijn

Senbon Street and Suzaku Avenue (Kyoto)

Suzaku Avenue was the main street of Heiankyo, the capital founded in 794 that now is Kyoto. It led from the Rashomon Gate in the south up to the palace, which was situated in the north, in the middle part of the city, with Mt Funaoka at its back. Now modern Senbon Street runs here, although with a hiatus, for part of its course is blocked by the JR tracks and Umenokoji Park. It is difficult to imagine Suzaku Avenue today: 84 meters broad, it served as a sort of firebreak between the eastern and western halves of the city, running right through the center of Heiankyo.

The name Suzaku Avenue, by the way, was taken from the Suzaku, or Crimson Bird, a sort of phoenix who protected the city from the South, where he lived in a now long-drained marsh. History also knows an Emperor called Suzaku and along Senbon Street several schools have opted for the mythical name. This idea for Suzaku was initially based on a Chinese geomantic concept that also placed a White Tiger in the west, a Blue Dragon in the east and a Black Turtle on a high mountain in the north. The mountain where that turtle lived was Mt Funaoka, sailing like the ship its name in Japanese suggests through the sea of Kyoto's houses.

[Kenkun Jinja]

Today, while another Crimson Bird soars high in the sky and hits me with its hot rays, I will travel south from Mr Funaoka, to learn more about Senbon Street and its predecessor, Suzaku-Oji.

I first approach Mt Funaoka and opt for the official way, via the sando on the east that leads to the Kenkun Shrine now sitting at its summit. Mt Funaoka or “Boat Hill” is just 112 meters high and looks like a low green wall sticking out above the houses. The Kenkun Shrine standing on top of a series of broad staircases is vintage Meiji, set up by State Shinto to honor the 16th c. military lord and national reunifier Oda Nobunaga. It is surprisingly beautiful and peaceful. Elegant good taste instead of the pomp and splendor I had feared. I linger for a while, although this is not my destination.

[This is the "nusa" of the Kenkun Shrine, a wooden wand to which shide (zig-zagging paper streamers) have been attached. The nusa is used in Shinto purification rituals. It appears in the poem by Michizane in One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each - see my translation and discussion of this poem]

Seen from the old Heian city, Mt Funaoka was situated on the north side, outside the city walls. Courtiers would come here for outings. But just a bit further north stands the Imamiya Shrine, set up to ward off epidemics. Oda Nobunaga was a sort of human epidemic, a despot who murdered all the 22,000 monks of Enryakuji on Mt Hiei. It seems fitting that his unruly spirit has been enshrined for safety on this hill. Or is that just my personal fantasy?

[...Kyoto is a steaming sea of roofs and blocks of apartments...]

I walk away from the shrine and follow a path to the hill top. The hill is deserted and hot. Hidari-Daimonji and the Funagata or Boat Shape, two of the mountains where bonfires are lighted on the night of Daimonji on August 16, are surprisingly close. The Funagata, by the way, is a different ship from the boat-shaped hill, as it symbolizes the ship that carries the souls to Buddhist paradise. Kyoto is a steaming sea of roofs and blocks of apartments. This is the position from which Emperor Kammu must have surveyed the area, before deciding to make his capital here. He probably only saw bare fields, crisscrossed by numerous streams. The emperor relied on the assistance of the Hata clan, immigrants from Korea who possessed superior technical knowledge of water control, and who had already built Koryuji Temple and the Matsuo and Fushimi Inari Shrines in the wider area. I had hoped to see Senbon Street from here, but it is hidden among the dense buildings.

[...Senbon Enma Hall, dedicated to the Judge of the Underworld, who sits with sinister mien in the dark hall...]

I descend from the west flank of Mr Funaoka and soon stand in the northern part of Senbon Street. It is a broad street busy with cars and buses. There are still some nice traditional wooden townhouses with latticed windows left. Today, the street runs all the way from Takagamine in the north to Kujo in the south (where it becomes the Toba Highway) and is 17 kilometers long – not counting the interruption by the railway park. It has in fact a strange name: Senbon means "One Thousand Hon," or stick-like objects - “hon” is a counter. There are two theories for what those long, stick-like objects can have been. In the first place they may have been "sotoba" grave-markers – from the early 12th century this road led to Rendaino, one of the largest graveyards of Kyoto. Or, more elegantly, it may also refer to cherry trees planted along the road - but of course the one does not exclude the other. Rendaino was situated to the west of Mt Funaoka and resembled Toribeno in the east. “Graveyard” is in fact a misnomer, for there were no graves. Commoners would cremate their dead in the field, or even simply leave the body out in the open. I soon pass a temple on the northwestern part of Senbon Street that also reminds me of death – the Senbon Enma Hall, dedicated to the Judge of the Underworld, who sits with sinister mien in the dark hall. The temple dates from the 11th century and must have capitalized on the fact that the bereaved passed by in droves. A bit of hellish fantasy never hurts to press the poor and ignorant into a state of fear... and therefore willingness to part with some coppers for salvation...

[...Kuginuki Jizo, the Jizo that "pulls out nails”...]

The Enma temple looks today like a parking lot, but a bit further on I find a more interesting temple, on the left side of Senbon Street: Shakuzoji or Kuginuki Jizo, the “Jizo that pulls out nails.” The name is a wordplay on “Kunuki,” or “removing pain.” According to legend, the Jizo was carved by the famous priest Kukai from a stone he brought back from his sojourn in China. In reality, of course, it must have been one of the many anonymous carved stones standing at the wayside in old Japan. The main image of the temple, an Amida Trinity from the 13th century, was likewise set up by the wayside and later incorporated into the temple. The temple must originally have grown up on the basis of the legend that the Jizo statue could bring relief from distress. It was only in the 16th century that a new and more vivid legend took over. A certain merchant had terrible pain in his hands. In a dream the stone Jizo of this temple appeared to him and removed two nails from his hands, telling him they were a punishment because in a previous life he had felt a grudge towards another person. The next day the merchant visited the temple, and saw two bloody nails on the altar – and his pain was miraculously gone. This is based on the belief that Jizo-sama can take on our pain in this world (migawari) or even burn in Hell in our place. So from then on, when people thought the Jizo helped them find relief, they would offer a set of two nails and a nail puller attached to a small wooden board to the temple as a token of gratitude. The custom still exists and many of these sets have been attached to the outside wall of the Jizo Hall – a most original decoration. The temple is always busy with supplicants.

[...they would offer a set of two nails and a nail puller attached to a small wooden board to the temple as a token of gratitude...]

After having the nail that hurts you removed at Shakuzoji, Senbon Street gradually gets more lively. I cross to the west side where most of the shops are: pleasantly old-fashioned places selling kitchen implements, carpets, geta, clothes, toys and Japanese sweets. There are also several shops selling pickles, including the famous Imatame. But because it is a Sunday, many shops are also shuttered down.

[...pleasantly old-fashioned places selling kitchen implements, carpets, geta, clothes, toys and Japanese sweets...]

In Meiji times the area of Senbon Street between roughly Imadegawa and Marutamachi developed into an amusement center, powered by patrons from the nearby weaving district of Nishijin. There were 20 cinemas, countless bars and restaurants, and a real red-light district, Gobancho, with raucous strip joints. In those days, Senbon Street in the west was comparable to Kawaramachi in the east, but after the fifties it gradually lost its luster. The red light district was closed down by the anti-prostitution law of 1956. The cinemas lost their clientele and the streetcars also disappeared, as everywhere in Kyoto. The area became a sedate, old-fashioned, down-town shopping area. Nothing wrong with that, of course – the left-overs still make it worthwhile coming here. But the transformation was not over yet. In the nineties huge flats were built. The place of cinemas was taken by supermarkets and apartment buildings. Senbon Street lost much of its attractiveness, and I am curious what the future will have in store... 

[...the only cinema in the area...]

The above-mentioned Gobancho was situated just south of Nakadachiuri Street, on the west side of Senbon. It has gone, but in the area the only cinema survives: Senbon Nikkatsu. It firmly holds on to tradition by showing triple bill porn films, of the fossilized type shown all over town thirty years ago. To the east just before the same crossing is Nishijin Kyogoku, once a bar district in a narrow alley, but now only six or seven establishments are left and the street shows big scars where buildings have just been pulled down.

I have been so occupied with the look of Senbon Street itself that I have forgotten to note I have already passed Ichijo Street. Ichijo formed the northern-most street of the Heian city, running along the wall of the palace compound. This means that the busiest part of Senbon Street lies in what are the former palace grounds. Where once elegant courtiers roamed and the romantic stories of the Genji Monogatari were acted out, a century ago townsmen amused themselves in bars and naughty theaters. And now, in our boring present, apartment buildings and supermarkets are proliferating.

[...the monument announces proudly that this was the location of the Great Hall of State in Heian times...]

Near Marutamachi street is again a small park with a monument, on the west side of the street. There are swings and a glide, but everything is dusty and bare. The monument announces proudly that this was the location of the Great Hall of State in Heian times. But the spot where it stands could not be more lacking in grandeur, making it difficult to picture palatial pomposity. The Heian Palace not only contained the living quarters for the imperial family, but also all government ministries. A combination of the present Prime Ministers Residence with Kasumigaseki, so to speak. Like Gosho, the still existing old palace in Kyoto, it was secured by a mud-wall, and also by a moat. The central southern gate was called Suzaku Gate after the avenue onto which it opened. Close to this gate stood the Daigokuden or Great Hall of State, where all sorts of official ceremonies were held. The heart of governmental Japan in the Heian-period.

The palace compound fell victim to repeated fires. After a big conflagration in 1177, the Daigokuden was not rebuilt. The compound itself was definitively abandoned in the mid-fourteenth century, when a location further east was found – the present Gosho. Another moment of glory for the area came in the late 16th century when Hideyoshi built his Jurakudai palace in this neighborhood – but that palace was so short-lived that even its exact location has never been exactly ascertained.

[...the southern part of Senbon Street does not seem very interesting...]

I suddenly realize I have not been walking on the ancient Suzaku Avenue itself yet – for that started at Nijo, at the southern edge of the palace complex, from where it was four kilometers to the Rashomon Gate. A location still a few hundred meters from where I now stand at the Senbon-Marutamachi crossing. Indeed, the palace was huge, as was Heiankyo. But the southern part of Senbon Street does not seem very interesting: there are no temples or shops anymore, but only small companies, offices and flats. And it is hot. I look at the blazing sun, the Crimson Bird in the sky, that batters me with its flames and decide it is time to beat a quiet retreat.

Bus 206 from Kyoto Station runs through Senbon Street, and passes the area described here between Senbon-Marutamachi and the bus stop for the Kenkun Jinja on Mt Funaoka.

All photos by Ad Blankestijn

Imperial Tokyo in the Meiji period

Meiji Japan (1867-1912) was the period of 'Civilization and Enlightenment,' when the shadows of feudal Edo were swept away. Under the slogan 'Rich Country and Strong Army,' Japan took its place among the nations. This was as an empire, because the Tenno, the Emperor, had also emerged from the deep chambers of his Kyoto palace and was made into a central symbol for the whole nation.

It was quite a feat to put the emperor on the map, so to speak, because ordinary people at beginning of Meiji thought at most that he was a folk religion deity (if they knew at all about his existence). But it was also a necessity: in the Tokugawa period, the Japanese were separated geographically, the country was split in hundreds of almost independent fiefs; ties were local rather than national. In Meiji, under the emperor, those same people were forged into one nation.

This was done by various means: the creation of national holidays connected with the emperor; by having state propagandists go around the country; by establishing new state ceremonials and public rituals around the emperor; and by setting up the suitable buildings for those national pageants. When the Meiji-period ended in 1912, the Japanese indeed felt they shared one history centering upon the imperial household - a far cry from the situation 45 years earlier.

Here we will travel to a few places in Tokyo (and one in Kyoto) where we can still get a whiff of "Imperial Meiji."

[Nijubashi]

Nijubashi and the Palace
15 min on foot from Tokyo St (Marunouchi side), or 10 min from Nijubashi-mae St on the Chiyoda line.

The imperial family moved its residence to Tokyo in 1868, after the Meiji Restoration; till then they had resided in Kyoto for more than 1,000 years. A new palace was built in the grounds of the former Edo castle; it was finished in 1888, only to be destroyed again in the air raids of 1945. This old palace was a series of linked pavilions and inside demonstrated a curious mix of Western and Japanese styles. Foreign dignitaries were impressed by its magnificence, such as the crimson Throne Room with brocaded walls, coffered ceiling, and golden throne under a baldachin. Here the Meiji Constitution was promulgated on February 11, 1889 (see a painting of the event in the Meiji Picture Gallery). The area in front of the former castle was cleared of all structures and named the Outer Garden (Kokyo Gaien). Its broad thoroughfares were convenient for military reviews and today they can still be used for marathons.

The Double Bridge (Nijubashi) is the symbolic entrance to the Imperial Palace. Most tourist programs in Tokyo, such as the tours offered by the Hato Bus company, start at this monument. There are two bridges here, but the name "Double Bridge" does not derive from that fact, although most people may think so now. The stone bridge in front is impressive with its heavy arches. It dates from 1887, the year the palace was built, and leads across the moat to the black, hermetically closed gate with a little white house for a guardsman sitting next to it. It is in fact the main entrance to the palace and was designed by a Japanese student of the British architect Conder. Then there is a steel bridge farther to the back that crosses another part of the moat and leads into the palace grounds proper. This steel bridge is modern and has replaced an wrought-iron original built also in 1887 by a German engineer. It was this old bridge that gave Nijubashi its name: it consisted of an upper and lower level, and these two decks or layers led to the designation Nijubashi.

[Statue of Kusunoki Masashige]

Statue of Kusunoki Masashige
(5 min walk from the Double Bridge)

The Double Bridge is popular with Japanese tour groups. On the way back to the bus, they invariably file past the bronze equestrian statue of Kusunoki Masashige. Monumental statues of this type were another novelty of Meiji Japan: until the Edo period, there had almost only been religious sculpture, mainly Buddhist, and what statues were made of private persons were a kind of memorial portraits to revere after the death of the person in question. Meiji was hit by a veritable statumania, from military heroes as Omura Masajiro (in the Yasukuni Shrine) to the famous statue of Saigo Takamori in Ueno Park. This public art had a clear message, too: Kusunoki was a paragon of loyalty to the imperial house, or at least, he was made into one in Meiji schoolbooks. He had died in 1336 when defending Emperor Go-Daigo in a power struggle with the Ashikaga shoguns, who in Meiji were depicted as "usurpers." The Kusunoki statue was sculpted by Takamura Koun. The small shop next to the statue sells copies of the statue and ashtrays and clocks with the effigy of the Double Bridge.

[Meiji Picture gallery]

Meiji Memorial Picture Gallery
From the Double Bridge and Kusunoki Statue take the Chiyoda line (from Nijubashi-mae) to Omotesando and transfer there for one station to the Ginza line for Gaienmae. Then it is 15 min on foot through the avenue lined with gingko trees.
Admission: JPY 500 (open year round).
http://www.meijijingugaien.jp/english/seitoku-gallery.html.

Seen from Aoyama-dori, over an approach lined by venerable gingko trees (the prime spot for viewing autumn colors in Tokyo), the domed Meiji Memorial Picture Gallery is an impressive presence. Inside, the atmosphere is even more venerable, not to say hallowed. In the galleries stretching away on both sides from the dome, hang huge canvasses (3 by 2.7 meter) on dark, wood-paneled walls. Forty paintings in Japanese style on the one side and forty oil paintings in Western style on the other, depict the major events of the reign of the Meiji Emperor (1852 - 1912).

The Outer Gardens of the Meiji Shrine, of which the gallery's grounds form part, now are somewhat incongruously a sports Mecca, with the Jingu Baseball Stadium, a golf driving link and a tennis club. Nearby is also the National Stadium. On Sundays, the park is full of people practicing on roller-skates and skateboards, or engaged in various ball games. It is quite a change from the brightness outside to the solemnity of Meiji inside.

The Memorial Gallery was constructed in 1926. During the lifetime of the Emperor, this had been the Aoyama Military Parade Field; in a small park on the way to the Picture Hall still stands the enoki tree where to Emperor used to take his position when viewing the troops.

The paintings in the hall (which run to a total length of 250 meters) were not finished until 1936. The Japanese style murals depict the first part of the Emperor's life, from his birth in the Kyoto Imperial Palace (the Lying-in Chamber or Gosanjo is shown, which was erected especially for this occasion) to 1878; these are the brightest and most beautiful paintings, executed in soft colors. Sometimes they may be a bit stiff, but we are dealing after all with ceremonial art. These paintings focus on the happy years of early Meiji and the well-managed switch from the old feudal system to a modern state. The next 40 paintings concern the second half of the Emperor's life and are rather somber, not only due to the oil-painting technique, but also because the Meiji period gradually darkened towards war and death.

The bright years show the Prince growing up, engaged in the Ritual of Dressing the Hair, being invested as Crown-Prince, and accessing the throne upon his father Emperor Komei's sudden death in 1867. That same year, the last shogun, Yoshinobu, proclaimed his resignation in the Nijo Castle in Kyoto. Imperial Rule was restored ('restored' is the term used, although in most of Japanese history, the emperor had been a ceremonial and religious figure rather than a ruler). To convey this message abroad, we see the new Emperor receiving foreign ambassadors in audience; in the picture he greets the Minister from the Netherlands, who has typical red-brown hair. After the shogunal forces in Yedo Castle surrender, the emperor is enthroned in a colorful ceremony. In a long procession, dressed in ancient Court Regalia, he travels from Kyoto to the new national capital of Tokyo. The next year he is back in Kyoto for his marriage to Princes Haruko, who arrives at the ceremony in a traditional cart drawn by oxen.

The following decade, the Emperor undertakes several Imperial Tours around the country in order to show the people his authority. In the Edo period, most Japanese did not know about the existence of the Emperor and it was such a well-kept secret that foreigner observers actually thought that the Shogun was the Emperor. In 1872 Japan's first railway, between Tokyo and Yokohama is opened. The Imperial carriage arrives at the new. Western-style station of Shinbashi. A beautiful painting by Domoto Insho shows the Emperor receiving a lecture from a prominent scholar at the Akasaka Palace; this was a practice that continued for many years. Except for the brief samurai rebellion in Kyushu in 1877, these years are peaceful: we see visits to industrial exhibits, a Noh play, the Empress visiting a school for girls and, finally, in a poetic painting by Kaburagi Kiyokata, composing a poem.

[The gingko avenue]

The series of oil paintings starts innocently enough with a visit by the former U.S. President, General Grant. We see the Emperor conversing with him, a box of cigars open on the table, in the Hama Detached Palace. A currency conversion system is adapted in 1881 and the draft constitution is written in 1888. In the painting we see the conference where Ito Hirobumi (one of the leading Meiji statesmen) explains the draft to the Emperor.

In the next painting the constitution is promulgated by the Emperor on February 11, 1889 in the newly constructed Imperial Palace. Nice detail: the Emperor is shown handing the constitution to the Prime Minister - in other words, the Meiji constitution was a gift from the Emperor to the Japanese people and the Emperor himself stood above and outside that constitution (thus showing that Meiji was not a constitutional monarchy in the normal sense of the word). The first session of the Imperial Diet is opened in 1890. In 1894, the Emperor and Empress celebrate their Silver Wedding, but then a decade of war starts.

In 1894-95 the Sino-Japanese War is fought, with a battle in the Yellow Sea. Japanese warships are shown attacking the Chinese fleet with a lot of fire and smoke. The Emperor stays at military headquarters in Hiroshima to personally direct the war effort, the Empress is depicted visiting wounded soldiers. A peace treaty is finally concluded in Shimonoseki, where we see the Chinese delegates still in Manchu dress conferring with their Japanese counterparts, who are in Western-style costumes.

In 1904 war with Russia follows. We see the famous scene of the Russian General Stoessel at the surrender of Port Arthur presenting his white horse to the Japanese Commander Nogi. The bitter battle of Mukden follows, then Japan finally vanquishes Russia by destroying the Russian fleet in the Battle of the Japan Sea. Southern Sakhalin is ceded to Japan and we watch how army officers place a demarcation stone at the new frontier. By the way, that stone now stands in the garden of the museum, as Sakhalin is Russian again. One of the results of the war is that Japan could annex Korea. The next painting shows Seoul's South Gate with the caption 'The Union of Korea and Japan.' In the Gallery, history is presented exactly as it was conceived by Japan in the 1930s - as if time has stuck there.

The two last paintings show the Emperor's final illness, with people praying day and night in front of the Imperial Palace, and the funeral in the Momoyama Mausoleum in Kyoto. Fourteen years afterwards the present Gallery was built on the place where the funeral carriage was put out for public viewing and from where the cortege carrying the Emperor's body left Tokyo for burial in Kyoto on September 13, 1912. Interestingly, the very spot where the carriage stood is marked by a camphor tree or kusunoki, again a pun on the name of the loyal retainer we met above.

After all those paintings, one may be thirsty. What about tea in the Meiji Kinenkan, a restaurant and wedding hall complex sitting close to the Gallery and allied with the Meiji Shrine? Disregard the important-looking guards at the entrance and proceed to the Lounge Kinkei, although refreshments do not come cheap there. Inside, the restaurant may look familiar to you: indeed, it is the very room where the deliberations on the constitution were held from picture no. 50. The room with its characteristic wall decorations has been reconstructed here after the original building was dismantled. It now serves as a nostalgic background for ladies and gentlemen sipping coffee. Isn't that real democracy?

[The Meiji Shrine]

The Meiji Shrine
(Walk past the Picture Gallery to the large road on which Shinanomachi St lies and turn left into this road. You will pass the national No Theater, and after a while, also on the left, you will come to the north entrance of the Meiji Shrine. Alternatively, return from the Picture Gallery to Gaienmae, take a train to Omotesando and from there take the Chiyoda line to Meiji Jingu-mae. This brings you to the main entrance of the shrine.)
https://www.meijijingu.or.jp/en/

That Omotesando, the avenue leading to the Meiji Shrine, holds the middle between a French boulevard and a kid's town (especially on weekends) was undoubtedly not the intention of the planners. As the large stone lanterns at the Ometesando crossing demonstrate, it was meant as a formal approach to the shrine, dedicated to the memory of the revered Meiji Emperor (r. 1868-1912) and his wife. The shrine was finished in 1920. It is set in a cool and green park, on what had been a favorite spot of the Emperor and Empress: the estate and garden originally owned by the Ii clan. They seem to have loved the garden with irises that bloom here in the pond every year in spring. The many shrubs and trees now creating a dense forest in the shrine grounds were donated and planted by people from all over Japan.

[Wedding Procession]

The Emperor and Empress are not buried here (their tombs are in Momoyama in Kyoto), but according to Shinto belief, their souls are enshrined in the temple. Original Shinto only honored extraordinary forces of nature (mountains and rocks, huge trees, waterfalls etc.), but in a mix with ancestor veneration already in early historic times clan leaders had started to pray to their ancestors in shrines as well. Indeed, also in historical times exceptional human beings were sometimes enshrined, such as Sugawara no Michizane, a 10th century courtier. State Shinto had since the Meiji-period taken up this custom by enshrining political activists whose deeds had helped bring about the Meiji restoration, so it was not such a big step towards the canonization of the Imperial couple. The Meiji period had been a time of dramatic change and the Emperor was much honored as the leader (or at least the symbol) who steered Japan through these difficult years. Still, for a Western observer it is a strange thought that modern people come to pray to a human being who only lived a century ago.

The shrine buildings are the essence of simplicity. State Shinto architecture is based on the style of the Ise Shrines, so we find here unadorned Japanese cedar wood and smooth, green copper roofs. The buildings were replaced in 1958. There are many shrine festivals, such as the New Year visit, when however the crowds are appalling. It is nicer to visit in the middle of January, when young people decked out in kimono come for the coming-of-age day, or in November when children also in kimono are brought here for Shichigosan. On Sundays, there are often weddings. The shrine's autumn festival is held from Nov. 1-3 (Nov. 3, now called Culture Day, is in fact the birthday of the Meiji Emperor, still furtively celebrated after the war in this new guise), with performances of traditional music and martial arts.

[The old Meiji Shrine Treasure House]

Meiji Jingu Museum
Admission JPY 1,000 (Cl. Thursdays)
https://www.meijijingu.or.jp/en/whattosee/museum/

The Meiji Jingu Museum consists of a modern, airy structure from 2019 (a beautiful design by popular architect Kuma Kengo) and an old ferro-concrete building of 1921 ("Treasure House"), which copies the style of the high-floored storehouses of the Shosoin in Nara. The modern, new museum features 3,200 square meter of display space spread over two floors and wood is the major design element. (The old Treasure House is now mainly closed).

Inside, various articles used by the Imperial couple during their lifetime, are on display. We see uniforms and dresses (very small in size), but the most interesting items are the portraits of the Emperor and Empress by the Italian artist Ugolini, painted after photographs. They show the Emperor as a stiff, dignified figure in European military dress. He does not look very friendly, but perhaps it was not thought becoming for an Emperor to smile. In the picture, a vase stands on a small table at his side, and in the museum that same vase now stands in front of the painting - a nice touch.

Another interesting item is the horse-drawn carriage in which the Emperor used to ride. Mention should also be made of a copy of the so-called Imperial Rescript on Education, a short moral message issued by the Emperor, which forms a good indication of Meiji-period ethics. In fact, it is a mixture of Confucianism and nationalism, culminating in phrases as "should emergency arise, offer yourselves courageously to the State; and thus guard and maintain the prosperity of Our Imperial Throne coeval with heaven and earth." Unfortunately, there were many such emergencies already in the Meiji period, and even more in early Showa times, so that millions of subjects were indeed compelled to give their lives. It is a bit discouraging that the shrine authorities apparently still think this feudal hodgepodge is fit to lead the Japanese into the 21st century, as is demonstrated by the various translations provided in the museum (you can also find the text on the shrine's website). But it does serve as a good indication of the spirit of Meiji times.

Many visitors only visit to the shrine proper and then leave again. That is a mistake: if one wants to understand the historical background of the shrine or the ideology of the Meiji period, one should also visit this museum as well as the Meiji Memorial Picture Gallery in the shrine's Outer Gardens. After getting that perspective, one can finally unwind in the beautiful Inner Gardens of the shrine.

[Iris field in Meiji Shrine Inner Garden]

Meiji Jingu Gyoen (Inner Garden)
Admission: JPY 500
https://www.meijijingu.or.jp/en/whattosee/garden/

After entering the grounds of the Meiji shrine from Omotesando, one passes under huge wooden torii gates of Taiwanese cedar wood. In a bend of the path is a small sign (easily missed) indicating the Inner Garden of the Meiji Shrine. The garden is not very large, but has a good atmosphere. It lies under huge trees. The upper part is a western style lawn, the lower part contains a pond and an iris garden.

Meiji Jingu Gyoen, or the Inner Garden, is exactly what the name says: a garden almost hidden in the innermost recesses of the woods surrounding the Meiji Shrine. It is in fact the oldest part of the shrine area, as it goes back to a garden of the residences of two daimyo families, the Kato's from Kumamoto and the Ii's from Hikone. In 1889, the place came under the control of the Imperial Household Agency and was renamed as Yoyogi Imperial Garden. Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken often used to visit here. The emperor even wrote a waka poem praising the rural atmosphere of this garden in the middle of the metropolis.

[Torii of Meiji Shrine]

The most famous part of the Inner Garden is the Iris Garden, constructed according to a design by the emperor himself on behalf of his empress. And indeed, the irises are splendid here when in full bloom. There are more than 150 varieties, collected from the best types from all over Japan, and a total of 1500 plants. The valley where the irises stand is hemmed in by dense forest and seems far removed from the mundane world. At the back of the marshy land one finds a spring from which still a stream of clear water flows. It is this natural water that also forms the large South Pond in the garden. This pond boasts water lilies which come into flower in the same period as the irises: late June to early July. They make a beautiful display. Pleasantly winding paths bring the visitor to a tea house and a fishing stand. In autumn, the red foliage of the dense trees is very impressive. The only distraction are the aggressive crows (literally thousands of them) who - lacking trees in modern Tokyo - now lord it over the garden.

[Nogi Jinja]

General Nogi Residence and Shrine
A one-minute walk from Nogizaka Station on the Tokyo Metro Chiyoda Line (exit 1)

We continue the imperial tour by returning to the theme of the Loyal Subject. The myth of Kusonoki Masashige, who gave his life for his Emperor, was reenacted by General Nogi Maresuke in September 13, 1912, when the general and his wife Shizuko followed the Meiji emperor (who had died several months before, on July 30) into the grave. At that moment, the imperial funeral cortege left the palace grounds and a gun boomed to announce this. Nogi was perhaps not a great general (as experts say), but he was very human and so seems to have spoken strongly to the Japanese. The country is still littered with monuments and shrines dedicated to him. His suicide turned him into a new myth, that could be exploited by the imperialists in the twenties and thirties. Japan had got its new Loyal Subject...

Nogi had waged both the war with China and the one with Russia. In that last war, a battle in trenches as Europe was to experience 10 years later in WW1, the loss if life was huge at 50,000 casualties; the general's two own sons died. Like in Europe, the war was waged with weapons which were modern but tactics which were ancient. You don't storm a hill fortified with machine guns by sending waves of soldiers towards it. For such a job, you need a tank, but unfortunately, tanks had not been invented yet. It may have been the dark memory of this war that inspired Nogi to his deed, rather than simple loyalty. In fact, his deed was anachronistic: samurai sometimes committed suicide when their lord and master died, but this custom was frowned upon and had died out in the early 17th c. Nogi's harakiri was contrary to his times, and that may have been why he became so famous. It also marked the end of an era, and had a profound impact on contemporary writers, such as Mori Ogai and Natsume Sōseki. For the public, Nogi became a symbol of loyalty and sacrifice.

[The Suicide Room]

The Nogi Shrine was set up in 1923 in the grounds of Nogi's former residence (and place of the seppuku); the house was also preserved. It is a frugal, two-storied wooden structure, raised on a stone basement. The stable next door (where General Nogi kept the white horse given him by the defeated Russian General Anatoly Stessel), is a more sturdy brick building. A walkway has been built around the house, so that visitors can look in through the windows, also into the tatami-floored suicide room. This is rather grisly: the positions of the general and his wife at death have been indicated by signs.

[Momoyama Goryo]

Meiji Imperial Tumulus in Fushimi Momoyama, Kyoto
There are in fact four "Momoyama stations" giving access to the Meiji tomb: Momoyama St on the JR Nara Line; Fushimi-Momoyama St on the Keihan Main Line; Momoyama Minamiguchi St on the Keihan Uji line; and Momoyama Goryumae St on the Kintetsu Kyoto line.

For our final destination we move from Tokyo to Kyoto. The imperial funeral cortege mentioned above, consisting of a cart decorated in gold leaf and lacquer, solemnly hauled by a team of oxen, made its way to nearby Tokyo Station where at midnight a special train left for Kyoto. Crowds gathered at stations along the way to bow in reverence.

The next day, the emperor was interred in the Fushimi Momoyama Tomb (Fushimi Momoyama Goryo) in the Fushimi area of southeastern Kyoto. This was in line with a thousand year old tradition that emperors had always found their last resting place in Kyoto (from the next Taisho emperor on, the imperial family's graves are in Hachioji in Tokyo, at the Musashi Imperial Graveyard). The emperor's tomb was laid out on the site where originally the Momoyama Castle of Hideyoshi had stood (some big stones that once belonged to that castle still are lying around). Close-by is also the tumulus of Kyoto's first emperor, Kammu. Emperor Meiji had been born in Kyoto in 1852, although he had ruled from the new capital of Tokyo since 1868. 

From Fushimi, a quiet avenue a kilometer long and lined with pine trees stretches to the emperor's tomb. From another direction, the south, there is also a 230 stairs high stone stairway, now popular with joggers. The domed tomb sits behind a number of torii. It all is very clean and pure. It was the first time since the late 7th c. that an emperor was buried, rather than cremated, in a "return" to pre-Buddhist rites.

It is all in good taste and today usually very quiet. That is a big difference with the decades before the war, when the Keihan, Kintetsu and JR trains brought school class after school class to pay their respects at the Meiji tomb, via stations that had been especially set up for this purpose.

By the way, at the foot of the mausoleum, like a loyal dog lying at the feet of his master, stands another Nogi Shrine, smaller than the one in Tokyo described above.

"Japanese Pilgrimage" by Oliver Statler (Best Non-Fiction)

This is where one begins. On this mountaintop, at the holiest spot of this sprawling complex of temples, in the shadow of these towering cedars, one stands before the tomb of the saint whose life and legacy inspire the pilgrimage. Here one asks his blessing, his guidance and protection, his company, on the pilgrimage to come. (Japanese Pilgrimage by Oliver Statler, describing a visit to Koyasan before embarking on the Shikoku Pilgrimage)

One of the things still squarely on my ToDo list, is the Shikoku Pilgrimage of 88 Temples. A few times, I have dipped in a toe, so to speak, by visiting No. 1, Ryozenji, in Tokushima; No. 31, Chikurinji in Kochi; No. 51, Ishiteji, in Matsuyama; and No. 84, Yashimaji near Takamatsu. But these were random visits and not part of a pilgrimage. While this big but pleasant task is still glittering in my future, I am thinking about the book that first aroused my interest in the Shikoku Pilgrimage: Japanese Pilgrimage by Oliver Statler. It was Statler's fascinating account that made me fantasize about threading in the footsteps of Kobo Daishi. In this expertly written book, the author combines a personal account of the Pilgrimage with substantial cultural information on the topic. I first read Japanese Pilgrimage in the mid-1980s and that book now is so brown and broken that I have to be careful when turning the brittle pages. I think I have read it at least three times.

[Ishiteji Temple in Dogo Spa, Matsuyama]

Oliver Statler (1915-2002) graduated from the University of Chicago and came to Japan with the American army in 1947. He was gripped by the beauty of wood block prints of which he became an internationally known expert. His interest in the Pilgrimage dated from a first visit to Shikoku, in 1961; he first performed the whole 1000-mile circular pilgrimage in 1968. From 1969-1971 he lived in Matsuyama on Shikoku in order to further study the pilgrimage, and in 1971 he made the entire pilgrimage again (with a Japanese friend - this is the biographical account we find in the book). It was a Guggenheim Fellowship which permitted him in 1973 to finally write the book, which was first published in 1983.

As Japanese Pilgrimage shows, Statler was a beautiful stylist of the English language. His account is a lyrical, impressionistic portrait of the Shikoku Pilgrimage, anecdotal and episodic and yet securely built on an underlying narrative plan. It is well-researched and highly evocative of Japanese religiosity as it functions in daily life. It also contains biographical information about the priests and pilgrims prominent in the long history of the pilgrimage, starting with Kobo Daishi (774-835), saint, miracle worker, flamboyant evangelist, scholar, poet and even (later) a deity. He struggled to find the "right way" here in the mountains of Shikoku; and he sought it in China where he inherited the mantle of a great esoteric Buddhist master. He finally reached the understanding that all human beings possess the seed of Buddha and can, with hard effort, nurture that seed and reach enlightenment during this present life.

The book is divided into three sections. In the first one ("Master"), Statler gives an outline of the historical personage of Kukai (later known honorifically as Kobo Daishi), the 8th/9th-century monk and founder of the Shingon school of Buddhism in Japan upon whom the pilgrimage is focused. In the second part ("Savior"), Statler attempts to portray how layers of legend and belief enlarged Kobo Daishi and how faith in him as a divine savior was spread among the populace by wandering, itinerant holy men (hijiri). Finally, in the third section ("Pilgrims"), the pilgrimage itself comes into sharper focus, both through discussions with current pilgrims and priests and accounts of past pilgrims such as the Kabuki actor Ichikawa Danzo VIII and haiku poet Masaoka Shiki.

And while telling these three stories Statler shares with the reader his own experiences of the thousand-mile journey, a demanding route through deep mountings and along rugged coasts, taking almost two months to walk. All three sections are full of legends, folk stories, anecdotes and miracle tales that perfectly capture the mood and feel of the pilgrimage.

Perhaps to cut back on Japanese names for those not used to the language, Statler calls the 88 temples by number ("Number One," etc.) , but at the back of the book he provides a concordance with the temple names. The author also skips back and forth (without discussing all 88 temples) and doesn't give any practical information - in other words, this is not a guidebook. It is a book about the spirit of the pilgrimage, its history and its culture. You don't even actually have to perform it to enjoy this fine account. But that is a dangerous thought for me - it could make me lazy, for the Pilgrimage is still waiting, on my very doorstep as I now live in Kobe instead of Tokyo...

Remember, the Pilgrimage is circular, and like a circle, it has neither a beginning nor an end; like the quest for Enlightenment, it is unending...

Biography at University of Hawaii website. Bibliography of books on the Shikoku Pilgrimage. For a guide in English, see A Henro Pilgrimage Guide to the Eighty-eight Temples on Shikoku, Japan, by Taisen Miyata. A scholarly account is Making Pilgrimages: Meaning and Practice in Shikoku, by Ian Reader. More scholarly articles on the Pilgrimage can be found in No 24:3-4 (Fall 1997) of The Japanese Journal of Religious Studies (available online).

Non-Fiction Index

The Best Three in Japan

Pythagoras calls three the perfect number, expressive of “beginning, middle, and end,” and he therefore makes it the symbol of the divine. The Japanese, too, are fond of this number, and the Japanese-language Wikipedia has an enormous page with lists of "the best three... (fill in what you like) in Japan," ranging from nature, architecture, religion, food, history, to life and entertainment.

Here is a selection:

[Mt Fuji - photo Ad Blankestijn]

The Three Sacred Mountains (San Reizan)

• Mt Fuji (3,776m), the perfect conical volcano at the border of Shizuoka and Yamanashi Prefectures that is the symbol of the whole country. In the course of history, there have been 18 eruptions, the last one in 1707. Since ancient times, Mt Fuji has been regarded as a sacred mountain by the Japanese. 
• Tateyama, a group of peaks in eastern Toyama Pref., with snowy ravines and beautiful alpine flora (the main peak is Mt Oyama at 2,992m) forms the NW outpost of the Northern Japanese Alps. 
• Mt Hakusan (2,702m) is a famous volcano on the border of Ishikawa and Gifu Prefectures, and like the other mountains above two, a pilgrimage center. The Shinto shrine Shirayamahime near Kaga-Ichinomiya Station stands at the foot of the mountain and affords a good view of its peak in clear weather.

[Kegon Falls - photo Ad Blankestijn]

The Three Great Sacred Waterfalls (San Dai-kotaki)

• The Nachi Falls (133m) in southern Wakayama Pref., in the Yoshino-Kumano National park - contrary to what you would expect, a thin, wispy thread of a waterfall; but very photogenic when seen with the vermilion-colored, three-story pagoda of nearby Seigantoji temple in the foreground.
• The Kegon Falls (97m) in Nikko, draining into a gorge from Lake Chuzenji, is probably Japan's most spectacular waterfall; the falls have such a sheer descent that wind and air tear the water apart into a lace-like drapery, which gives the falls a phantasmal beauty.
• The Nunobiki Falls in Kobe, only 45 meters but famous in classical poetry. The falls were a popular retreat for Kobe residents, but are now hidden behind Shinkobe Station, so that only hikers find their way here. 

[Ukimido at Lake Biwa - photo Ad Blankestijn]

The Three Largest Lakes （San Daiko)

• Lake Biwa (672 sq km; circumference: 277 km; deepest point: 104 m), taking up 1/6 of Shiga Pref. As the lake is shaped like the musical instrument named biwa, a sort of lute, it has earned its present name. There are several small islands in the lake composed of volcanic rock; the most famous is Chikubushima, dedicated to the goddess Benten and a stage on the Saihoku Kannon Pilgrimage.
• Lake Kasumigaura in Ibaraki Pref. (168 sq km; circumference: 137 km; depth: 7 m). At its SE extremity, the water flows through a canal into another lake, Kitaura, which is connected with the Tone River. On the SE shore of lake Kitaura stands the famous Kashima Shrine.
• Lake Saroma in northern Hokkaido (152 sq km; circumference: 90 km; depth: 20 m), in fact a lagoon on the coast of the Sea of Okhotsk. It abounds in salmon, trout, herring and pond smelt. Adjacent is another lagoon/lake called Notoro; the nearest town is Abashiri.

The Three Greatest Onsen (San Dai-onsen)

• Atami Onsen in Shizuoka Pref., a large resort with hundreds of springs, already popular since the 8th c. The name Atami means "hot sea," and the whole Atami area is part of an extinct volcano. 50% of the mineral content of the water is common salt, while the remainder are chlorines and sulphates. The springs are said to be helpful in the treatment of rheumatism, skin diseases and nervous ailments. 
• Shirahama Onsen in Wakayama Pref., a white beach fronted by hotels; the springs are just at the waterfront, so that bathers are splashed by the ocean waves. The alkaline waters, impregnated with chlorides, are said to be effective in the treatment of diseases of the throat, stomach and intestines, as well as rheumatism and neuralgia. 
• Beppu Onsen in Oita Pref. has 8 major hot springs called "the eight hells of Beppu." This town is so garish that it is almost fascinating. One of its onsen hotels features a giant bath complete with slides, exotic pavilion, a torii gate, and tanks with tropical fish. Everyday 100,000 kl of hot water boils up from 3,795 different openings; the waters are said to be efficacious in the treatment of a whole variety of illnesses. 

[Taiko no Yudonokan Museum, showing Hideyoshi's bath house in Arima Onsen 

- photo Ad Blankestijn]

]

The Three Oldest Onsen (San Koto)

• Arima Onsen on the N side of Mt Rokko in Hyogo Pref. was already discovered in the 7th c. There are two kinds of springs, one (kinsen), which has water colored yellow-brown from iron and salt, the other (ginsen), which is colorless and contains radium and carbonate. Arima was popular with the warlord Hideyoshi, whose bath has been excavated and now is a museum. 20th c. literary giant Tanizaki Junichiro was also a frequent visitor; he enjoyed the rustic atmosphere of the old inns. Today, the nicest place in Arima is the area around Onsenji Temple, with the Tosen Jingu Shrine, Gokurakuji Temple and Nembutsuji Temple all standing close together. 
• Shirahama Onsen (Wakayama Pref) - see above.
• Dogo Onsen in Ehime Pref., in the outskirts of Matsuyama, is already mentioned in the Manyoshu. There is a majestic public bathhouse built in 1894. Natsume Soseki used it as a location in his comic novel Botchan. Matsuyama is also known for other writers, as the poets Masaoka Shiki and Santoka. The water is alkaline, transparent, colorless and tasteless. 

[Kumamoto Castle - photo Ad Blankestijn]

The Three Famous Castles (San Meijo)

• Himeji Castle (Hyogo Pref.), located in the center of Himeji. The best castle in Japan and one of the very few still in its original state (i.e. not a modern reconstruction). Built in 1603 by Ikeda Terumasa. The five-storied keep took nine years to construct. On purpose, a system of walls creates a labyrinthine approach to the castle. With their curved and pointed gables, the turrets are very elegant. The mansion where the castle lord lived, stood at the base of the main tower.
• Kumamoto Castle (Kumamoto Pref, unfortunately heavily damaged by the 2016 earthquake). The original castle was destroyed in 1877 during the Satsuma Rebellion, and the keep was reconstructed as a museum in modern times, but the original fortifications and castle walls are still there and very impressive. The walls are remarkable for their stone-dropping vents and overhanging eaves (so that invaders could not climb over the wall). These can still be seen on eleven surviving turrets. 
• Nagoya Castle (Aichi Pref.). The original castle, built between 1609 and 1614, was one of the greatest fortresses in Japan. It was unfortunately destroyed in WWII, not only the keep, but also the daimyo's living quarters with beautiful screens. The keep has been rebuilt in concrete. Also visit the Tokugawa Art Museum elsewhere in Nagoya, which exhibits bit by bit the superb collection of the branch of the Tokugawa family that ruled from the castle. 

[Kintaikyo - photo Ad Blankestijn]

The Three Famous Bridges (San Meikyo)

• Nihonbashi (Tokyo). Nihonbashi was a major mercantile district developed by the Mitsui family, as well as a fish market. The first bridge was built in 1603 to span the Nihonbashi River. The bridge became extra famous as it was the terminus of the Tokaido, the highroad between Edo and Kyoto, from where all distances were measured.
• Kintaikyo (Iwakuni). A historical wooden arch bridge, built in 1673 without the use of nails, spanning the Nishiki River in a series of five wooden arches - an undulating span that is thought to resemble a brocade sash. The bridge is located at the foot of Mt Yokoyama, at the top of which stands Iwakuni Castle; the Nishiki River separated the quarter of the samurai from that of the commoners. The bridge could only be used by samurai, commoners had to take a small boat.
• Meganebashi (Nagasaki). The "Spectacles Bridge," a double arch which when reflected in the water, suggests a pair of spectacles. Built in 1634 by the second abbot of Kofukuji, introducing a Chinese-style stone arch into Japan. 

 [The torii of Miyajima - photo Ad Blankestijn]

The Three Views of Japan (Nihon Sankei)

• Matsushima, a group 260 small scenic islands in scenic Matsushima Bay, Miyagi Pref, near Sendai (don't miss National Treasure temple Zuiganji here). Most of the islands were formed by strata of volcanic tuff; some of them are mere pinnacles, others appear like battlements; again others have caves and tunnels hollowed out by the waves. On most of them pine trees cling to the scanty soil in all sorts of fantastic positions. 
• Amanohashidate, a 3.6 km long sandbar with interestingly gnarled pine trees in western Wakasa Bay near the Tango Peninsula, northwestern Kyoto Pref. The sandbar is connected to Monju near Amanohashidate Station via a bridge. The best view is from Kasamatsu Park on far side. Behind Kasamatsu Park stands the old Buddhist temple Nariaiji, one of the temples on the Saigoku Kannon Pilgrimage.
• Miyajima (also known as Itsukushima), a forested island in Hiroshima Bay that is home to a National Treasure shrine famous for its huge vermilion torii gate standing out in the bay. Miyajima was already in the 6th c. considered as an island sacred to the sea deities. In the past, worshipers approached the island by boat through its torii. The many deer roaming freely on the island are considered as messengers of the kami. 

The Three Major Night Views (San Dai-yakei)

• Hakodate seen from Mt Hakodate (accessible by cable car). This is also a good view by day, as the location of Hakodate, on a narrow isthmus with the sea on both sides, and Mt Hakodate at the tip, is very interesting.
• Kobe and Osaka Bay seen from the Kikuseidai park on Mt Maya (accessible by Maya Cable Car);
• Nagasaki seen from Mt Inasa (accessible by ropeway). This view is also good by day, as the whole city with the bay, as painted by Kawahara Keiga for the Dutch who had their trading post on Deshima, lies at your feet.

[Kenrokuen - photo Ad Blankestijn]

The Three Famous (Daimyo) Gardens (San Mei-en)

• Korakuen in Okayama, established in 1702 by daimyo Ikeda Tsunemasa and an example of the Kobori Enshu school of landscape gardening - the garden is adorned by tea houses, ponds, waterfalls and a noh-stage (13.3 hectares). The black castle of the Ikedas looms in the background of the garden. Patches of rices paddies and tea bushes provide a rustic touch. 
• Kenrokuen in Kanazawa, the capital of Ishikawa, laid out in 1822 by daimyo Maeda Narinaga and famous for its beauty in all seasons, plus for possessing the oldest fountain in Japan (10 hectares). No expense was spared in creating the pond, streams, and hills of this garden, or in moving the rocks and planning the gnarled pine trees. The best daimyo garden in Japan.  
• Kairakuen in Mito, the capital of Ibaraki, known for its forest of plum trees (ume) and established in 1842 by powerful daimyo Tokugawa Nariaki (7.5 hectares). There is a nice pavilion in the center of the garden.

[Gion Festival - photo Ad Blankestijn]

The Three Great Festivals (San Dai-matsuri)

• The Sanno Festival of the Hie Shrine in Tokyo, celebrated from June 10 to 16 - the deity Sanno Gongen was the guardian of Edo Castle; the festival culminates in a stately procession on the 15th, led by an ox-drawn sacred carriage and accompanied by mounted samurai. Note that the main version of this festival is only held in even numbered years, alternating with the Kanda Matsuri. 
• The Gion Festival of the Yasaka Shrine in Kyoto, famous for the parade of giant, wheeled floats on July 17, although held during the whole month of July; originated in the 9th c. when halberds where carried to a pond and dipped in as a supplication to end a plague. The famous floats first appeared in the Muromachi period (1336-1573).
• The Tenjin Festival of the Tenmangu Shrine in Osaka, held July 24 and 25 and featuring a procession of festival boats with drum beaters aboard on the River Yodo.

The Three Great Sacred Places (San Dai-reijo)

• Osorezan (Mt Terror), a mountain on the Shimokita Peninsula in Aomori Pref. considered by locals as the gathering place of souls of the dead. It is a desolate volcanic landscape sacred to blind shamans (itako); the temple here (Bodaiji, also called Entsuji) is of relative recent date (1522) and the itako cult is even more recent - an interestingly creepy place, but qua historical and cultural importance Osorezan can not stand in the shadow of the next two sacred places:
• Mt Hiei, northwest of Kyoto, with Enryakuji, the headquarters of Tendai Buddhism, founded in 788 by Saicho (Dengyo Daishi). The mountain is studded with temple halls, divided into three separate precincts. The main hall is the Konpon Chudo (Fundamental Central Hall), a national treasure dating in its present form from 1642. If you stay on the mountain (there are no temple lodgings, but there is a central "hotel" called Enryakuji Kaikan), you can early in the morning observe the Buddhist service in this hall. 
• Mt. Koya in Wakayama Pref., the headquarters of esoteric Shingon Buddhism. The complex was founded in 816 by Kukai (Kobo Daishi). Besides the head temple Kongobuji and Okunoin, the mausoleum of Kukai, there are more than fifty temples on the mountain, many of which offer lodgings. More than a million pilgrims visit Koya-san every year. Besides the central compound (garan) and the Tohokan Treasure Hall, especially the huge cemetery lying under a canopy of ancient trees, on the way to the Okuno-in, is impressive.

[Fushimi sake breweries - photo Ad Blankestijn]

Three Great Sake Producing Clusters (San Dai-shuzo)

• Nada in Hyogo Prefecture. The sake area of the Five Nada Districts stretches from Nishinomiya to Kobe (skipping Ashiya), with in all about 25 large and small breweries. Today, it is not such a beautiful area as it has been densely built up in a haphazard way with flats, outlets and warehouses, but you will forget this once you stand inside the breweries which often feature buildings in historical style. Several breweries operate brewery museums or have shops.
• Fushimi in Kyoto. Gekkeikan and other breweries operate beautiful old warehouses here and there is also a sake museum. There are 17 breweries in Fushimi. Except for the big, nationally operating Gekkeikan and Takara Shuzo, these are mostly smaller breweries that have dedicated themselves to brewing premium sake. 
• Saijo (East Hiroshima) and Takehara in Hiroshima Pref. There are 9 sake breweries in Saijo, often housed in historical buildings. In Takehara, another historical town, there are three more breweries. The National Institute of Brewing is also located in Saijo. 

Meyami Jizo, Kyoto

The small temples of Kyoto are very interesting when you happen to stumble upon them, but usually they are not places to seek out on purpose. Meyami Jizo is different - I have often visited this small temple on Shijodori in Kyoto close to Gion with family and friends. The late afternoon or early evening is good time to come by, for when the lamps inside and outside are lit the small temple develops a sort of romantic radiance which it lacks in cool daylight.

[Meyami Jizo Temple, Kyoto]

Officially, the temple is called Chugenji and there is a legend behind its founding. In 1228, the Kamo River was overflowing because of incessant heavy rains. Seta Takamine, the official charged with controlling the river, was able to prevent a larger flood thanks to a divine message from the Bodhisattva Jizo. To express his gratitude, he therefore enshrined a seated statue of Jizo here at a spot close to the river and named it Ameyami Jizo or "Rain Stopping Jizo" - that was the origin of Chugenji.

There is also a theory that the temple was called Ameyami Jizo because people used to take shelter from the rain here - the temple after all stands on the eastern bank of the Kamo River, in the past outside the city proper, and travelers may have been caught by showers in what then was open land.

Anyway, in later times, when the city had grown and it was not necessary anymore to stop the rains or take shelter in the fields, the temple managed to remain in the hearts of the people by a simple but ingenious linguistic shift. "Ameyami" became "meyami," which has nothing to do with rains anymore but everything with eye disease (me is eye en yami is illness). So our "Rain Stopping Jizo" became the "Bodhisattva Who Heals Eye Complaints," a not insignificant task in a premodern society and even of importance today. And of course it was not only a matter of linguistics, people really believed prayers addressed to the Jizo were effective in healing their eye complaints and undoubtedly many stories of miraculous recoveries were passed on from mouth to mouth.

The main hall is occupied by a large, seated Jizo statue, dating from the Muromachi period, so it is younger than the original presumably installed here by Seta Takamine. Note the bald monk's head and the staff he carries as all Jizo statues. The temple also owns a great Thousand-armed Kannon statue in a room on your right when you stand in front of the Jizo hall. Further at the back, also to the right, you will find a jolly fat Daikoku.

And closer to the entrance, on the left, I saw this lovely small Jizo...